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I hung my head. “Please. It’s enough.”
“Are you really okay just leaving it there?”
“She’s married.”
“You told me yourself they’re separated.”
“And even if there was anything there,” I said, swirling my glass just to hear the ice clink, “it doesn’t mean anything if I can’t get by in this city.”
She folded her arms on the counter. “You should just admit it if there is something there. It’ll feel better getting it off your chest.”
I turned around, standing up. “I should get home already. I’m getting tired.”
“London.” She caught me, her hand on my arm. “You can’t just hide from reality forever.”
That comment always cut so damn deep. I wasn’t hiding from reality. I was facing it—I was the one being realistic. Being sensible. Being practical.
God dammit.
Chapter 20
I wasn’t sure what had gotten me here. The office was stylish, a blend of modern and Art Deco giving it a flair somewhere between playful and elegant, and the receptionist smiled politely at me, although I’d seen enough polite smiles to know when someone was ready to put someone out the door. Things must have been stressful here.
“Hi there, what are you here for today?” she said, a young woman with a tight blonde bun.
What a fantastic question. I wasn’t even sure, just that I needed to see her. “I’m looking for Cameron.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Miss Mercier is quite busy at the moment. Can I pass on a message?”
I glanced past reception at the glass wall into a meeting room, a quietly heated argument going on judging by their expressions. No sign of Cameron. Must have been stress all over the office today. “I think she’ll make a second to see me. Would you tell her I’m here?”
“Mm. Your name?” I’d never seen a person so skeptical.
“London.”
She paused with her hand on the phone. “Sinclair? The real estate agent?”
“In flesh and blood. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Ah…” She made a face. “Well… Miss Mercier has switched to—”
“Do you want me to walk back there and just go find her myself?” I wasn’t sure what was possessing me right now, but whatever it was, it wasn’t taking prisoners. The receptionist flickered a nervous smile.
“My apologies. I’ll, er… let her know.” She punched a few numbers on the phone, holding it up to her ear. “Hi, Cameron, er… Miss London Sinclair is here to see you. Are you expecting her?”
She raised her eyebrows, nodding along at sound from the other side.
“I’ll send her over. Thank you.” She hung up, giving me an odd look. “I… apologize. I didn’t know you had an appointment.”
I smiled wryly, my heart beating faster. “Must have slipped my mind to mention it. Very sorry.”
She pointed down the hall. “End of the hall, make a left. She said you can walk right in. Have a lovely day, Miss Sinclair.”
“You too. And just call me London.” I walked past her, heading down the hall, and out the corner of my eye, I saw a woman on the verge of tears pacing the floor in a breakroom. People falling apart at the office was hardly a new sight for me, but… I ached wondering what was happening. Wondering what it meant that I couldn’t stop wondering how Cameron was doing, how her business was doing.
The door to her office had her nameplate on it, Cameron Mercier, and I stopped for a second just to admire how nice her name looked in that plating before I knocked once, pushing the door open.
Inside the office, Cameron stood at a full-wall window overlooking the water, her back to me, dressed sharply in a pinstripe suit, one hand in her pocket and the other holding a coffee cup. And—well, whether I liked it or not, the fact remained that she looked damn good in her power posture like this, and it… did things to my chest, knowing how we’d been before.
