Page 59 of Words We Didn't Say

Zach

Paperless office, my arse.

The leather chair groaned when I leant back to survey the damage.

My desk was ground zero. The in-tray in the corner was a long-lost memory, buried under the piled ruins of contracts and client files long ago. My electronic filing system was worse. My inbox was nothing but red flags, and Sue had plastered so many yellow sticky note reminders around my monitors they resembled a kindergartener’s craft project of a rather gloomy sun.

How had I ever seen this mess as a badge of success? It used to be proof I had value and was worthwhile, but these days…

Thesedays…

Everywhere I looked was justmore work.

Frustrated, I torpedoed my pen into a lopsided mountain of papers, an avalanche of white spilling over the desk. I couldn’t concentrate. My mind twisted in a loop.

Eden… Eden… Eden.

How could I focus on soulless concrete buildings when the delicate whirl of her perfume had faded from my bathroom? There were never leftover crumbs to wipe up anymore, and nights were sleepless, never-ending, hopelessly wishing the shadows on the ceiling would blot out the nightmare I’d invented. I tortured myself for hours imagining Eden pinned under the rugby player, moaning her encouragement in his ear, urging him to “Come…Pleasecome…”

I tossed my glasses on the desk and pressed my palms into overtired eyes.

Personal lives stay personal.

I needed to shake this…didn’t I? My career, twelve years of my life, teetered on the brink of collapse, and Eden was with the rugby player. Sam. The internet gossip said they were ‘dating.’ Nothing punched me in the gut quite like seeing the woman I loved smiling for the cameras while hanging off the arm of another man. But when I peered closely at the photos of her, Iknewthat smile. Polished. Perfected. Fake. NotmyEden.

She hadn’t blocked me again after El Diablo Cantina. Sometimes, she’d even responded to my goodnight messages or the silly meme I’d flicked her during the day. My chances of winning her back were still in the toilet, but she hadn’t flushed me totally out of the picture. A one percent chance wasstilla chance. And I wouldn’t waste it.

But things needed to change.

Now.

I pushed back the chair and yanked my briefcase out from under the desk. I’d already made a decision that morning. When I’d rolled out of bed, I’d chosen to take the wooden frames off thenightstand, and now, I swept aside a pile of contracts to put the photos on my desk instead.

The first was of my parents, smiling back at me, all loved up on their fortieth wedding anniversary. I let my eyes linger longer on the second photo of Eden and me at her birthday party. My lungs filled up with sunshine. I breathed a little easier with reminders of why I came to work every morning.

My shoulders squared. I picked up my pen. I got back to work.

“Knock, knock!”

Sue didn’t wait for me to answer before heading into my office. A pile of folders crashed onto the desk. A wrapped sandwich dropped unceremoniously on top, but she used more care to plop the coffee in front of me. Was it lunchtime already? Time had a habit of slipping away once I got busy.

“I’ll start printing off those letters as soon as I’m back from Pilates—” Sue froze. “Are you deliberately trying to piss off Chris?” She jerked a nod at the frames on my desk.

I downplayed it with a quick wave of my hand. “It’s just a couple of photos.”

Sue snorted. “Tell that to Riley Rodriguez.”

“Who?”

“Exactly.”Squinting, she bent over to peer at the photo. “Is she the little lady who chargrilled your roses?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.”

“She looks…familiar.” Sue’s grey brows pinched together. “Wait, wait,wait.”She snatched the frame and studied the birthday scene. “Your Eden isEdenPhillips?”

“Yeah.” I sounded love drunk, and I didn’t even care.

“Huh. I thought she was dating Sam Simmons.”

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