Why was he refusing to pick up his goddamn phone? I’d been trying to get a hold of him for hours now, but the stupid ass wouldn’t answer my calls or messages. If I knew his address, I’d run over there and shake some sense into him.

I understood why he was pissed. Hell, I’d be through the roof mad if the situation were reversed. But he needed to give me a chance to explain myself. Even so, I still didn’t get exactly why he was mad enough to cut off all communication. Sure, he’d be mad that I lied about going to the banquet with an ex-boyfriend instead of going stag like I had originally told him. But I was sure it had to be clear that I hated Jared’s guts and didn’t want to be there with him. Wasn’t it?

Sleep eluded me the entire night. I kept checking my phone every minute like a crazy woman in hopes that he’d reply. But nothing. Not one word the whole night.

Looking in the mirror at my puffy, bloodshot eyes, and red, splotchy skin, I couldn’t imagine going in to work today. I rubbed my fingers over the top of my swollen eyelids, hoping to massage some of the inflammation out of them, but no luck. They looked worse than ever.

Great. Just great. Not only did I have a full day’s work, but I had to drive two hours out of town to meet up with potential new clients and win them over with my charm and fun-loving personality—and heinously red, puffy eyes.

I had a long, hot shower, hoping it would aid with the swelling. The mirror completely fogged up, so I swiped it with a face cloth. Fantastic. Now my face was even more swollen than before.

I moved my head around, thinking that maybe it’d look better from different directions, but no. Still frightening as hell. Splashing cold water onto my face did nothing either.

Maybe twice had I ever called in sick in the five years I’d worked for Brentford. Many times I’d been sick. I just never took a day off. Ever. Admitting that you were sick was your first mistake. Mind over matter. Tough it out.

Of course, there was that one girls’ night out when Harper met Jack. He’d bought us delicious pink drinks that tasted like Heaven. The hangover the next day, however, was more like Hell. Even then, I’d only taken a couple hours off the next morning.

But today, looking at my grotesque self in the mirror, I was more than ready to throw in the towel. Yes, I was vain. I’d like you to show me one salesperson who would sell anything at all looking like this. Exactly. It just was not happening.

“Arrrrrhhhhhh!” I yelled at myself in the mirror, glad that nobody could hear me. “You will not allow a man to ruin your career. Do you hear me? Especially not one who doesn’t have the bloody decency to return one of your fifteen million texts or calls.” I deep breathed and found a backbone. “You will go to work. You will win over these new clients, disfigured Elephant Man face and all,” I said to the scary woman in the mirror. “Now stop being a big baby over some man you hardly know and get back out into the world.”

That’s all the pep I had in me today. I hoped like hell it would be enough.

In the parking lot, I ripped off my sunglasses, taking one final peek at my face in the visor before going into the office. “Ohhhh, no,” I whispered. The coffee had done nothing. All the makeup I had put on just seemed to exacerbate the issues and make the swelling look worse.

Deep breath.

Maybe I’d just lie to Dean and tell him I was having an allergic reaction to something. Yeah. Lying worked out so well for me yesterday. Let’s continue on that path. I replaced my dark glasses, deciding to face the music.

The wind felt comforting on my face and blowing through my hair. Luckily, it was sunny out, so maybe I could just keep my sunglasses on all day. Even indoors. That wouldn’t be suspicious at all.

“Hi, Harper. How are things going? Sorry I’m late. I hit a patch of traffic,” I lied. Shit, this was getting to be a habit now. I kept my glasses on, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Good,” Harper said in her cute, chipper voice. Nobody should be allowed to sound that happy all the time. “Dean’s in his office. No messages for you yet,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks. I’ll go meet with Dean and then I’m traveling offsite, likely for the day. I’ll have my phone on.” The meeting was a couple hours away, depending on traffic. Not a terrible drive, but not one that I particularly felt like doing today.

But the show must go on.

I strode briskly down the hall, hoping Harper didn’t ask me any questions—especially why I was wearing sunglasses inside the office—and knocked on Dean’s door. He yelled for me to come in.

“I’m about to leave for my meeting with the Langs. Just wanted to check in before I go. Anything else you need me to take down there besides the sample box?” The sample box was just as it sounded—a box with a fresh selection of our best produce for new clients to keep and peruse. It was a nice gesture that people really liked.

