~ Cece

 

One week later

I knew it was a waste of money to stay in my hotel, but I’d be damned if I was staying in my apartment. Jeb was sniffing around it like a dog - only his bone would, no doubt, be the incredible gratification that came with knowing that he had been right.

I had done something I regretted.

Though I had never liked going to the office, it was a nice change of pace from the blasé decor of the hotel I was staying in. I wasn’t about to put in for the Ritz Carlton, and so a Motel Six close to downtown had to work. I was pretty sure they never did housekeeping, and the heat in my room was broken, but at least it offered some solitude.

At work, I was faced with every woman demanding to know what it had been like to spend time with the great and powerful Rhett Wilder.

The answer was a fucking doozy, so I didn’t even bother. Instead, I sequestered myself in my cubicle and began to write.

What I told Rhett wasn’t a lie - I had never intended to publish anything from the notebook he found in the trash. If I’d been smarter, I would have hidden it away somewhere. When I was a teenager, I was smart enough to hide my journals, but adult me didn’t feel the need for such precautions.

And look where it got me.

Even a week after I left the penthouse, I kept seeing his face. Rhett had never looked at me with such raw pain in his eyes - like I had ripped his heart out right through his ribcage. He was convinced that I was planned to use what I’d written to further myself, and I supposed I couldn’t blame him. Once upon a time, he would have been right. A few weeks ago, I would have given anything to leave the ranks of The Burner - even if it meant pulling a trick as dirty as exposing Rhett’s secrets to the world.

But things changed. I had changed. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late.

I’d never been the crying type. When I was little, my Mom used to tell me that my tears were liquid bravery and I needed them to hold myself together. Now, even as an adult, the sentiment remained. I knew that if I started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and that would get me utterly nowhere. I had a tremendous task in front of me, and breaking down would do it no service.

For a week, I interacted as little with my coworkers as I possibly could. I ignored the phone every time Jeb called, ultimately turning it off when it seemed to buzz constantly. I did my best not to remember how right my last night in Rhett’s arms had been.

That was lost to me forever, thanks to my own selfishness.

Though I still had every intention of trashing the notebook I’d written, I used parts of it to compose a new article - one that I could only hope would satisfy Jim’s thirst for blood. He went prowling past my cube every thirty minutes and I knew he was itching to find out what happened between Rhett and me.

I had every intention of telling him.

Even though I thought I was an old hand at writing nonsense articles on love and advice, my latest piece was one of the most difficult I had ever attempted. I couldn’t remember the last time I spent a whole week on one piece - that I had guarded it so jealously, reviewed and edited it myself, and poured over it for hours before I finally released it to my boss.

Though the prospect of anyone reading what I had written terrified me, it was the only thing I could think to do. If this piece was going to lose me the man I loved, I might as well do it right.

Love.

I had never realized how fickle the term was. Maybe a few days of running on coffee and Redbull had me philosophical, but I couldn’t help but muse over the strange turn my life had taken. Drumming my fingers on the surface of my desk, I scanned back through the article I had so painstakingly written. I knew that Jim must have nearly pissed himself when it showed up in his inbox.

Now all I had to do was wait for the inevitable.

Within the hour, the phone atop my desk rang. I picked it up almost immediately. “Warner.”

“Cecily, get in my office.” Jim sounded far from pleased.

“Right. Coming.” Rising from my chair, I let my eyes slipped closed as I took a deep, steadying breath. I couldn’t think about Rhett during this confrontation. I had enough trouble keeping my composure as it was. I wouldn’t think of his touch, his kiss...or how I’d hurt him.

Just like his parents hurt him. Like the fosters hurt him.

I swallowed the lump of grief that rose in my throat. There would be time to cry later. Once I took care of my business and everything was squared away, I’d allow myself the luxury of tears. But not here. Not now.

I left my cubicle to take the long walk of shame down to Jim’s office and confront the man sitting inside. The moment I opened the door, I was met with the older man’s intense frown. He was holding a printout of my article in front of him and a long beat passed before he said anything at all. When he did, the disappointment in his tone was palpable.

“You have to know this isn’t what I asked for, Cece.”

Exhaling hotly, I closed the door behind me before dropping into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I wanted to write something I thought readers would learn from. A cautionary tale.”

Jim eyed me over the top of the papers that separated us, his expression annoyed. “You wrote a goddamned romance novel. What the hell am I supposed to do with this? It’s too long. Too convoluted and too…” He gestured absently as he searched for a word to articulate himself.

“Mushy?” I tried lamely, crossing my arms over my chest as my own agitation reared its ugly head.

“Exactly.” He snapped his fingers acquiescing almost immediately before he shook his head slowly. “All the resources I give you, and this is what you come up with? Our readers don’t want cautionary tales about naive little girls falling in love, Cece. They want the three S’s.” He ticked them off on a hand as I rolled my eyes. “Sex, scandal and splendor. That’s what we’re here for.”

I suppressed the caustic retort that rose to my lips. It had been a trial to keep from giving Jim a piece of my mind for the last six years - but if I could last that long, I could certainly last a few more minutes. “Alright, so you don’t want it.” I held out a hand to reclaim the material, but, to my surprise, Jim merely tugged it from my grasp.

“I didn’t say we couldn’t use it. It does deal with Wilder so I’m sure we can find some use for it.” Jim tried to make it sound like he was accepting my article from the goodness of his own black heart, but I saw through the routine instantly. No one had ever tried to publish something like what I’d written in The Burner. It was controversial, yes, but it could also be huge if it got to the right audience.

