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Pathetic.

I crawled into bed and stayed there. For three days, I existed in a haze of sleep and self-pity. The curtains stayed closed. The phone stayed off. I ordered food I barely touched and watched TV I didn’t actually see. It was noise to drown out the silence.

My brain kept circling back to her. The good memories. The beach. My bed. She’d been happy. And then the other memories filtered in. The ones that hurt.

I didn’t have time for this. I pulled the pillow over my face and groaned into it.

On the fourth day, I finally dragged myself into the office. Not because I wanted to but because the pile of work I’d been ignoring had reached critical mass. When I finally charged my phone and turned it on, the notification count made me want to throw it against the wall.

I scrolled through the messages, feeling absolutely nothing. Some lawyer I was. These people were paying me good money to handle their issues, and I couldn’t even handle my own life. All of their problems felt trivial. Insignificant. Like worrying about a paper cut when you were bleeding out from a gut wound.

I knew that wasn’t fair. These were real issues affecting real people’s careers and livelihoods. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not when every time I closed my eyes, I saw Darcy’s face. Heard her voice.

Fake relationship.

I shoved the phone aside and stared at the wall.

My assistant knocked on the door around noon, poking her head in with a concerned expression. “Mr. Blackwell? Your two o’clock is here. The Spencer contract review?”

I blinked at her. “Reschedule it.”

“Sir, this is the third time we’ve rescheduled. They’re getting frustrated.”

“Then they can find another lawyer.”

Her eyes went wide. I’d never said anything like that before. I was the guy who bent over backward for clients. I answered calls at midnight and worked weekends without complaint. But that guy felt like a stranger now.

“Just… give me another day,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Tell them I’m dealing with a personal emergency.”

She nodded slowly and retreated, closing the door behind her. I sat there in the silence, surrounded by case files I couldn’t focus on and messages I couldn’t answer. The office felt wrong. Too quiet. Too empty. The walls pressed in like they were trying to suffocate me. I wanted to be on the beach with fresh air and an endless horizon.

I thought about calling her. I pulled out my phone with my finger hovering over her contact. One tap. That was all it would take. I wanted to ask her how she was doing. I even considered apologizing for walking out.

But apologize for what? For being hurt that she’d called us fake? For wanting more than she was willing to give?

Hell no.

She was the one who had pushed me away. She was the one who had chosen her career over whatever we had. If she wanted me, she knew where to find me.

Somehow, I made it through the day and was far too eager to get home and into a fresh bottle.

I was three drinks in when my phone rang. I almost ignored it. But something made me glance at the screen.

Lou Corwin.

My stomach dropped. For one wild second, I thought maybe something had happened to Darcy. Maybe she was hurt or in trouble.

I answered before I could talk myself out of it. “Hello?”

“What the hell did you do to my daughter?”

Not concern. Not worry. Accusation.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know what ideas you put in her head, but she yelled at me.” Lou’s voice was tight with barely contained fury. “Yelled at me, Beau. In my own office. Said things I never thought I’d hear from her mouth. And now she’s not talking to me. Won’t answer my calls, won’t respond to my texts. It’s been days.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You think I did that?”