He peered up from his paperwork, eyeing me suspiciously. Please don’t ask me to take off my glasses. Please don’t ask me to take off my glasses. Suddenly, a huge grin overtook his face. “Have a rough night, Vivienne?” he asked, thinking I was wearing the glasses because I was up late having good time. Boy, he couldn’t be more wrong.

“Pretty bad. Thanks for asking. Now, is there anything else you need me to take?” I tried to be matter-of-fact, but as I spoke, I could feel my eyes start to get all watery again. Shit. You will not cry. You will not cry.

He put down his pen, shoving away from his desk. Dean rose out of his chair and roamed toward me, intent on finding out what was wrong. His hands reached up, gently removing my glasses. He was taken aback—I could tell it in his eyes—but he quickly recovered, handing me my glasses.

“Anything you want to talk about?” he said in his deep, soothing voice, his eyes still sizing me up, concerned.

“Nope. Nothing at all. I’ve got to get a move on if I’m going to be on time, and I’m always on time.”

“You sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, change of plans. I’m driving. Get your shit and I’ll meet you at my truck,” he said, striding back behind his desk where he dealt with the computer then shuffled all his papers into one big messy pile. Poor Harper would have a hell of a time sorting through that. “I’ll grab the sample box on my way out.”

“You don’t have to do this, Dean. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Another lie. In truth, I felt like a vulnerable child. I just wanted to crawl back into my bed and pull the covers over my head for a week.

“You don’t want to talk about what happened, fine. But you’re not driving on no sleep.” Dean slammed one of his drawers hard, making me jump. Then he stomped over to the filing cabinet by the door and grabbed his keys.

I remained stuck to the floor, as my mind thrashed around trying to find a way out of this. Part of me wanted Dean to drive so bad, I felt relief in every part of my aching, sleep-deprived body. The other part, the prideful part, was ready to fight him on this, even though I knew it wasn’t safe. That was stupid.

So, I did something smart for the first time in twenty-four hours. I got my shit and let Dean drive my pathetic self to my meeting.

We’d been driving for a while, and Dean hadn’t said word one to me. When I first got in, I assumed he’d be giving me the third degree, quizzing me about what happened. Instead, he didn’t say a thing.

To be honest, it was driving me a bit batty. We suddenly pulled into the parking lot of a pharmacy. Dean parked but left the truck running. “You want anything? I’m just going to get us some drinks for the drive,” he said as he opened his door, not looking at me.

Yeah, I’d like a do-over on the past twenty-four hours, then a great big nap. “Get me a chocolate bar. Any kind, surprise me,” I told him, peering out my window, wondering if Jason was out there driving some hot chick around who liked him and didn’t lie to him about ex-boyfriends and stupid awards banquets.

When the door didn’t close, I glanced over. Dean’s mouth was opened like he was going to say something, but then he closed it and the door. Hmm. Weird.

Silence was not my friend right now. I reached over to turn on the radio, trying to drown out the chaotic voices in my head. Why didn’t you just tell Jason the truth? Why did you lie? Evidently, the music didn’t help one bit.

A short time later, Dean’s door suddenly swung open. He threw a few bags in my direction as he climbed in. I quickly scrambled to hold onto the handles so the crap inside wouldn’t go flying every which way.

He pulled out of the parking spot with the grace and agility of a racecar driver. Before I knew it, we were off. “There’s a bag of peas in there,” he said to me without even a glance in my direction. Confused for a moment about what he wanted, I grabbed the bags, starting to search for the elusive bag of peas. Ah, there were the little green suckers.

The bag felt cool in my hand as I held it out to Dean, still wondering what his deal was with the frozen peas. “Not for me, honey. Hold them on your eyes.” He turned to me. “It’ll help, trust me.”

I was getting cry-face advice from my boss. Heaven help me, he was being so nice to me. I was sure he had my best interests at heart, so I ignored the offended demon that wanted to rise up out of me and give him shit. And hey, who knew? Maybe frozen peas had been the puffy eye cure for hundreds of years.

What did I have to lose? My dignity? My pride? Nope. Too late. Those were already gone. So I decided to lie back, holding a bag of generic peas to my eyes.

Just as I began to get comfortable, Dean switched the radio to a country station. It wasn’t normally my style, but for some reason, I found hearing about lost love and found love soothing to my shattered soul.

