“If you look at that phone one more time, Charlie, I’m going to take it from you and call him myself!” Steph reached for my phone as we ate lunch down the street from the office.

I held it out of her way. “I’ll put it in my pocket, okay?” And try not to take it out every five minutes, like I’d been doing for three days now. Yeah, three days . . .

She twirled her fork around her lemon pepper linguini. “You can’t concentrate. You’re a mopey, irritable mess, and you’re slacking on your first big project.” Steph sighed and shook her head. “Something’s got to give.”

I knew that. But for some reason, I stared at my phone 24-7 to make sure I was doing the right thing. Like it would tell me or something.

“I just need time. It’ll pass.” I took a bite of my meatball sandwich.

“You don’t have that kind of time. You need to get your head on straight. Morgan won’t care what you have going on in your personal life. He’s going to be extra critical of you and your work.”

I continued to eat.

“Parker isn’t happy either,” she warned.

I huffed. “When I’m not hearing it from you, I’m hearing it from him, so—”

“Stop,” Steph dropped her fork, and it clattered loudly on the plate. “I know this isn’t easy. But please don’t take it out on me. I’m only trying to help you succeed.” She gave me a look, and I worried she might get up and walk away.

She’d been one of the best things to happen to me after prison, and I was letting this situation steamroll over our friendship.

I put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Steph.” I looked her straight in the eye. “I swear I don’t mean to take anything out on you. You’ve been an amazing friend to me, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

She smiled. “I’m on your side, Charlie. No matter what. You know that, right?”

I nodded. “You’re too good to me.”

“No. I’m acting how a friend should act. You deserve real friends.” She patted my hand when I pulled it back. I knew she was referring to the wrong type of friends I had before I went to jail. The ones who would use or manipulate me for drugs or money. “But, you have a serious decision to make. You either need to lay it on the line and call Trent, or you need to get him out of your head so you can focus.”

“You’re right. The answer is obvious. I guess it’s killing me to make it final.” I couldn’t foresee any scenario where Trent forgave me for lying to him and now for blowing him off. The only option was to forget him and get back to my life. But thinking about that was like driving a metal spike through my heart. Imagining what Trent went through that first night—if it was anything like what I went through—made my whole body ache. I went back and forth so many times. One moment I’d convinced myself to call; the next I thought I should text him a goodbye. In the end, I decided to let it go. Nothing I could say to him would make him understand, and I’d only complicate things. Leaving him in the dark was easier for both of us.

Maybe he didn’t even care that I ghosted. What if all of what we did and said was just a game? Something he’d do for fun and sexual kicks. Somehow, I doubted that deep in my gut, but it made me feel a little better knowing that he could’ve used me.

“What do you think I should do?” I asked.

“Oh no. I’m not going there.” She sighed. “I’d respect either decision. As long as you make one.”

I groaned. “Thank you, Steph. I’m glad I have you.” And I meant it. I decided to change the subject. “So why aren’t you heading this project?”

She took a bite of pasta. “Naomi wanted to give Parker a chance to lead. She knows I can do it. Parker, on the other hand, can be a loose cannon sometimes. He needs experience.”

I nodded.

Steph smiled. “And sometimes I think she likes to force Morgan and Parker together, just to see the sparks. They hate each other. But Naomi’s smart. She realizes Parker needs to learn to respect his superiors. He can be such an arrogant prick sometimes.”

I laughed. “Yeah, guys like him didn’t last a day in prison before someone’d made them their bitch.”

“I highly doubt the office politics of the research marketing world is as cutthroat as prison.”

I shrugged. “You’d be surprised.” I retrieved my phone from my pocket, unlocked the screen, and put it in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making a decision.” I bit my lip. “Delete Trent’s phone number for me.”

She wiped her hands on the napkin in her lap. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I pushed the phone closer as I took a drink of soda.

She picked up the phone and tapped, then looked up at me with hesitation. “Positive?”

“Yes!” I growled. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

“Okay, okay.” She tapped again and handed the phone back. “Done.”

“Thank you,” I said, my heart in my stomach.

“You going to be okay?”

I put the phone back in my pocket and signaled to the waiter for the check, avoiding her question.