Page 82 of The Wrong Promise

“No one has mentioned gifts. Does the Board give us a bonus or gift?”

She chuckles. “Not since I have worked here.”

We head up the elevator to level six. “I think I might take it up with Mr. Hendricks.”

“If anyone can convince him, it’s you,” she says mindlessly as the doors open.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re his girlfriend and all that.”

We step out of the elevator, and I grab her arm. “Trisha, what’sall that?”

She shrugs. “You’re together.”

“We’re not together-together,” I defend.

She frowns at me. “What’s the difference?”

I shake my head, unable to answer. I turn to Piper, who is staring at me. She gives me a pointed look and then focuses on her screen.

It’s uncomfortable being in the office where I used to work. Piper and I understood each other. I regret saying those things to her, especially after a half-dozen drinks, and now wish I could take it back. She doesn’t glance my way again, so I decide not to hang around.

My stomach turns, and I’m overcome with nausea. I burp, and it doesn’t feel good. “I’m heading back to the office,” I tell Trisha. “If you need help, please ask someone here to give you a hand, as I’m—” I cover my mouth with myhand and don’t quite make it to my office before rushing to the restrooms. I drop to my knees and puke in the toilet. Thank God no one is in here to hear me. I splash water on my neck and dab a paper towel around my eyes before rinsing my mouth. The end cubicle door opens, and my stomach drops. Lydia walks out and stares at me.

“Are you okay, Zara?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah. My stomach has been in knots since starting the new position. I don’t want to mess up.”

She eyes me in an understanding way. “I know what you mean. I’ve felt the same way, and my youngest kept me awake all night last night.” She checks herself in the mirror. “It’s why I look like I’m on the set ofThe Walking Dead.”

I giggle at Lydia. “It’s how I feel.”

“You might have eaten something to upset you,” she suggests. I’ve barely eaten today. “But if it continues, you might need to get checked out. Or you could test—” She stops herself. “Please get checked out, Zara.”

“I will if I’m not any better by tomorrow.”

It turns out I’m no better by Tuesday and decide to work from home. Jobe is in the office, keeping his distance in case I am contagious. With most viruses, the contagious period is a few days before, and since we didn’t get out of bed most of Sunday because we couldn’t get enough of each other, I suspect he is already doomed.

On Tuesday afternoon, I receive a text from him.

Sorry, but I won’t make it home for dinner. I’m meeting Harrison James after the next meeting and having dinner with him. We have much to discuss moving forward. How are you feeling?

A little better. Enjoy your dinner. Please say hello to him from me.

I haven’t told Jobe how upset I was with Piper. Or anything about the gossip. Yet I feel awful at what went down. I quickly send a text to Piper and George apologizing for my outburst the other night.

Oh God, here it comes again. I run into the bathroom and heave.

A few hours later, the door bangs shut.

How long have I been asleep? I check the time, and it’s almost midnight. I listen out but Jobe doesn’t come into my room. I’m too tired to dwell on why he didn’t check in on me so I roll over and go straight back to sleep.

“Zara. Zara.”

Gentle shaking.

I open my eyes to Jobe, dressed in a business suit, standing over me. Sunlight breaks through the drapes. “Hi.”

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