It takes me approximately fifty-two years to figure out what to wear to meet with Trent. It has to be professional, because I want him to take me seriously, but sexy enough that he’ll be a little more receptive. But not too sexy. Just a little sexy. Professional and sexy and cute and modest.

I go through my entire closet and decide this mythical perfect outfit simply doesn’t exist. I fling everything on the bed in disgust. Ally shows up at my bedroom door just as I get to the very back of the closet, to the things I haven’t touched in years. I pull out an old Halloween costume, a figure skating outfit I’d worn a few years ago. I hold it up in front of me.

“Professional and sexy?”

Ally shakes her head, fighting back a grin. “Too many feathers.”

“You’re probably right.” I toss it on the bed with the rest of my discarded choices.

Ally comes over to the bed and starts pawing the rejects.

“Are you nervous?” she asks, not looking up at me.

I hesitate, but then shrug. “Yeah. Very.” No point in lying to my sister.

We had decided that I would have to go to Trent. Ask for my job back, or at least a job. At this point I would take anything — give me a job in the mail room or something — as long as it gave me a paycheck while I searched for another job.

After everything that happened, I knew that one way or another I had to leave Loft & Barn — I just couldn’t afford to do it so abruptly.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope we could work out the rest of it too. I had read Trent’s Lovemail message a hundred times — his insistence that Lara had kissed him, that he’d been trying to push her away when I saw them. I want to believe him — I want it with all my heart. And I have this idea that if I just see him in person, maybe I’ll be able to get a better read on the situation.

Which is why I need the perfect outfit, one that’s professional but sexy but not too much or too little of either.

“What about this?” Ally asks, holding up a royal blue pencil skirt. I’d bought it on a whim one day but had never actually felt brave enough to wear it.

I take it from her and hold it against my hips. “This could work. What shirt?”

“Hmmm.” Ally keeps rummaging through the clothes that are heaped on the bed. She extracts something white and gauzy.

“How about this?”

“Brilliant.” It’s a white collared shirt (professional) but made of a sheer fabric (sexy.) I’ll wear it with a camisole (professional) with a plunging neckline (sexy.)

“You’re good at this,” I tell my sister, taking the blouse from her and holding it up with the skirt. I admire the effect in the mirror and yes, it’s perfect.

“Ha. Well, when you’re in this thing,” Ally says, smacking the chair with the heel of her hand, “You end up staring at people’s clothes a lot. Now, have you figured out what you’re going to say?”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I’m hoping the words just come to me when I see him.”

“Just don’t go all loopy when you see him,” Ally warns. Her green eyes flash.

“Me? Loopy?” I bat my eyes at her and she cracks a smile.

“Come on, Hannah. This is serious.”

“I know it is.” Her words bring me crashing back down. I’ve been throwing all my worries into picking out the perfect outfit — mostly because if I let myself think about what I’m doing, I’m going to be a wreck.

The truth is, I’m scared to see him again. I’m scared that I won’t be able to believe him about Lara. I’m scared that I’m going to have to grovel for my job back. I’m scared that he won’t give it to me.

I have to try though.

And even though I’m terrified, a part of me can’t wait to see him. I had managed to get very attached to him over the past few weeks — months, if you count the time I knew him as Mister Bigshot — and the truth is, I just miss him. I miss his smile, the way he makes me laugh. And yes, the way he kisses me, the way he can make my toes curl, make me scream his name. I’ve never had that in my life before, and now I’m afraid it’s slipping out of my grasp.

* * *

I take the train down to the office. When I get there, I hesitate, hovering just outside the big glass doors. I look through them for a minute, worrying I’ll run into someone I know — Charlene or someone else from our team. Worrying that I’ll see him.

But the lobby is almost deserted and eventually I force myself to go in. The security guards merely wave me in when they see me — I guess no one told them that I got sacked.

I ride the elevator up to the thirtieth floor, and the entire ride it feels as if I’ve left my stomach in the lobby. I just get tenser and tenser as the elevator climbs. By the time the doors ping open on the thirtieth floor, I’ve pretty much decided to hit the ground floor button and go right back downstairs and out the door.

The only thing that stops me is that when I get to the thirtieth floor, there’s a crowd of people waiting to get on the elevator. They step aside to let me off and stare at me expectantly and I find my feet moving automatically, walking me right down the hall. My feet are clearly more confident than I am.

