“Call me Graham,” he said, shocking me so much that I nearly fell out of my chair. He didn’t seem to notice. “And I understand drama. Maybe you’ve heard the rumors. I found out that I have a four-year-old daughter I didn’t know about. Soraya tried to break it off with me. Whatever you have to say, nothing will surprise me, believe me.”
I sniffled. This was crazy, but I needed someone to talk to, and for some reason Mr. Morgan—Graham—was offering. So I started talking.
I told him about prom night. I told him about meeting Holden again and forgiving him, and how I felt about him. I told him about the trip to see my parents. I even told him about Caleb and the watch that Holden wouldn’t let me give back. Then I told him about Helen and the photo on her desktop.
He listened, his fingers still steepled, his handsome and intense gaze fixed on me as I talked. He didn’t interrupt or scoff. He grunted a little when I told him about the photo, but that was all.
When I was finished, there was a minute of quiet. I twisted his nice, expensive handkerchief in my fingers. “Well?” I finally said.
His brows drew together and he didn’t say anything.
“Mr. Morgan—Graham—”
“You’re fucking terrified,” he said.
I froze.
“That’s what this is,” he continued. He gestured at me, at the wreck I was. “This breakdown. This complete freak-out over the photograph. The fact that you didn’t even want to admit you were dating him. You didn’t want to call him your boyfriend. Your problem isn’t this Holden guy or anything he’s done. Your problem is fear.”
I gaped at him. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve felt it. That fear when you’re falling for someone, when you know that they could hurt you if they chose to. Hell, even if they’re careless for one minute, say one wrong word, they can hurt you. I felt that every minute I spent with Soraya at first. And do you know why?” He lowered his hands and leaned forward, toward me. “You feel fear because the entire experience is completely fucking terrifying, that’s why.”
He was right. I could feel it now, the fear crawling up my spine. I wanted to pretend I’d never met Holden again, that I’d never fallen for him. I wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened, and I wanted to do that instead of facing the reality: that I was in deep, that I was in love with him, and that I had to talk to him.
It was all too scary. Because what if I talked to him and he said he really was dating Helen? Because he didn’t love me back?
“What do I do?” I asked Graham.
He leaned an elbow on his desk. His cell phone was buzzing, but he was definitely ignoring it. He looked like he was even enjoying this a little. “You need to hear this guy out,” he said. “He doesn’t seem like an asshole. That picture could be anything. It doesn’t mean he’s fucking her.” I winced at that, but again he didn’t seem to notice. “If you just disappear on him without warning, you aren’t fixing anything. You aren’t making it better for yourself. You’re just making it worse. But talking to him isn’t the first thing you need to do.”
“Then what?” I asked. “Drink wine? Watch The Office reruns?”
“Maybe.” I got the feeling Graham had never watched The Office in his life. “You have to do whatever it takes to face your fear. That’s the first thing you have to do. If you don’t do that, you can’t do the rest of it.”
I stared at him. He was right.
Holden was Holden. He’d either cheated on me, or he hadn’t; there was nothing I could do to change that. There was nothing I could do to change him. The only person I could change was myself.
I wanted Holden. I wanted us. But there couldn’t be an us if I flew off the handle all the time, if I was still afraid not just because of what had happened all those years ago, but because of the rejections I’d had all my life.
The fear wasn’t coming from Holden. It was coming from me.
“Graham,” I said.
“Yes?”
“I’m giving my two weeks’ notice.” When his eyebrows rose, I said, “I quit.”
“I see,” he said.
“I can’t work here,” I said. “I mean, you have a really great company. But I can’t work here. I can’t work for Helen anymore. I’m sure she’s great at her job, or something, but I can’t. And I can’t order office supplies for the rest of my life. I can’t do it for one more day, actually. So I’ve changed my mind, and I’m not giving my two weeks’ notice. I’m quitting right now.”
Graham leaned back and steepled his fingers again. “Go on.”
His expression was blank, unreadable. He was one of the richest, most successful—and best-looking—men in New York. I should have been terrified right now. The Mina from a month ago definitely would have been terrified. But I wasn’t. I just felt light-headed, like I could float away.
“I love Holden,” I said. “I want to make it work. And if I can, then I will. But you’re right. I need to make changes first, and I’m starting with my job, right now.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
He was quiet, still watching me with his terrifying gaze.
“Say something,” I said.
So he said, “That was ballsy. I knew there was a reason Soraya liked you.”
My jaw dropped. “She talked to you about me?”
“She talks to me about everything, so yes. She said you’d rather be in theater. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing ordering my office supplies. So I accept your resignation, and I’m giving you six weeks’ pay to go do something with your life. Now get out of my office.”
I was speechless. “Graham…”
“If you tell anyone, I will say you’re lying. Now, like I said, get out. I have work to do.”
I stood up and walked to the door. At the last minute I turned back. “Graham?”
He had already moved on to something else. He looked up from the piece of paper in front of him. “What?”
“You really aren’t going to ask my name, are you?”
Graham shook his head. “You have a lot to learn, Mina Maple. Now get the hell out of here.”
I walked back to my desk and gathered my things. As I walked down the hall for the last time, Helen came out of her cubicle behind me. “Hey,” she said. “Where are you going? We have work to do.”
I paused. There were so many things I could say—petty things. Mean things, maybe. Part of me wanted to get in a parting shot that was witty, devastating, and Hollywood-worthy. It was tempting.
But I should probably be thanking her. Without that devastating picture on her desktop, combined with her endless ability to annoy me, I wouldn’t have quit Morgan Financial. Without my burning, silly hatred for Helen, I would probably have worked there until I was sixty.
So instead of being nasty, I shrugged and said, “I’m sorry, I quit. Have a nice life,” and walked out.
On the busy street outside, I paused to text Holden, who I knew was on shift right now. Helen is my boss, I wrote. She has a photo of the two of you together on her desktop. She told me you’re dating her. I’m not sure what the truth is, and right now I don’t want to know.