“Vivienne, honey, wake up,” I heard from somewhere far away. I ignored it, trying to dive back into my dream. “Vivienne,” someone barked, shaking my knee. I reluctantly gave in and sat up.

A soggy bag of previously frozen peas dumped onto my lap. I shrieked, “Ah, shit!”

I looked over to see Dean chuckling beside me. Pompous jerk. “I didn’t want you to completely freeze your eyeballs,” he said, checking me over with a grin on his face. He reached over, tipping up my chin with his index finger. “Much better,” he said, then pointed to the other bags on the seat between us. “There are some creams and shit in there. Take a look.” He turned up the music and put his hand back on the steering wheel.

Creams and shit. My curiosity was piqued, so like a stupid idiot, I peered inside the bag. There were roughly half a dozen anti-eye-puffing creams and a bottle of eye drops. Genius. “I didn’t know what kind you buy, so I bought what was there.”

I didn’t know whether I should be grateful or irritated. There were no more options left for me. The man offered me hope in a bottle, which always helped. It might not be visible to the human eye, but it always worked in your mind and your heart. That was what mattered. Picking the one that looked like the best fit for my skin, I opened it and began applying.

Not sure if it was the nap, the peas, the friendship, or the anti-puff cream, but I was starting to feel more like myself.

I had to admit, Dean knew his beauty products, because by the time we got to the meeting, my cry-face was nearly cured. Nary a soul would have known that I spent the entire night bawling my face off.

The meeting went well, thanks to Dean. He stepped in and our clients were extremely impressed that the big boss had taken the time to drive all the way down there to speak exclusively to them.

To say I was relieved I hadn’t cost him a client would be an understatement. I was overwhelmed by Dean’s help, I’d dropped the ball. “I’m sorry about today, Dean. I really screwed up and almost cost you the Lang deal. It’ll never happen again, I promise,” I told him in as confident a voice as I could muster up. My stomach twisted knowing that I’d disappointed him.

He looked at me, but didn’t answer. Instead, he just kept on driving. A few minutes later, he stopped in front of a store I knew well.

“You goin’ in or what?” Dean asked, his hands still on the steering wheel.

I gazed up at the pink and blue sign, grinning. “I guess. You coming with me?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“Can’t do that.” He stared at me with a somber expression. “But if you need help carrying shit, text me.”

“Pfft, as if I’ll need help carrying stuff,” I said jokingly, although we both knew I totally would.

“Can I help you with anything?” the sales associate inquired while I was browsing through the sweetest little onesies ever.

“Do these come in newborn sizes as well?”

She smiled, touching my arm briefly. “Come to the back. We have an entire newborn section you’ll love.”

I followed her down the aisle. She turned a bit toward me. “How far along are you?”

“Uhh, umm, a couple of months.”

“You’re smart to prepare early. Before you know it, your little one will be here. Let me tell you, your lives will never be the same again.”

My eyes welled up, just thinking of bringing a baby home.

“Aw, the hormones are the worst part, aren’t they?” She gave me a quick, unexpected hug. “Don’t worry, every new mom that walks through the door ends up crying at some point in here.” I pushed away, blinking the tears away. “It’s a wonderful thing, bringing a new life into the world. Nothing like it. I’ve done it five times. Each one is just as amazing as the last.”

I thanked her before taking some big breaths to get under control.

“Did you leave anything in the store?” Dean asked, one eyebrow raised when he saw my haul.

“One or two things,” I answered dryly.

He grabbed my bags from me. “Anything else?”

I stared at him, unmoving. The man knew me too well. “Maybe.”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“There was a sale, so I thought since you had the truck here, I might as well take advantage.”

After he packed up and strapped in my wares in the back of his truck, we stopped at a place called Nelly’s just outside of town. The sign was retro, flashing in bright green and orange. The building itself was painted a matching lime green. Eye-catching, I guess, especially for hungry travelers on the highway.

By that point, I was far from picky. It had been so long since I’d eaten, I was pretty sure my stomach had digested itself. Just in case it hadn’t, though, I’d try the pie. Maybe a burger. And a milkshake.

Dean grabbed my hand as I rounded the truck, pulling me into his body. His arm moved over my shoulders, and that was how we walked into the diner. It felt good, like he was holding me up, telling me with his body language that everything was going to be okay.

Even though it wasn’t.