Page 90 of Reply All
“I—” I begin to address the room. “Excuse me, I have to…” But I never finish my sentence as I power-walk toward the conference room door and walk out, pushing myself in between Will and his grandfather—the Liams.
Once I clear the door, I start running and don’t stop.
I don’t stop when I hear him call my name.
I don’t stop when I reach the front doors of their offices.
I run like a madwoman to the elevators and wait impatiently, praying that for once in my life—once in my entire fucking life—luck will be onmyside.
I hold my breath and only release when the elevator dings and the doors begin to open. I practically jump into the elevator and frantically punch the lobby button. But despite my best efforts, Will still manages to jump in right before the doors close.
* * *
“Bridge,”he says, devastation clear on his face. “Bridge, I’m so fucking sor?—”
“Do not,” I cut him off, my voice breaking as tears begin to stream down my face. “Do not eventryto apologize,” I hiss. “You’ve been lying to me formonths. And for what? Some sort of fucked up corporate espionage thing? Just so you could get information and have the upper hand in negotiations? I mean, Jesus, all that talk about corporate greed this morning was just talk, then. I guess I never expected it from the guy I fell in love with.” I shock myself—and Will—for revealing that last piece of information in such a careless manner. But his betrayal has finally cracked me open and there was no way to keep it in anymore. “Guess that guy doesn’t exist, though.”
Will rears back, eyes widening. “What? No! No way, that’s not what happened. Not at all. We were—we fuckingare—real. Realer than anything I’ve ever had in my life. I was not using you.”
“Really? Because it kind of looks like you were. Onseveraloccasions we went into detail on pricing, did we not? Even though we agreed to try to keep work talk to a minimum. Yet you still used me to get whatever scraps of information you could.”
“That’s ridiculous! I absolutely did not.”
“Throughout the entire development of this season’s collection, we’ve been getting pushback fromyourcompany’s finance team. They’ve been making my team’s life impossible. And guess what? You are the literal head of that department.Youwere making my work harder than it had to be.”
“It was my job, Bridge. It was my job to make sure we got the highest margins, and it’s not like Iwantedto make your work life miserable. These weren’t my decisions. They were—” He groans. “None of that matters. None of the work shit matters. What matters to me is that you know that this is real. That my feelings are real. And I’m still me. It’s stillus.Give me time to explain. I was?—”
But just as he begins to spew whatever excuse he could muster up at the drop of a hat, the elevator dings and the doors open. Immediately, I sprint out, my heels clicking and clacking on the marble floors. Will is on my tail, calling out my name, begging me to stop. But I’m so close. I’m so, so close to the revolving doors, to the streets of New York, to catching the first subway outta here. Except my shoes weren’t made for running and I’m an absolute klutz, so I wipe out in front of everyone, falling face and wrist first on the ground.
Of course, because why would the universe let me get away with at least a single shred of dignity? Why wouldn’t it give me the chance to leave with my head held high after the chaos I just witnessed happen before my eyes?
For what feels like the hundredth time in an hour, I ask myself, “Where is the silver lining in all of this?”
The tears are hot as they stream down my face, no end in sight. I’ve finally hit my limit, I think. So I surrender and sit on the floor, cradling my left wrist to my chest with my right hand. I never lie, it’s true, but I tell myself that most of these tears stem from the pain shooting up and down my wrist and hand, and not because my heart feels like it’s been torn to shreds and my mind has been put through a blender.
My eyes are closed as I softly sob in the middle of this cold lobby, but I sense Will’s warmth and scent—so familiar to me now—as he sits beside me on the marble floor.
“Does it hurt?” His voice is honey and sweetness, and I want to seek comfort in it.
But I don’t trust it or him—or even myself, for that matter. After all, I’m the one who keeps getting myself into these situations with the wrong people.
It’s clear that I’m the problem, here.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “Yes, you hurt me.”
His breath hitches. “I—I meant the wrist. But… Yeah. I know.” I can hear the pain in his voice, and I resent it. He doesn’t get to feel pained over hurting me.
Finally, I gather enough strength to open my eyes and look up at him. Through my tears, his face is blurry, but I can still see how deep his regret goes as he looks back at me.
“You lied to me,” I whisper.
“I didn’t. I just didn’t clarify a few things.”
I scoff at the audacity, but he at least has the decency to look miserable as he says it.
“Lie of omission, then.”
Gently, he takes my injured wrist in his hands and examines it. “It’s swelling up, Bridge. We need to go to a doctor. Or at the very least we need to ice this immediately.”
