Loving the Ladies’ Man by Kristin Canary

Chapter 16

Lisa blinks at me from across her desk. “Are you absolutely certain about this, Evie?”

“Y-yes.” I attempt a smile despite the ache of doubt pounding behind my temples.

Because Connor barely texted me all weekend. When I asked him if we could talk, he made up excuses—even when I told him it was important.

It’s like he’s ghosting me.

But it just doesn’t make sense, not with what he said at Sunset Cliffs (“I’m falling in love with you, Evie Denmark”). What he said at his family reunion (“I’m not going anywhere”).

Things don’t change that quickly.

Unless he didn’t mean all of that in the first place.

My boss looks on, lips in a flat line, probably not unaware of my internal struggle since I’m terrible at hiding my feelings. I wanted to wait until I had talked with Connor before giving Lisa my answer, but she caught me on the way into my office at seven fifty-three.

“May I ask why you’re turning down this opportunity?” Even though the woman is petite, she’s intimidating as heck right now, with her red power suit and coiffed hair that she clearly just got re-highlighted.

Me, on the other hand? I spent the weekend with Mr. Darcy—all six hours of him—and have puffy eyes for days. And I’m pretty sure I gained five pounds from all the Ben & Jerry’s I ate sitting on my bed and watching my laptop like a sad little Eeyore. “I just really like editing.”

Pretty sure Lisa can see right through me as she presses her lips together. “I’m disappointed, but it’s your decision.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course.”

I make my way to her door when she stops me. “Evie?”

“Yes?”

“If you see Connor this morning, would you let him know I need to speak with him?” Her voice is crisp, issuing a clear challenge.

The veins in my head pump harder, shooting pain through my whole body. “Sure.”

She’s going to offer him the job. I need to talk to him before that happens.

Hauling butt down the hallway, I peek in Connor’s office. He’s not there, but his jacket hangs on the back of his chair so I know he’s here somewhere.

I hear voices coming from the break room. Of course. He’s probably dropping off his lunch in the fridge, getting some coffee, maybe picking up a box of Reese’s Pieces from the vending machine. My low heels carry me to the kitchen area, where our love story kind of began. The windows are all repaired now, and there’s no trace of the blood from my feet, no broken glass.

But there is Connor, chatting with June—back off, lady, he’s mine!—and they’re chuckling about something as she pours coffee into the mug he’s holding. When she sees me, she frowns and scampers off.

It’s just him and me, alone at last. “Hey.” I move forward, praying we aren’t interrupted again. “Can we talk?” I point to the farthest table in the break room, the one by the window where a tree branch nearly impaled me three months ago (yes, I’m exaggerating, but I’m on edge, okay?).

He seems to weigh the decision as he takes a sip of his brew. “I have a few minutes, yeah.” We settle into the hard plastic chairs and he sets his mug on the laminate tabletop. “What’s up?”

I breathe in the sight of him—the bloodshot eyes, the unshaven jaw, the tie that’s hanging slightly askew—and my heart breaks for him. “You okay?”

“Fine.” He grips the mug handle so hard I wonder if it’s going to shatter. “What did you want to discuss?”

Seriously? “What’s with the tone? Just because you’re mad at your dad and disappointed about your agent rejections doesn’t mean you should take it out on your girlfriend.”

Please let those be the reasons he’s acting this way.

He has the decency to wince before sneaking his hand into mine underneath the table. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been a jerk.”

“I’m here for you.”

His lips wear a ghost of a smile. “I know.” He squeezes. “So what did you want to talk about?”

This is it. I pray the news that I got the job won’t hurt his ego too much. “Lisa offered me the associate publisher position.”

His hold on my hand loosens, but he keeps holding on. “Oh, yeah? That’s huge.” He looks away, clears his throat. “I’m happy for you.”

Yeah, about as happy as Georgiana Darcy when she finds out Wickham’s true intentions. “Here’s the thing. Lisa told me that she changed her mind about the reporting structure. Both the editorial and marketing department heads will be reporting to the associate publisher.”

Connor’s head jerks back and his hand slips out of mine completely. “So, you’re my new boss?”

The vending machine hums in the corner.

“No.”

His nose crinkles. “I don’t understand.”

“I turned it down, Connor.”

“What? Why?”

Doesn’t he understand? “Because you know the rules as well as I do. Bosses can’t date their subordinates.”

Connor stares into his mug. And when he finally looks up at me, I don’t recognize the coolness in his eyes.

Actually, I do. It’s the way he used to regard me—before.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Evie.” He pauses. “I wouldn’t have.”

My stomach clenches and my migraine nearly has me losing my breakfast. “W-what?”

And of course, it’s at that exact moment that Lisa walks into the break room. I swipe at my cheeks, which I suddenly realize are wet.

“Connor, a word?” she says.

“Yep.” Grabbing his coffee, he pushes away from the table and leaves with Lisa.

And I just sit there, head in my hands, shaking, for I don’t know how long.

