Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club 5)

When the meeting was over, I packed up my things as quickly as possible. It’d be poor professionalism to flip Kyle the bird, so I’d need to make a run for the elevator bank before that happened. The risk grew greater every second I remained in his presence.

“Ruby.” The irritatingly sexy voice caused me to hesitate. “Do you have a minute?”

I shook my head and jammed my tablet into my bag. No, I didn’t have a minute. He’d had five long years to talk to me; my phone number hadn’t changed. I was done giving him my time. I slung my briefcase strap over my shoulder as I stood. C’mon, Henry. Move your ass! My middle finger itched to raise up and announce how I thought Kyle was number one—a number one asshole.

His voice was surprisingly forceful. “Ruby, a word.”

“Yeah? How about fuck you.” It burst out from me and detonated in the room, blanketing us in horrifying silence right after the Crawfords joint gasp.

“Well,” Kyle said, grimacing, “that was actually two words.”

I expected him to volley a barb at me or turn to Henry and demand I apologize, but he said nothing. As I hurried toward the door, I had the fleeting thought Kyle might chase after me, but I cursed myself for being stupid. He wasn’t any good at goodbyes. He’d made it oh-so-clear how silence was his favorite way to go.

“Jesus Christ, Ruby,” Henry groaned as soon as the elevator doors shut, sealing me in with him and Tariq. I sank down into my shame faster than the elevator car could carry us to the ground level. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t prepared to see him. My temper got the better of me, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

It was quiet for a moment, and I watched the numbers change as we descended. The elevator car was stifling.

“What’d he do to you?” Tariq asked quietly.

Was he being polite, or genuinely curious? I was so scattered, I felt compelled to answer, only . . . How did I do that?

“We were together for almost a year, and then he . . . vanished.” It was a massive oversimplification, but it would do. I’d been in love with Kyle, and although he was never able to say the words back to me, I’d believed he loved me, too. Boy, was I naïve.

He was a year older than I was and about to start his final year of law school when I’d bumped into him at Randhurst University’s bookstore. We’d both reached for the same textbook, and the moment was still so vivid. I still remembered how excited I’d been when he struck up a conversation. How thrilled I’d been when he asked for my phone number. Well, he’d more or less demanded it, but I didn’t need much persuasion. He was smart, and funny, and holy fuck, gorgeous.

Our relationship had been wild and amazing. We clicked on every level, or so I thought. Conversation, politics, and the two of us in the bedroom? Oh yes, we definitely were in sync there.

When his job offer from the firm in New York came in, it thrust us into a strange territory. I couldn’t leave law school with only one year left and follow him, and more importantly, he hadn’t asked me to. We danced around talking about it for a month as his graduation loomed.

Neither of us were interested in doing the long distance thing. I firmly believed long distance relationships only worked out if they started off with distance from the get-go. There was no way we’d survive an eight-hundred-mile wedge being driven between us. I loved Chicago, and Kyle had made it clear he wanted to get the fuck out as soon as he had his diploma.

Planning to say goodbye to him the day after his graduation had torn my heart into two. How was I going to kiss him, watch him climb into his car loaded up with everything he owned, and leave me? What if I broke down and asked him to stay? Could I survive him saying no?

It never got that far.

The sadness at the memory was instantly replaced with fiery rage. Fuck him for making me think about that horrible afternoon. He hadn’t answered my repeated knocking on his apartment door, and the curtainless window showed the place was vacant. The guy across the hall said Kyle had finished moving out and left a while ago.

My heart shredded further when I’d called his cellphone and it’d gone straight to voicemail. I sat on his doorstop and cried my stupid eyes out until there was nothing left but anger. Some at myself for being a fool, loving an asshole, and getting played, but most of it was aimed at him.

What a fucking coward.

I could breathe again when the elevator stopped and let us out. Henry dismissed me with a glare, wordlessly telling me I was on my own for getting back to the office.

It was sleeting outside and my feet froze in my heels instantly, so every step across the slick pavement was extra treacherous. It was close to lunch, and I didn’t have any appointments today. My pathetic frozen dinner in the freezer at work could wait. I’d treat myself to dessert first.

Despite my attempts not to think about Kyle, I somehow typed his name into the browser on my phone while I waited in line to drown my sorrows at Mac Bakery. Why wasn’t I more interested in the macaron flavors they were offering? Instead of looking at the hand lettered chalkboard menu, I peered at the tiny screen of my iPhone, demanding it tell me what he’d been up to since he’d fled Chicago.

Since he’d pulverized my heart and left me a bawling mess on his doorstep.

Google didn’t have answers. There were a few mentions of him regarding casework, starting last year, for his parents’ firm. What had happened to bring him back to the city, and gotten him to work for his parents? He’d acted like he’d work anywhere but with them.

“What can I get for you?” The woman behind the counter stared at me expectantly.

There were rows of perfectly formed French macarons stacked behind the glass. Each flavor sounded divine. Peanut butter. Chocolate mint. Birthday cake. It went on, and on, and I wanted them all in my mouth. How the fuck was I supposed to decide?

I got a box of six, swearing to myself I wouldn’t eat more than two before returning to the office. While I waited for them to be packaged, I glanced once more at my phone.