Cree

---

The night before had been difficult, one where I had tossed and turned. The next morning, as I drove into the office, my trusty coffee mug in the cup holder, some inane radio DJ chattering in the background, I still hadn’t been able to turn my thoughts from Aaron.

The blue sky reminded me of how beautiful the vineyard had been. The cool breeze reminded me of the air brushing against my skin, the coolness such a contrast to the heat that Aaron had created.

I wanted to kick myself for those thoughts, knew that I was being childish, or even worse, acting lovesick.

But I was.

And everything I passed, every little thing, reminded me of Aaron, of that special time we had shared together.

As I sat in traffic, patient in a way that was quite unusual, I let my mind drift.

A whole new level of complication had been introduced to my life given that I could no longer deny my feelings for him. But at the same time, so much had been taken away.

The strain, the stress, the pressure that felt like it was never-ending was gone. And, at least when I wasn’t thinking about Aaron, I felt a clarity, a peace of mind that I welcomed.

I looked over at the bus that had pulled to a stop next to me, saw that it was advertising some exotic beach location.

I’d been on my own exotic trip not twenty-four hours ago, and as the bus drove away, my mind began to whirl.

I drove, my attention focused on navigating the morning traffic, but also on the thoughts that were gathering in the back of my brain.

By the time I reached the office, I could barely stay in my seat.

I got out of my car and practically bounded into my office, grateful I didn’t see anyone that might slow me.

I tossed my briefcase under my desk, and then headed to my destination, my impatience such that I couldn’t wait for the elevator and decided to use the stairs.

It occurred to me that I hadn’t even checked to see if Aaron was here, but I kept going, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the light on in his office.

I smiled, grateful for the opportunity to barge in on him as he so often did me.

“You’re in early—”

I cut off quickly when I saw that Aaron wasn’t alone.

“Yeah. I was just chatting with Brantley,” he said.

“Good morning, Cree,” Brantley, the head of the executive committee, said.

“Good morning. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh, no problem. Aaron just needed to pull me aside for a moment, but our business is done.”

He stood, shook Aaron’s hand, and then walked toward the door.

“You have a good day,” he said.

“You too,” I responded automatically.

I knew I probably sounded robotic, but I couldn’t shake the suspicion that was rising in my chest.

I looked at Aaron, hoping for some comfort, but I saw none. In fact, he looked guilty. I had never seen that expression on Aaron’s face before, but I saw it now, couldn’t deny it, or what it meant.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

He sounded sincere, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness that was coursing through me. Any excitement I’d had before had been completely dampened, but I tried to ignore that and instead focused on Aaron.

“No. I just had an idea I wanted to share with you,” I said.

“What is it?” he asked.

He seemed normal again, but I was haunted by the expression that had been on his face. I tried to tell myself that I was being suspicious, letting my old thoughts about him control what I was thinking now, but still, I couldn’t shake it.

I took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Is that something I need to be concerned about?” I asked.

I wasn’t sure why I was asking the question. Wait, that wasn’t true. I knew why I was asking the question. Brantley didn’t deign to talk to lowly associates, and though I knew that Aaron was so much more than that, something about seeing the two of them together, the guilt on Aaron’s face, the fact that the presentation was less than a week away, all of it left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

But I would toss that aside, chalk it up to my own paranoia if only Aaron gave me reason to.

“No,” he said. “There’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

His words rang as hollow as any I had ever heard.

In all of our clashes, the times we had butted heads before, the conversations we’d had as the nature of our relationship had morphed, in all of them, there had been one huge consistency. Aaron had been honest, honest to a fault some might say. He’d never lied to spare my feelings, and I didn’t think he would ever even consider doing such a thing.

But I knew that he was lying now, knew it with a clarity that was bone-deep, as crystal-clear and true as my feelings for him.

That knowledge hurt, did more than hurt.

“So what do you want to talk about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

He looked at me, suspicious. “Nothing?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I just had some thoughts about the proposal, nothing too serious,” I said.

“And you don’t want to share?” he asked.

I was quiet, considering what to say next, and then finally shook my head.

