Page 166 of The Difference Between

I stand and she follows suit. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to it.”

“Sure,” she says, walking me to the door. “Are you okay, Reese?”

I look past her to the view of the city I once coveted then force yet another smile I don’t feel. “I’m fine.” I take a breath. “But you should know—” She looks at me. “If you ever send me on a sabbatical to thank me again or question who I do or don’t have in my life, I’ll quit.”

She opens her mouth but I walk out the door.

And then I get to work.

I work and I work.

All of Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday morning when Matt strolls into my office with a lollipop, I don’t even fantasize about weaponizing it.

“How’s Fizz Co?” I ask without looking away from my computer.

“A shitload of work,” he says with a chuckle. “How was vacation?”

I bought a business, lost the future I thought I’d have, and had my heart broken; calling it vacation is straight up blasphemy.

“Fine” is all I say.

I do not answer my sisters’ calls.

I do not answer my mom’s calls.

I block Gavin’s number.

On Friday afternoon, I’m at my desk, clicking mindlessly through emails when the familiar scaffold lifts into view. It’s Jake the window washer. He looks the same as he did last time I saw him. Same smile. Same harness and hard hat. Same low wage.

I step to the window as his squeegee drags methodically across it.

A clear pane of hot sand.

It’s cool out today, it must be freezing out there, but he doesn’t look bothered. His eyes meet mine and I wave; he waves back.

Without too much thought, I make two cups of coffee and grab my coat. I keep my head down as I pass the conference room—there’s some sort of office celebration happening behind the frosted glass that I do not want to get roped into—and go to the elevator that’s thankfully empty.

Even so, as the doors close, initial panic flutters.

Hot cups. Coffee. Elevator music. Mint gum. Buttons on the wall. I am not trapped.

At the top floor, I exit then climb the stairs to the roof where the door is wedged open with a brick. A blustery breeze blasts my face as soon as I step outside.

Jake is easy to find.

“Hi,” I say, gesturing with a cup of now lukewarm coffee. “Thought you might like this.”

He does a double take as he unbuckles his harness. “Thanks.”

“I’m Reese.”

He grins. “Jeremy.”

So close.

“You always hang out on the roof with coffee?” he asks, taking a cup from me.

I laugh a little. “I don’t know why I’m up here,” I admit. “Curious I guess. It’s a dangerous job.”