As I make my way towards Trent’s office, my heart thuds in my chest the entire time. When I get there I find Lottie sitting at her desk, typing away at a furious pace. She looks up when she sees me, although her fingers keep moving.

“Hello Hannah,” she says. Her tone is cool and my nerves get worse. Maybe this is a bad idea.

“Is Trent in?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, but it’s hesitant. “I don’t suppose you have an appointment?”

I’ve never needed an appointment to see him before, but I don’t say that. I just shake my head. “I was hoping he’d just have a few minutes?”

“One moment, please.”

Lottie picks up the phone and speaks so quietly into it that I can barely hear what she’s saying, even though I’m standing less than six feet away from her.

Finally, she sets the phone back in its cradle. “He’ll see you.”

“Thank you.” I breathe the words out in a sigh of relief. For a second there, I’d been genuinely afraid. He hadn’t called or messaged since yesterday morning, and I was worried that I’d made a mistake in not getting back to him earlier.

I walk through the first door and then down the hall towards his office. The door is closed and I knock lightly.

There’s no response and I’m just about to knock again when I hear a gruff, “Come in.”

I pull the door open slowly. He’s sitting behind his desk and right away, I’m hit with a wave of feelings. Worry, fear, lust, affection — you name it, it’s coursing through my chest right now.

The expression on his face looks just as complicated. His eyes narrow at me and I can’t read what’s written there.

“Hi,” I say softly. Tentatively. I step into his office and cross the floor towards his desk. He doesn’t get up or say anything at all so I slip into the guest chair across from him. This already isn’t going how I expected and now I swallow down a lump of anxiety that’s gathered in my throat.

“I got fired,” I blurt out.

Trent steeples his hands together, his eyes narrowing even further. “I heard.”

“You did?”

Somehow that surprises me. I would have thought I would have heard something from him if he already knew. Was he really just going to let Charlene fire me? For going out with him?

“I hear everything, Hannah. You should know that by now. I’m the CEO of this company and nothing here happens without my knowledge. I wish that was a lesson you could have learned earlier.”

His mouth is thin, but his voice is thick with barely suppressed rage.

It stuns me for a second.

“What are you talking about?” My mind is racing.

He shakes his head. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I honestly don’t, Trent. I came here to ask you for my job back.” The words feel even more humiliating now. He’s looking at me like I’m worse than the mud on the bottom of his shoe.

“What is going on?” I finally ask. I bite back the tears that threaten to fall.

“Kevin Hartley,” he says.

“Huh? Who?”

“From the launch. The journalist I saw you talking to.”

“What about him? I told you he just asked about my dress.”

“And you didn’t speak to him after that? Maybe after you thought you saw me kissing Lara?”

My mind is racing now. What in the world is he talking about? “No. I left the party right away, after … that happened.”

He leans back in his seat and folds his hands behind his head. Normally I would be salivating at the sight of his ab muscles stretched out like that, but right now all I can think about is how this conversation seems to have somehow gone from bad to worse.

Trent reaches out to tap a button on his laptop and then he starts reading.

“Inside sources say the company’s new direction is entirely the work of CEO Trent Whittaker…”

He keeps reading, and as the full scope of the article hits me, my breath catches in my throat. I know immediately how bad this is for Trent. This kind of coverage … I shake my head. I can see why he’s upset.

Then I realize why he’s looking at me the way he is.

“You can’t think I gave them this.” My fear is replaced with indignation.

“Who else could it have been, Hannah?”

I think about the fight I overheard the day we were out at Luke’s workshop. Luke, Trent, me, and Ally. My mouth snaps closed. He really thinks I did this.

“That’s what I thought.” The expression on his face is one of smug satisfaction, as if some part of him is enjoying the thought that I might have screwed him over. As if I’ve just proved him right about everything he thought about women all along.

I grip the arms of the chair, so hard my knuckles turn white. I force myself to keep my voice level.

“I can’t believe you would even think that about me.”

“I can’t believe I went so long without thinking it.”

Tears are finally starting to prick my eyes, despite my best efforts to stay them. I sit there stunned, unable to speak or move. I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like I’m watching a sandcastle get washed under by a huge wave, and there’s nothing I can do to save it. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world.

“I think you should go,” Trent says. His voice is cold but when I look up, his eyes are sad. He really believes I did this. He really believes I betrayed him.

I force myself to stand up, even though my legs feel as weak as little matchsticks.

I try to think of something clever and cutting to say, something that will make him realize the mistake he’s making, but all I can do is shake my head.

“Goodbye, Trent.”