Book 4 - Page 95 (1/2)

I wanted her to blame me, to rail. I wanted her to tell me all the ways in which I’d disappointed her. Her silence was terrifying because it was so unlike her. I would rather have a million angry words than a single moment of her reserve.

Her opinion and esteem were already fundamental for me, even after only a month. The simple truth was that I’d never felt both so known with her, and so wandering even a day without. She was unlike anyone.

But eventually, under the weight of her continued silence, I let her go, begging her to call me when she felt ready.

Two more days pa.s.sed without word from her, and I was unable to get out of the house, craved nothing to eat, and imagined nothing could be better than sleeping for hours on end. I knew I was facing the type of blood-draining sadness I’d previously—or, rather, blissfully ignorantly—only imagined could be avoided by stoicism itself.

Ruby was the only woman I would ever want, and the prospect of having her in my life for only these past four weeks was so depressing it turned something sour inside me.

The first weekend after I took a hammer to her trust and forced Ruby to silently end our relations.h.i.+p, I managed to make it to the office to gather some reports and designs. I wanted to at least present a semblance of getting work done at home. I was long unshaven, wearing the same worn jeans and T-s.h.i.+rt I’d had on for the previous thirty-six hours, and I’m not sure I’d even looked at myself in the mirror before leaving the flat.

It was still dark out, so early in the morning that the streets were wonderfully still, providing a sort of external calm I was desperate to steal and pull inside me. Cars remained parked at the curb; shops wouldn’t open for hours yet. The lobby of the building was silent as a vault.

I pulled my keys from my pocket outside the gla.s.s doors, curiously peering in at the single light turned on inside the firm.

It was in the far right corner. Near Ruby’s old office.

I found my hand moving forward and the door opened under my robotic push. In the back corner, I could make out the sounds of papers being tapped into order on a surface, of picture frames being set down. Of books being dropped into a box.

“h.e.l.lo?” I called out, rounding the corner and freezing as I caught sight of her inside the interns’ office, hand suspended in midair as she met my gaze.

She’d had the same idea: come in early on a weekend, avoid everyone. But instead of picking up work to numbly sort through in the privacy of a living room, Ruby was packing up her desk.

My stomach crawled up into my chest, clogging my windpipe with emotion.

“Ruby? You’re here.”

She closed her eyes, and turned back to her packing. “I’m almost done.”