Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Eamon, on the other hand, hasn’t moved. He sits in the guest chair beside me, hands folded so tightly I can see the white of his knuckles, eyes locked on the far wall. For a second, I wonder if he’s having a stroke.
Nathan keeps glancing between Eamon and me, like he expects his right-hand man to jump in and do the talking for him. But Eamon doesn't say a word. The silence stretches, thick and awkward, before Nathan finally takes the lead. "Tell me what you want. More money? A bigger role?" He leans in a little, his eyes locked on me, all business now. "I'll match whatever offer they're dangling in front of you, Dee. And if a new title is what you're after, just say the word. It's yours."
I hesitate. Not because it isn’t tempting. For a split second, I imagine accepting a promotion. But then I remember my real reason for leaving—the feelings I have for Eamon that will never be returned. In my gut, I know this is the right move.
I shake my head. “Thank you, but no. This isn’t a negotiating tactic. It’s just… time.”
The look on Nathan’s face is somewhere between disappointment and acceptance.
But Eamon? Still nothing. Not a word, not a sound, just that marble statue pose and a jaw that looks one snarl away from snapping in half.
Nathan exhales, then stands and rounds the desk. “You’ve got my blessing, Dee. I’ll even write the reference myself. You’re one of the best hires I’ve ever made.” He offers his hand, and when I take it, he does the double handshake thing—one hand strong, the other on top. “You let me know if New York doesn’t treat you right. There’s always a place here for you.”
The words settle heavily in my chest. It means more than I can say. “Thank you, Nathan.” I guess we’re just going to ignore Eamon, or actually, Eamon’s lack of reaction.
Nathan nods. “Take the rest of today to sort things out. And if you want to make it public, you should be the one to tell the team.”
I nod, wiping my palms again, and get up to leave when Eamon finally moves. Not just moves, he fucking erupts.
He stands so fast the chair shoots backward, skidding against the hardwood and slamming into the wall with a thunderclap. I jump, heart in my throat as Nathan’s eyes widen almost comically.
“You can’t fucking leave,” Eamon says, voice low and raw, like each word is being ripped from his bones. He pins me with a glare, every muscle in his body coiled for war.
My mouth goes dry. “Excuse me?”
He takes a step closer, the heat of him radiating across the desk, blue eyes burning through me. “You don’t get to just walk away, Deirdre. Not after everything—” His jaw flexes, cutting off whatever would have come next.
I square my shoulders, adrenaline drowning out the last of my fear. So, Mr. High and Mighty finally decided he wants something from me. “I’m not asking for permission. I’m giving my notice, just like any other employee.”
Eamon’s hands curl into fists at his sides, and I can’t help but notice how the veins stand out along his forearms. His spicy scent wraps around me, and I fight the urge to jump his bones. Get yourself under control. “You don’t get to walk out on me,” he spits out, rage and something else warring behind his eyes.
Nathan is on his feet now, trying to de-escalate, but I barely hear him. It’s just me and Eamon, locked in a silent game of chicken, neither willing to back down.
Finally, I say what I’ve been holding in for months. “I’m not walking out on you. You never had me.”
He stares at me like he doesn’t recognize the person in front of him. Then, without warning, he turns and storms out of Nathan’s office, slamming the door behind him, hard enough to rattle the paintings on the wall.
The silence in his wake is suffocating.
Nathan sits back down, running a hand over his hair. “I’ll talk to him. He just… doesn’t handle change very well.”
I manage a laugh, but it’s hollow. “He handles a lot of things badly. I’ll survive.”
Nathan gives me a look—half admiration, half apology. “We really are going to miss you, Dee. When are you going to tell Roni? Or does she already know?”
“I didn’t tell her.” I stand, legs a little shaky, and force a smile. “I didn’t want to ask her to keep secrets from you.”
“I understand,” Nathan tells me, and I nod, but my pulse is still rocketing through the stratosphere. I just quit my job. Like, for real. It’s done, out loud, and there’s no way to take it back.
Nathan tells me to make sure to tell Roni as soon as possible. As I nod my head, he says something else about paperwork, and I can’t even process it right now since my brain is busy replaying the last few minutes on an infinite loop.