Page 83 of Synced to Us

McKenna’s footsteps sound out in the hallway before she peers into my office, her eyes widening at the sight of me. “Whoa. Are you…okay?”

“Do I not look it?” I comb strands of hair away from my face and swivel in my chair, crossing my flannel pajama-clad legs.

McKenna steps in, belly first. “You’re normally so put together. I had no idea you even owned flannel. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen you so, uh, relaxed.”

“Impulse online purchase with two-day shipping. And you can say it. I look like shit.”

And I do. I can’t remember showering today or when I last washed my hair. My dry cleaning is piled up in the corner of my closet, and I’m fairly certain I crawled out of bed and didn’t bother to smooth the sheets—something I did religiously, as it helped set up my day for success.

What is success anymore? I’m jobless, hopeless, and loveless. Doesn’t sound like success to me.

“Clearly I’ve shown up in the nick of time to take you to brunch.” McKenna crosses her arms over her enviable boobs. Somehow, she’s tripled in size in the two weeks I’ve crawled under a rock and never come out.

“That’s nice, but I have all these emails get through.”

“Sure. Because it looks like you’re really working through them.”

“I am,” I defend. “I just don’t have to be dressed for it.”

“You’ve never been able to turn down a mimosa, and it’s been too long since I’ve lived vicariously through someone else’s drinking. Oh, and I’m not going anywhere until you say yes.”

“No.”

“Dee. What is this?” McKenna’s arms swing out as she gestures around the room. “Since when have you given up so quickly and completely? So you’ve been terminated. Big deal. Any other firm would be lucky to have you.”

“Not with the scarlet D on my back. And yes, I mean dick,” I say drolly before swinging back to my computer. McKenna snickers like a twelve-year-old. Maybe if I click my mouse a bunch of times and appear busy, she’ll go away.

No such luck.

“The Dee I crawled out of a hole with would never accept such defeat.”

My shoulders tighten. “That Dee didn’t have everything she’s worked for, her entire career that she bled for, blow up in her face.”

“No, but mine did.”

I twist in her direction, but not all the way.

McKenna continues softly, “When my past was leaked to the press, I thought it was over for me, too. It was all I had, all I thought I was good at, until Mason. Yes, you, helped me see I had so many other talents to fall back on—I was just too afraid to find them. And what about trust. God, trusting someone. That’s the hardest part, isn’t it? Relying on someone else for support when everything in your life goes wrong. Is that why you walked away from Wyn?”

Her change in topic is meant to put me off-balance. She’s mixed it with the type of open honesty that made me bring her close in the first place during that freshmen year, when we roomed together and McKenna was so quiet, so broken.

A lethal combination, if I’m not careful.

“Wyn was never a sure thing,” I say. “I could never ask him to help me deal with my secrets coming to light when that isn’t what we agreed to. It was a verbal contract. Nothing more.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“McKenna, I can’t deal with this right now.” I rub at my temples and lower my gaze to my keyboard. “My assist—my ex-assistant sent me all these spreadsheets and reports to wrap up which I have to get done so I don’t have to think about this anymore.”

My attention alights on the last, bolded email I haven’t gotten to, Jenna forwarding over an email from… I squint. Wyn? The email’s dated weeks ago. It must’ve fallen through the corporate cracks. I inwardly curse, recalling when Wyn asked me if I’d checked my emails while we were in the elevator before the gala. I thought he was making polite conversation. Rather, he was cluing me in that he trusted me enough to dig into his financials and help him. The help I promised and didn’t deliver.

I lean forward, reading with enough intense focus to stop the guilt. He’s attached his family’s bank accounts. I open the preview and skim. In ten seconds, I notice a discrepancy. Upon further investigation reveals multiple, recurrent discrepancies. I frown, pulling up a blank document to type up notes. McKenna clears her throat next to me.

Blast. She’s still here. I eye her over my shoulder.

“Wyn’s in terrible shape, in case you were wondering.”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t—”

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