Page 103 of Manhattan Kiss

“Oh good, you’re here,” Avril says, coming in and closing the door behind her. “How is everything?”

“Fine,” I say, as I take a seat.

Avril perches on her desk.

“We were just wondering if you had any questions about the general manager job or if you’ve had any more thoughts.”

I feel so ungrateful. These two women have been nothing but welcoming and supportive to me, and now they’re wanting to promote me and I’ve kept them hanging.

But I don’t want to prolong this agony. I’ve made my decision. I want to go home.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think I can stay away from home any longer.” My voice cracks as I get to the end of the sentence, and I mentally chastise myself. I want to stay professional.

“Are you okay?” Poppy asks.

“Of course,” I say. “A little homesick, I suppose.”

More than a little. All I’ve wanted to do since I had my last conversation with Deacon is to drive to Woolton Hall in my pajamas and get into bed with Darcy with a packet of chocolate biscuits and the remote control. I want to cry and have someone I love and trust tell me it’s going to be okay.

I don’t have anyone here in New York.

I suppose I could have gone and cried on Ryder and Scarlett’s shoulders. They would have been sympathetic and said all the right things. But I’m always the girl in the background to Ryder. I don’t want him to see me upset in New York. I want to show him, and Darcy, that I took New York by the balls.

It’s part of the reason I haven’t told Darcy that Deacon and I have split. Also, I know she would be sad for me but secretly pleased I don’t have anything to keep me in New York. And I wonder if part of her would have seen our breakup as inevitable. It’s not like I’ve ever been the girl who got the guy. That’s not been my story. Not ever.

But also, I just can’t bear the thought of telling Darcy and not being able to have her wrap her arms around me. I’d rather just deal with it myself, and when I’m feeling better, I can tell her that it didn’t work out.

“I’m sorry,” Avril says. “You’ve been working really hard. You’re probably tired as well.”

I nod. I don’t want to say anything else in case my voice comes out a strangled yelp.

“How are things with Deacon Black?”

I shake my head. “Oh, that’s…that’s not anything. Not anymore.”

Poppy shifts her chair closer to mine. “What happened?”

I try and steady myself. “It’s fine. It just didn’t work out.”

Avril’s expression of sympathy and concern is going to pop my bubble of professionalism and have me completely lose it, so I look away and focus on my hands in my lap.

“Really?” Poppy says.

“And I don’t want to mess you around about the general manager position. I don’t think I can take it. I’ve really enjoyed my time here, and I’ve learned so much. But I just want to go home.”

I can feel Avril and Poppy sharing a look, but no one says anything for a long time. Or at least it feels that way.

Avril speaks first. “Look, I know we’re technically your bosses, but we feel like we’ve built the start of a friendship while you’ve been here. I want to take my boss hat off and say screw the job, let’s just focus on you. I know you’re trying to shrug off this breakup as no big deal, but it’s allowed to be a big deal. You clearly had chemistry, and if you were prepared to come to us to tell us about it, then it can’t have been nothing.”

“We’ve all had breakups. We know that it’s awful,” Poppy says. “So take your time. We wouldn’t have asked you about the job if we’d have known you and… It’s not a good time to be making decisions.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going to change my mind about the job. I’m sorry, but I just can’t stay here.”

Poppy nods. “We’re not saying this to put pressure on you. We’re saying this because in the wake of a breakup, everything feels hopeless. You want to retreat and spend the day in bed watching horror movies and eating ice cream.”

“Horror movies?” Avril asks. “Who watches horror movies after a breakup? I want to watch nature documentaries. Anything factual. Anything on Bravo. Cooking shows.”

“I like horror movies,” Poppy says.