“It’s not really necessary,” I eventually responded.

Saying those words made my gut sink, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Something had definitely been off in that meeting, and I went with my gut and chose to keep my little realization from earlier to myself.

“Okay. You want to get together for lunch?” he asked.

I shook my head quickly.

“It’s going to be a busy day,” I said.

“But I’ll see you after work?” he asked, the hint of hopefulness in his voice almost enough to make me fold. But I squashed that feeling down.

“We’ll play it by ear,” I said.

He looked at me as though he wanted to argue, but then seemed to let it go. “Fine. But we should get together before the presentation.”

“We will,” I assured him.

I turned and left without saying anything else, my emotions so mixed that I was impressed I managed to remember the way back to my own office.

When I reached it, I closed the door, leaned against it with my eyes pressed shut, my mind whirling, but for an entirely different reason.

It seemed bizarre how things could change on a dime. Not ten minutes ago I had been on cloud nine, eager to share something exciting with the person I loved.

And now…

Now, I didn’t know. It was important to keep work separate from what was happening, and I knew that what happened here didn’t have anything to do with what happened outside of this place.

I had assumed it hadn’t.

But maybe I had been mistaken. Maybe all of this had just been an amusing diversion for him.

Or, maybe he had been doing as Daniel had suggested, either using me to get ahead, or not even bothering to do that because he didn’t need to.

That seemed like a more likely answer.

I had been almost certain that I had no shot, but as the weeks had passed and I had worked with Aaron, I had started to question that belief, wondered if maybe I was not giving him a fair shake.

But him meeting with Brantley, the lie he had told, they were both doing more than giving me pause.

I thought back, and then finally decided not to think anymore.

I still had my idea, and I would still go through with the proposal.

I hadn’t yet decided if I would share it with Aaron, but one thing I knew was that he was in this, and I might not have a shot.

---

Aaron

---

“Fuck,” I muttered two hours later.

I had just written the same sentence for the third time, and when I realized that, I gave up and pushed out of my chair and began to stalk around my office.

This morning had been a disaster.

A disaster of my own creation.

If only I had told her the truth…

I had wanted to, but for some reason when I had looked in her face I had told her that everything was fine.

It had been my intention, and still was my intention, to make that true.

When I’d sought Brantley out this morning, I’d told him I wasn’t interested in the competition and wouldn’t take the position if offered it. He’d given no reaction at all. He’d simply thanked me for keeping him in the loop and then gone on his way after Cree had shown up.

So there’d been nothing concrete from Brantley, but then there didn’t need to be. After just two minutes in his presence, I had seen that the decision about the competition was a foregone conclusion. It didn’t matter who did the work, who tried the hardest, or that I didn’t even want the damn thing, I knew there was almost no way that the promotion would go to anyone else but me.

In some ways it was ironic that that knowledge upset me as much as it did. A few weeks ago, I would have assumed that the decision was made and all things being equal, would have thought that was the right one. After all, it only made sense to try to use me for all I was worth.

But my perspective on that had changed because of her.

I stopped pacing my office long enough to pick up my phone handset and dial Cree before I could stop myself.

The phone went directly to voicemail.

That didn’t necessarily matter. I knew she was busy, knew there were probably a hundred explanations as to why she hadn’t answered, but none of them did anything to calm me, allay those fears that threatened to bubble up.

She hadn’t believed what I’d said.

I’d seen that on her face, and also knew that whatever reason she had sought me out she had changed her mind about.

Maybe she feared that she couldn’t trust me.

That certainly seemed to be the case, but even thinking that made me want to rebel.

She could trust me, and I would do everything I could to make sure she got her promotion, prove that I loved her.

I wouldn’t be in this situation if I had just told her that.

But then I remembered a lesson my father had instilled in my head, one of the few that had been worth sticking with.

It always said that a man was judged by his actions, not his words, and in this case, her judgment, what it meant for us going forward, mattered more than anything else ever had.

So I’d made a mistake by lying to her, but I would correct it, and not just with words.

I’d show her that she meant more to me than I could say. And hope that would be enough.