Nora: Did you see her today?

Me: No.

Nora: You didn't even say hi to her??

Me: No, I didn't.

Nora: You're an idiot.

Me: She wasn't at work, Nora.

Nora: I still think you're an idiot.

Me: Thank you.

Nora: Well, someone needs to tell you.

Juniper wasn't there when I went into the office yesterday, Monday, like she said she would be the day she left my house, and my mind started racing. I tried not to pay much attention to it at first, but by noon, when she still hadn't appeared at her desk, I started to worry. I considered texting her just to check if everything was okay.

What if something happened during their drive back? Or maybe she caught a cold from the change in weather? Or maybe she decided to quit because couldn't bear the thought of having to see me in the office again?

Whatever the reason, I no longer have the right to know, I remind myself firmly, especially after our conversation the other day. I made sure of that when I dismissed her as nothing more than a hookup.

I tried to make it quick that day with Juniper. I didn't want to prolong it. When she brought up our agreement, I panicked. I didn't want to hear that it meant nothing to her. And so I spoke up before she could say more. Everything was fine until I decided to look at her at the last second and I saw her expression before she turned and ran towards the gate. That's when I realized I might have been wrong.

Maybe Nora had heard incorrectly. Maybe that wasn't really how she felt. Maybe I spoke too soon, and if I had allowed her to tell me what she was going to say, things might be different. These are the questions that have been plaguing me for the last week, all these 'maybes' swirling through my head.

I grab the article I'm supposed to be editing and a red pen from my desk, attempting to distract myself, but it's no use. If anything, it just makes things worse. All I can think about is Juniper—her book, if she is going to like writing articles again, whether she contacted Emilia, and submitted her book over to her. If it was strange for her to talk with my ex.

The article does absolutely nothing to drown out the thoughts bouncing around in my head. So I abandon it, tossing it back onto my desk. I open up my emails to work on them instead, turning up the volume on my Spotify playlists, hoping the music will drown out my thoughts. But, it proves futile because all I can see is Juniper's face at the moment she left—her eyes slightly glossed over and the forced smile she gave me.

Oh god. Nora is right, isn't she? I am an idiot.

What have I done? What have I done? What the hell have I done, you fucking idiot?

I fucked up.

"I fucked up," I whisper.

Shit, shit, shit.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't fucking handle and figure out my feelings as a 27-year-old man, and it's going to cause me to lose her. I should have sucked it up and told her how I felt. Because of this uncertainty, the not knowing what she was going to say that day—her face scrunched with sadness—has now compounded everything, making it all so much worse.

I feel a nudge from behind, startling me. Quickly, I turn and pop out my AirPods.

"Daily stand-up's about to start. You coming?" Lindsey from Obituaries, my desk cubicle neighbor, asks.

"Oh, um, yeah," I respond, clearing my throat, I stand up and adjust the collar of my shirt. Lindsey, as she always does, waits for me. I grab my phone and push in my chair, and we begin walking together toward the conference room.

"It's nice to have you back in the office," she says, looking up at me as she tucks a piece of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "How was the lake?"

"Yeah, it was good," I reply, my eyes scanning over the office to Juniper's desk. She's still not there, her monitor off, and the stack of paper on her desk untouched.

"I heard that Juniper Jenkins was there too, not that you'd really care. I don't know why you both don't like each other," Lindsey comments. I look back down at her, taking in her tan plaid blazer with a simple white blouse underneath. It only makes me wonder what Juniper would be wearing right now—something bright with stripes. Something with flowers and daisies, I bet. "Did you happen to see her there?" She adds.

"Uh, yeah," I respond, glancing away and nodding my head. "Um, yeah, I did."

"I thought I was going to have to write an obituary for the both of you when we found out you guys were going to be at the same lake for the summer," she jokes, chuckling, looking back up at me. "Thought you guys would have killed each other having to be in the same small town for two months. Mark and I were taking bets on who would murder who first."

I huff out a laugh, attempting to make it seem like I don't care, but I'm not sure it's coming off that way based on the way she narrows her eyes at me and tilts her head slightly.

"Anyways, her articles have gotten better over the last month. Have you noticed?" she says as I swing open the glass door to the conference room.

A smile tugs on my lips. "I can't say that I have," I reply as we navigate to the side of the conference room, finding our place at the back.

She hums thoughtfully as I sweep my gaze across the room for Juniper, eventually landing back on Lindsey, who's studying my face intently.

"What?" I ask.

"Something's different with you," she observes.

"Nothing's different with me."

Her eyes narrow slightly, and I respond with a dismissive glance.

"How's wedding planning going?" I ask, hoping to steer the conversation. She recently got engaged at the end of spring, and if there's anything that can divert her attention, it's wedding details and her fiancé.

"Oh my god! So good! We finally got our wedding venue booked—" she begins.

"Juniper," a voice calls from across the room, and immediately, my head swivels to find her, completely forgetting my conversation with Lindsey. She's opening the glass door, walking in the direction of James. Dressed in head-to-toe shades of dusty, muted green—wide-legged pants, a thick knitted sweater, and a long jacket over top—it used to irritate me, her style, but now, I love it. She looks fucking stunning.

"Interesting," Lindsey's voice chimes in from beside me, but my gaze remains fixed on Juniper. She doesn't even glance in my direction, fully concentrated on pulling out her laptop and whatever James is briefing her on.

And he's a little too close to her for my liking. I feel an urge to walk over there, but I force myself to stay put, shifting my weight to resist the impulse.

"You do know she has a boyfriend, right?" Lindsey interjects, redirecting my attention back to her.

"Had," I correct her, glancing back across the room at Juniper, who still doesn't seem to care to lift her head towards me.

"Hmm?" Lindsey hums.

"She had a boyfriend."

She lifts her gaze slowly, a smirk forming on her face. "And how do you know that?" she asks.

A loud clap echoes at the end of the conference table, instantly silencing the room as everyone turns their attention to Andrew Mitchel, the editor and chief, initiating the daily stand-up meeting. I make an effort to concentrate, but my eyes and thoughts continuously gravitate toward Juniper, who remains entirely absorbed in the meeting.

It's only when Andrew addresses Mark from sports, who stands just next to me, does she finally look up in my direction and our eyes meet. Her honey-brown eyes locking with mine, but it's so brief that by the time I blink, Juniper's gaze has already shifted to Mark as he talks sports. I suspect she's making a point not to look at me.

My hands clench at my sides. We're in the same room, but I still miss her so much. That brief moment of broken eye contact sends a sharp ache spiraling through my chest.

I really did fucking mess up. She can't even bring herself to look at me.

I don't have a plan. For once in my fucking life, I'm clueless about how to proceed. I messed up, and I have to, at the very least, tell her how I feel, even if she doesn't feel the same. As soon as Andrew concludes the daily stand-up, I know I have to talk to her. I know I have to get to her and explain things.

I watch her start gathering her belongings as Andrew begins wrapping up the meeting, and the instant it concludes, she makes a beeline for the doors. My impulse is to run after her, to chase her down. Kiss her, tell her I love her. Beg her to take me back. But with the twenty people between us, by the time I navigate through the crowd and exit the conference room, she's disappeared.

Notes

How do we feel about Wells' POV? Do we forgive him?

With only five more chapters left (yes, I added two) plus an epilogue, I'm nearly finished writing offline 🙈. Would you prefer all the chapters at once, or should I sprinkle them throughout the week?