Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
The door swung open, and Lucas stepped out, putting on his backpack.
I treaded lightly, keeping my hands in my pockets. “Hey.”
He lifted his chin to me. “Hey.”
It’s a start.
“You ready?”
He nodded, and we got into my car. I turned on the ignition and tried to make small talk. “You excited for your trip to Minnetonka?”
Lucas wrinkled his face like he’d smelled something sour. “Would you be?”
He had a point. “Go in the glove compartment. Take out the tan envelope. I printed you out some information on local lakes last night. There’re a few within walking distance of where you’re going that sound like they have good fishing. There’s some cash in there, too, so you can get bait and lures and stuff.”
He took the envelope and stuffed it into his backpack. “Thanks.”
We made some more small talk on the short drive to his school, but it was stilted conversation and basically consisted of me talking and him saying yeah, no, or thanks.
It could have been a lot worse, I supposed.
When we reached the front of his school, we were still a few minutes early, so I pulled to the curb and put the car in park.
“Listen, buddy…” I cleared my throat. “…about what I told you last week.”
He looked down, but didn’t make an attempt to get out of the car at least.
So I continued. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry the accident happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now. But that was never why I spent time with you.” I dragged my fingers through my hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Take some time if you need it. Be mad at me for the accident. Be mad at me for taking too long to talk to you. Hell, I’m mad at myself for everything. But I’ll be here every other week after you get back just like I’ve always been because I love you—and while I feel guilty about a lot of things, that guilt has nothing to do with the time we spend together.”
Lucas glanced over at me, and our eyes met for a brief second. Then he reached down and lifted his backpack. He opened the car door and started to climb out, but paused to grumble, “Same.”
I waited until he walked into school to pull away. I’d been dreading telling him for so many years, but we were going to get through it. It would be slow going to win back his trust, but we were going to do it together.
And it was the first time I believed maybe, just maybe, I might get through it, too.
***
Where the fuck is she?
I walked straight to Annalise’s office to tell her about Lucas, but her door was closed. Her light was off, too. I dialed her number again on my way to ask Marina if she’d heard from her today.
She hadn’t, and my call went to voicemail again.
By eleven o’clock, I was worried. It was one thing for her to blow me off, but to not show up or call the office? Something wasn’t right. I went by Jonas’s office, but he was in a meeting, so I asked his assistant to have him give me a call as soon as he got out. I must’ve hit redial fifty more times between then and when Jonas finally got out of the conference room.
He walked into my office without knocking and tossed an envelope on my desk. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He was pissed.
“What are you talking about?”
“I confided in you that the board was going to keep you here. And you just couldn’t wait to rub it in Annalise’s face, could you?”
I held up both my hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t tell Annalise anything.”
“Then what is that letter about?” His eyes pointed down to the envelope.
I opened it and read.
Dear Jonas,
Please accept this as my letter of resignation and two weeks’ notice that I will be leaving the position of Creative Director for Foster, Burnett and Wren. While I have enjoyed my time working for you and appreciate the opportunity you afforded me, I have decided to remain in the San Francisco area and pursue other opportunities.
Thank you.
Annalise O’Neil
I held the paper out to him. “What the hell is this?”
“Seems to me like a resignation.”
“When did she give this to you? Why would she resign?”
Jonas put his hands on his hips. “I assume she resigned because she wants to remain in the San Francisco area—like she wrote in her letter. But no one except the two of us knew she was the one who’d be relocated. She had to have found out that information somehow.”
“Well, it wasn’t from me. She gave this to you this morning?”
“I found it in her drawer when I went in to look for the files I needed to cover the meeting she didn’t show up for today.”