I inhale sharply. 揑 can抰 have this conversation right now, Crew. I抦 at work! You can抰 just棓
He steps forward, faster and closer than I抦 expecting. 揑 know. But please, Scarlett. Just answer the question. I can抰？I抳e got to go meet with my dad. The lawyers. The board. And I can handle it. I will handle it.?
揙kay. What does that have to do with me??
揑抣l fight harder if I have something to fight for.?He pauses. 揙therwise, I抎 consider walking away. I抎 take Royce Raymond up on his offer, if it wasn抰 in LA.?
I tilt my head to see his face better. 揧ou told me the job was here.?
揑 lied. I wanted your honest opinion, and I knew California would tip the scales. It抯 not an option now though, obviously, with the baby.?
揟he baby,?I repeat. 揝o, what? I抦 worth fighting for until I抦 no longer a human incubator? Is that what you抮e saying??
揑桮od, no! Don抰 twist what I抦 saying. This is exactly what you did last night.?
揕ast night. Right. When you accused me of downloading company documents for the sole purpose of blabbing about them to棓
揑 didn抰 accuse you of anything!?Crew shouts. 揑 asked, Scarlett. I found out who the leak was. You know him; I don抰。 We抮e a team. I was trying to棓
揑f we抮e a team, then maybe you should have trusted me. Maybe you should have believed me!?
揥hen did I not trust you? When did I not believe you??Crew retorts.
My phone rings, shrill and loud. I hesitate, but I pick up the receiver. Only a few people have the direct number rather than going through Leah, suggesting it抯 important. 揝carlett Kensington.?
揌i, Scarlett. It抯 Jeff. I抦 looking through the proofs for the next issue, and I think that厰 I tune him out. Crew leans forward and scribbles something on a pink sticky note.
He tilts the photo of us so it抯 directly facing me, and then walks out of my office. Jeff, Haute抯 head graphic designer, keeps talking. About image placement and positioning and presets.
I pick up the note and read what he wrote. If you decide to file, just have your attorney tell mine. I抣l be working late.
My gaze ping-pongs between the photo and the closed door.
Fuck. I fucked up.
揓eff, I抦 going to have to call you back.?Without waiting for a response, I hang up and run over to the door of my office. I scan the floor, but there抯 no sign of Crew. Not in the kitchenette, not loitering by the elevators.
揕eah!?I rush over to my assistant, who抯 standing by the main conference room, talking to Andrea. 揇id you see Crew leave my office??
揢m, yeah. A few minutes ago.?
揥here did he go??
She shifts uncomfortably. 揢m, he left.?
I swear. Loudly. Then keep walking until I reach the elevators. I bang on the down button a couple of times, hoping the doors will magically open. No such luck. That leaves the stairwell. I shove through the door, glad it doesn抰 set off some alarm. Evacuating the whole building is not on today抯 to-do list.
The long descent is spent deliberating on how far I should take this chase. If he抯 not in the lobby梬hich I doubt, based on how many steps I still have to go梔o I go to Kensington Consolidated? Barge in and do exactly what I just chastised him for? He抣l be home tonight, I assume. But then I think of the wording in his note. I抣l be working late. Not I抣l be home late. Not I抣l see you later.
Was that a deliberate phrasing?
Finally, I reach the ground floor and burst through the metal door. It takes me a minute to scan the lobby. To my surprise, he抯 still here. Handing a badge back to a guard at the front desk.
And I抦 hit with a whole new dilemma: what do I say? This was the furthest thing from a thought-out plan. Before I can second-guess, he spots me. Even from here, I can see his brow furrow.
I walk over, trying to get my breathing under control.
揌ow did you get down here so fast??
揑 ran down the stairs.?Ran sounds more impressive than panting and slipping.
揧ou ran? Why the fuck would you do that? You抮e pregnant.?
I pin him with a flat stare. 揜eally? I had no idea,?I say sarcastically. 揥omen have run marathons while pregnant, Crew.?
He shakes his head. 揥ell? What are you doing down here? I thought you were so busy.?
揧ou left.?
揥hat you wanted, right??
揘o. I mean, yes, I wanted you to go. I抦 annoyed and anxious and I try to keep my personal life totally separate from work, which is basically the opposite of yelling at each other in my office. But the answer to your question卛t抯 no. I don抰 want a divorce.?I hold his gaze. 揃etter or worse, right??
Relief floods his expression, smoothing the creases in his forehead. 揜icher or poorer seems more fitting for the current situation. Stock dropped more this morning.?