Chapter 219
TESSA
It’s another bad day and it’s only 9 AM.
—
―
again so now I’m
The office coffee machine decided to die on me stomping down the block in heels I already regret, searching for caffeine before I commit a workplace homicide. There’s nothing noble about survival; it’s just espresso with extra shots and maybe a croissant I’ll tell myself I deserve.
Of course, the café closest to the office has a line that wraps around like half of New York also woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I join it anyway, muttering curses under my breath and trying not to look like the unhinged intern who can’t function without her fix.
When I finally shuffle to the counter, the barista flashes me a smile far too chipper for someone surrounded by this much suffering. “What can I get started for you?”
“Large latte. Three shots. Make it life–or–death urgent,” I deadpan.
“Rough morning?” he asks, fingers flying over the register.
“Understatement of the century,” I reply, and he laughs like I’m joking.
I’m not.
–
By the time my drink is in hand, my phone buzzes — a text from Aaron. Just two words: You alive?
I stare at it, half–annoyed, half–warmed. He never texts first. He barely texts at all. But the fact he’s doing it now makes me want to smile into
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my cup like an idiot. Instead, I type back: Barely. I’ll only know for sure after my coffee.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear. Finally: Want me to pick you up after work?
I almost baptize my blouse in boiling latte.
What was I saying about a bad morning? Scratch that. Between the perfectly foamed coffee in my hand and Aaron of all people offering plans, my day has swerved into miracle territory. No overtime, no endless emails — just an actual evening to look forward to.
Grinning into my cup, I type back: Depends on what we’re doing.
His reply comes faster this time: Kenzie’s got a ballet recital. After we show up, we can grab dinner.
I can’t help it – I smile. And?
Aaron doesn’t miss a beat: And anything you want.
Well. I’ve never been one to say no to a good time. Once we confirm the details, I’m practically floating on air, gliding back into the office like caffeine and affection are interchangeable drugs.
And then I see him. That face I swore I’d never have to deal with again. My stomach drops, my bubble bursts, and just like that, the universe snatches back my good day.
I let out a long sigh. What are the odds?
Lyle is leaning against the reception desk like he owns the place, charm cranked up to eleven, making the new intern laugh. His suit is too polished for nine in the morning, and I know better than to be fooled – he’s always been the kind of man who presses his shirts three
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times before leaving the house but can’t keep a single promise ironed
flat.
I think about turning right back around and walking out the door. Fake a fire drill. Pretend I forgot my laptop. But the intern’s eyes flick to me, and then so does his, and just like that, I’m caught.
“Tessa,” he says, as if my name tastes expensive on his tongue.
I straighten, tug my blazer closed like armor, remind myself Aaron’s text is still glowing in my pocket – proof the universe hasn’t totally turned against me.
1
“Lyle.” My tone is flat enough to skate on.
The faint bruise on his cheek catches the morning light, still blooming purple from Aaron’s fist. It’s petty, but the sight warms me better than the latte in my hand.
He shakes his head slowly, guilt carved into his expression. “I know I‘ m not your favorite person right now-”
“Really? What gave it away?”
His mouth twists. “And it’s deserved. I don’t know why I acted the way I did.” He exhales hard, running a hand through his hair like it might shake sense into him. “I’m so sorry, Tess. Did I—” his eyes dip to my arm, his face faltering. “Did I hurt you?”
I take another sip, unhurried, letting the silence bite before I answer. “You left a bruise. What else were you expecting when you grabbed me that hard?”
His lips flatten. “You won’t even spare my feelings a little?”
I arch a brow. “Why would I?”
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Nothing. Just the printer buzzing behind us, the faint hum of traffic outside. He swallows, his shoulders caving like he’s already halfway defeated. “You’re right. I don’t deserve it. But I need you to know I’m really, really sorry. ”
“Noted.” I step to move past him, but his fingers close around the sleeve of my jacket. My arm–the one he bruised–apparently uncharted territory now. “Did you want anything else?”
His look is almost bashful, which only makes my skin crawl. “Come on, Tess. Don’t be like that. At least let me apologise properly. I was hoping we could-”
“Stop.” My hand slices the air between us. “Whatever you’re about to suggest, the answer’s no.”
“Not even a drink?”
“I don’t want to be involved with you anymore, Lyle.” My voice cracks like glass. “So stop circling me like this. What you’re doing? It counts as workplace harassment. You know that, right?”
His grip slips off, and I smooth the wrinkles he left behind like I’m erasing him.
“You’ve changed.”
“Good.” I sling my bag higher on my shoulder. “That was the point.”
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