Love Interest(94)

“Do you think you can have more than one love of your life?” I ask.

“Um.” She cocks her head at me. “That’s a stumper. We’re both twenty-five.”

I laugh and look down at my tattoo. “You’re one of mine.”

“Same, babe. What about Alex?”

I frown. “Is he a love of my life?”

Miriam nods.

I told her the truth about our breakup, and about the acquisition. Actually, I told everyone about the acquisition. Brijesh, Benny, Fari, the YouTube crew. Once the secret was out with Alex, my morals dictated it was out with everyone, and I really don’t give a fuck anymore if it gets back to Tracy and she comes after me for it. Apparently, I’m a very big risk-taker now.

“I don’t think Alex counts,” I tell Mir. “We didn’t last.”

But in my head, I picture Freddy’s bar. Drinking the Jack and Jills. The shape of Alex’s lips when he smiles, the color of his eyes in the moments before he would kiss me. The two of us bent over the chocolate cosmos, Koreatown, the Parthenon, the elevator, Eataly. All of it, some kind of epic montage that makes up the beginning stages of love-of-your-life-level happiness with a cataclysmic, unforgettable love interest.

“He counts,” Miriam says.

I sigh. “If you say so.”

“He counts.” She stretches her arms upward and stands. “You wouldn’t have asked me if you could have more than one love of your life if he didn’t.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


Alex doesn’t make an appearance on my last day of work. Benny cobbles together a goodbye gathering—he even made cupcakes with iced Union Jack decorations, which he passes out while everyone sneakily signs my going-away card—but Alex doesn’t show.

“What flavor?” I ask, sticking my pinkie into the frosting.

“Boring old vanilla,” says Benny. “I wanted to bake something more interesting, but I wasn’t sure what all your weak-ass immune system could handle besides vanilla. Never thought I’d be an anti-Darwinist, but here we are.”

I smirk. “I take it you’re happy you can start gorging on Reese’s again?”

“Honestly. I can’t get rid of you fast enough.”

Don pops a bottle of champagne. Not the sparkling grape juice we reserve for software upgrades—real champagne!

“Casey,” he says while my coworkers all hold their plastic flutes aloft in the ninety-eighth-floor break room, “I have learned so much from you. Including spreadsheet styling.” He grins, and Fari laughs. “I can’t wait to see what you achieve next.”

If all men could be more like Don, less like Robert and Dougie, I think our world would be a marginally better place.

A while later, Gus comes up to me and says, “By the way.” He’s got a number two pencil tucked behind one ear and ink on the collar of his shirt. “Alex told me about your idea. Holiday-triggered fast fashion? That was good stuff. If you have other ideas, about anything at all, don’t hesitate to email me. Seriously.” He stares at me, waiting for my affirmation. I think he’s trying to make it clear that even though he didn’t choose me for Alex’s job, it doesn’t mean he thinks I’m not valuable.

“Um.” I blink three times, thrown out of the moment as I recall that conversation on the subway with Alex last month. You’re doing it again. Acting like you’re not an inspiration for people. “Yeah, um, okay.”

“Cool,” Gus says, tossing his empty flute in the trash. “Sorry he’s not here, by the way. Think he had a family thing. His dad just got back from Australia.”

“Oh. That’s fine,” I say. But the floor slides out from under me, and I feel more unsteady than I have since I was young. My insides twist into a mangled, broken thing.

Alex knew what day I was leaving. He’s clearly made up his mind on what he wants to do.

Gus’s forehead scrunches. I can see the thought forming behind his eyes. He’s wondering why I look so upset all of a sudden. Drawing conclusions.

“You should look into featuring Revenant,” I blurt.

Gus cocks his head. “Revenant?”

“Yeah, it’s a clothing brand. The CEO is named Josephine Davis, and she’s, um, doing some pretty cool stuff with capsule wardrobes, and negative carbon footprints, and exposing greenwashing, and stuff.” My vomit-spiel ends in a wince.

“Okay,” Gus says. “Revenant? I will.”

He turns for the door, but his easy expression melts off his face at the glare Saanvi is shooting him. He shrinks under her stare. “I am going back to my desk right now to work on that thing I promised you—”

“Thursday, Gus. You promised it would be ready last Thursday.”

Gus winces and steps sideways toward the door. “To my office, right now, working on that write-up and that write-up alone. Swear!”

He scurries off. Saanvi crosses her arms, staring after him with a soft smirk on her face. “Creatives,” she says.

I shrug like, What can ya do?

Saanvi steps closer. “I got wind through Amanda, who got wind through Instagram, that you and your cohost spent the holidays together. Our account got tagged in a photo of you and Alex taking shots at some Nashville honky-tonk.”