I stay late at the office—very late—trying to keep up with all of Sandra’s latest directives. My motivation is back in full force. Now that I have a plan, I feel like I can do anything. With a little Advil in the mix, I’m unstoppable.

I’m about to leave the office when the message from Jax comes in. He doesn’t text me often, and when he does, I know it’s important.

I won’t be home until very late—possibly not until tomorrow. You don’t have to stay at my place alone if you don’t want to.

I consider it for a minute, but…we’re not there yet. I’d feel weird about being there with his staff if he was away.

That’s okay—I’ll be at home.

I love you.

That’s the first time he’s sent me those words in a text. A physical record exists now. My heart beats faster.

I love you. Is everything OK?

No.

I wait. He’ll send more if he wants me to know.

My mother isn’t well. They need me to come right away, and I’m not sure how long it will take before I can leave.

I’m so sorry!!

Part of me wishes he’d taken me with him, but that’s an insane expectation to have at this point in our relationship. And Sandra needs me here.

The thought brings me up short. Would I choose Basiqué over him if he asked me to go?

The answer that comes immediately to mind makes me uncomfortable in its clarity. Am I that much of a monster?

It’s all right. I’m here now. Have to go.

I send him back a heart.

Mark drives me back to my apartment, and inside of ten minutes I’m dressed in my comfiest sweats, Chinese food ordered from the restaurant down the street, a glass of wine in my hand.

After everything that’s happened, I need a breather.

I wish it could have come under better circumstances.

The food is good, but I find myself missing Laurence’s smile, his laughing enthusiasm, the way he’d take something simple that I liked and make it into an artistic creation.

Don’t be so sappy, I tell myself. You’ll be back there before you know it.

An hour later, full of Chinese food and wine, I tuck myself into bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

Tomorrow will come early. And I’ll be ready to meet it.

* * *

I make it a point to be extra charming at my session with Carl, and I don’t fight it when he won’t push me to the max. If I’m going to make it through the next few months, I’m going to need to take everyone’s advice into account—especially Carl’s. One bad decision at the gym can throw me off my game for the entire day, and I can’t afford that.

At my apartment I choose my favorite pieces, dressing like I’m dressing for battle. No makeup team today, but I take my time applying every layer until I’ve almost done it as well as they can.

I sweep my hair back into a no-nonsense chignon and admire myself in the mirror.

I look hot.

The bags under my eyes aren’t nearly as pronounced now that I’ve made a firm decision about what I’m going to do.

The only snag?

Mark doesn’t show up.

For months, he’s been waiting at the curb when I come down, always right on time. But when I get there, there’s no town care waiting.

My stomach turns.

Something must have happened.

Mark would never bail on me. There must have been an accident of some kind, probably a bad one.

Oh, god.

I don’t call him—what if he’s lying in the hospital somewhere?—and hail a taxi instead, urging the driver to get to the Basiqué offices as soon as I can.

I’m jittery and nervous as the elevator takes me up. I’m a little later than usual, but not so much that Sandra will be here. I need to find out what happened with Mark. That’s my first priority.

I hurry down the hall and move to unlock the office doors…

…only to find that they’re already unlocked. All the lights are on.

I’m not alone.

I pull open the doors and step inside, the hairs on the back of my neck pricking up.

Sandra isn’t here, but someone else is.

She’s tall and has auburn hair that has been straightened into a shining wave down her back. It’s pinned in place like a work of art.

And she’s sitting at my desk.

“Hello,” she says with a big smile as I step into the office. “How can I help you? Ms. Sarzó isn’t in yet.” She gets up from the desk and comes around to greet me.

“I’m—” I can’t find the words. What the hell? What the hell? “Who are you?”

“My name is Lydia, and I’m Ms. Sarzó’s assistant. Did you have a meeting scheduled with her?”

“No, I—” I sputter, then take a deep breath. “I’m Catherine Schaffer. I’m Ms. Sarzó’s assistant. I’ve been working for her for over a year.”

Lydia blushes, biting her lip. “Oh, I didn’t—I didn’t know that. I got a call yesterday evening about filling the position this morning, and of course I took it. I didn’t think—”

Sandra sweeps into the room.

“Lydia,” she says. “I have changes to the schedule.” Then she reaches out a hand and beckons for Lydia to come take her purse. The other woman rushes to Sandra and takes her purse, then shoots me an apologetic look.

“Sandra,” I say. “There’s been a mistake.”

“There’s no mistake,” she says in a clipped tone. “Mr. Hunter told me last night that you’re being transferred, effective immediately.”

“Mr. Hunter?”

How could he do this to me?

Lydia follows Sandra into her office, and Sandra takes her place behind her desk and starts rattling off changes. Lydia doesn’t even have a notepad ready.

“Sandra, that wasn’t discussed with me. I never wanted—”

“It’s done, Ms. Schaffer. Now, if you don’t mind, there’s a lot of work to be done.”

In the space of a moment, my work for Basiqué is over.