And that was what Jim was counting on. “What we don’t really have use for is a writer that can’t take risks.”

Almost immediately, I straightened. I knew this was coming. It had only been a matter of time. “Cece, I’m sorry to say this, but this article was meant to be a test of sorts. I know you’ve been trying, but I don’t think you really fit in here.” If Jim was trying to seem fatherly, he was failing miserably. It was difficult to see a middle-aged man who made his living off celebrity gossip as anything but pitiable. “You don’t want to get your hands dirty. You don’t have the drive to climb up the ranks. Considering all that...I think we’re going to have to let you go.”

A year ago, the statement would have shocked and dismayed me. Hell, six weeks ago, it probably would have sent me into a panic. Now, I merely smiled at Jim across his desk.

“You’re firing me. You’re taking my article,” I summarized succinctly, “And you’re firing me.”

“I’m sorry, Cecily,” Jim repeated, without sounding apologetic at all, “But I think you’ll have better luck elsewhere.”

For a long moment, I merely stared at him. Then I gazed over the office I had dreaded coming into every day for the past six years of my life. My mother had always told me to be grateful for what I had, but I could never really be grateful for The Burner. The only good thing Jim’s publication had ever done for me was bring Rhett back into my life.

Then I’d gone and messed that up myself.

“Well, Jim, I have to admit, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.” As I rose from my chair, my former boss looked at me as if I’d just sprouted feet from either side of my head.

“Excuse me?”

“Now that I’m no longer your employee, I can finally give you a piece of my mind. I’ll try to be brief.” I held up a hand, ticking off my insults much like he had lectured me on my writing. “You’re conceited. You’re insufferable and selfish. You never give credit where it’s due and you run this publication like it’s your own private state - which is why I don’t think it has much of a future. If people really put that much stock in gossip, you wouldn’t need to commandeer my “romance novel” to publish on your hallowed pages. So, enjoy your reign while it lasts.”

I left the man staring at me, openmouthed, as I turned to leave his office for the last time. “Oh, and Jim?” I tossed my parting words over my shoulder, pausing in the doorway. “You didn’t fire me. I resigned this morning.”

I left the building in a daze. There weren’t many things to pack up at my desk, but while I did, I was immune to all the whispers that followed me. In many ways, Jim was right. I had never really belonged at The Burner. I lingered there, trying to be content with what I had, for far too long. As I stepped into the sunshine, realizing I would never have to go back, I smiled for the first time since leaving Rhett’s penthouse a week earlier. A wide, infectious grin claimed my entire face as an immense weight lifted off my shoulders.

It was almost as liberating as flying. Almost.

The high lasted me all the way back to the hotel and into the evening. Of course, I’d eventually have to face the music. I was now jobless, and journalism positions were hard to come by. I had some money saved up, but it wouldn’t last forever. First and foremost, this meant job hunting. It also probably meant a downgrade in apartment size and a substantial cut to my budget.

But none of that would kill me. What killed me was working in a place that suffocated my mind, body and spirit. Having escaped that, I was sure I could tackle anything.

Well...almost anything.

Ultimately, exhaustion took over and I was stuck my own thoughts. I had left The Burner, but my last article would still be published, meaning hundreds - possibly thousands of people would read it. They would realize how precious love could be, and how easy it was to let it slip away. Of course, most readers would focus on the steamy love affair with Rhett Wilder - but that wasn’t why I wrote it.

I wrote it as my last ode to the man I loved.

Once upon a time, I promised myself that I’d move on from Rhett - and I thought I had. When life unexpectedly thrust me back into his life, however, I realized that he was still the only man who ever really held my heart.

Losing that hurt. It hurt even more than watching his car drive away from my neighborhood when I was fourteen, naive, and infatuated.

I told myself that I wouldn’t cry. Crying never really helped anyone. But when I stepped into the shower, the moisture on my face didn’t come from the spray. I sank to the cold tile floor, curling into a ball, and finally, finally allowed myself to give into grief. I knew if I didn’t, I’d never heal.

And I already had a long journey ahead of me.

 

I went home early the next day. If Jeb thought he’d surprise me by camping out on my doorstep, he was sorely mistaken. The sight of him sitting there did little more than give me slight pause before I emitted a long sigh. “How long have you been here?”

Jeb immediately leapt to his feet and, to my surprise, pulled me into a tight hug. “Jesus, Cece! Where have you been? I was all over town looking for you. I was about to call the police!”

For a moment, I was sure my brother was just being an alarmist. He’d always tended towards theatrics when they were least needed. But then, I saw the real worry on his face and my expression softened. “Jeb, I’m fine, ok? I just needed a few days to think.”

“You said you’d call me. Then five days go by without a call? What the hell was I supposed to think?”

I supposed he had a point. I had pretty much just dropped off the surface of the earth. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Jeb cupped my face firmly, turning it this way and that. “Were you with him?”

The thunderous look on his face might have been threatening under any other circumstances, but, as Rhett was no longer in the equation, all I could do was laugh hollowly. “No. Not with him.”

Jeb breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Just...come inside. Let’s sit down.” He chanced a small smile. “It’s been forever since we caught up.”

I should have been mad at him. Even with everything that had happened, Jeb was still here, uninvited. Still trying to lord over my life. But I found that, in that moment, I wasn’t so anxious to be alone. Being alone meant remembering what I’d given up with Rhett.

And how I’d never see him again.