Eventually, two members of the marketing team filter into the room seeking a coffee fix. “I wonder who they’ll promote to marketing director now that Connor’s the associate publisher.”

The words stoke a fire over the coals in my head. I want to scream. Instead, I stand on shaky legs and make my way to Connor’s office, where two of his employees are chatting with him in excited tones about his promotion. Their backs are to me but I can hear every word.

One flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Drinks at the Den this afternoon, right?”

“Ooo, yes! We have to do that.” The other, a redhead, swivels her tiny waist and claps like she’s a cheerleader in a high school movie.

“I’m not sure I’ll have time. There’s a lot to do here.”

But the women simper and cajole until he concedes. “All right, if that’s what the team wants to do.”

“Congratulations.” The word croaks from my throat, and all three of them spin to find me there.

“Thanks, Evie.” He ducks his head. “Jess, Monique, I need to talk with Evie for a minute. Do you guys mind?”

They shake their heads and leave.

And I just stand there, arms crossed over my chest, staring at the man I love. “Well?”

“Come on, Evie.” Connor leans back against his cluttered desk. “You didn’t want the job. You’re happier as an editor, anyway.”

“I don’t care about the job. What about us? We can’t be together if one of us is the boss. That’s why I turned it down.”

He toes at something invisible on the ground. “Proving once again that you are too good for me. It was a pipe dream, you and me, and it’s better we realize it now.”

I don’t accept that excuse. “You said you were falling in love with me.”

“Well, I say a lot of things, don’t I? Isn’t that who I am? The sleazy salesman who will say whatever it takes to get what I want.”

He doesn’t mean it. He can’t mean it. “Then what about what you told your dad? That your real dream is to be a full-time author someday? Are you also giving up on that completely?”

“Someday is for fools.” His cheeks pale, Connor runs his fingers down the length of his tie. “Grams was right. Life isn’t fair and it’s time I learned that. My only regret is that I led you on. For that, I really am sorry.”

But he doesn’t look sorry. The mask he’s wearing is like stone, like if I took a chisel to it, it would break into a thousand pieces. “Why are you doing this?” My voice trembles and I wish for once that I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve.

Because it breaks too easily that way.

“You want too much from me. For me to be something I’m not.”

“No, I don’t.” I take a step toward him. “Unlike your dad, I just want you—who you really are, not this veneer you’re putting on.”

“The man you think I am, he’s not real, even if we both wanted him to be. He’s a lie. You’re just too naive to realize it.”

His words are a knife in my chest. He knows—knows!—my insecurity, how afraid I am to trust in the wrong person.

And he’s using it against me.

Which means, in fact, that I have trusted the wrong person.

Again.

At the very least, I’ve given my heart to someone who doesn’t really want it. Who doesn’t love me as much as I love him.

Again.

When will I learn? And maybe that’s the point. I won’t.

I can’t.

I trust blindly and I love bigger than I should and I’m blinded by this preconceived notion that everyone has good in them—if only someone would believe in them.

But I’m wrong. So very wrong.

Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin. “You’re right. I was an idiot to think you could ever be anything but a selfish ladies’ man.”

Then, ignoring his grimace, I turn on my heel and leave.

* * *

Ican’t be Connor’s underling. Not anymore.

One week of that nonsense has been more than enough.

Staring at my computer screen, I scroll through the editorial job listings. There are several proofreader, news editor, and copywriting positions based in Des Moines, but that’s still a few hours away from where my parents live. If I’m going to move home, I’d like to be close enough to lend a hand with the farm chores.

But beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.

I close the laptop lid and rub my dry eyes. I’ve been in here for hours while my roomies hang out together in the common spaces on their day off from work. They’re headed out to a Memorial Day BBQ on the beach soon and I know they’ll try to drag me along. Kayla especially thinks it will be good for me, to get out of my head, to forget for a little while.

Doesn’t she realize I can’t forget? That I thought Connor was it for me? My Mr. Darcy?

And now, he’s acting as if I’m just another employee. Interestingly, he’s no longer a flirt. He’s all seriousness and brooding frowns, and even when women throw themselves at him, he’s cold. Professional.

It’s like all the light has gone out of his eyes. I wish I could shake him enough to get it back. But anytime I went near him this week, he drew back like he expected an assault (or at least a verbal one).

I thought the breakup with David was bad, but having to work with Connor—for Connor?

It’s so much worse.

Sighing, I finally climb off my bed, stretching my sore leg muscles before venturing into the hallway. I can hear the TV blaring and my friends’ laughter from the living room, and I just can’t do it.

I need fresh air.

So I go back to my room, tug on my tennis shoes, grab my phone and keys, and sneak out through the garage door so I don’t have to say no to Kayla when she inevitably asks to tag along.

There’s a slight breeze as I exit the garage and head down the sidewalk. I nod hello to a few neighbors who are walking dogs and strolling by with kiddos, everyone enjoying some of the best weather California has to offer. The morning haze had burned off, leaving a gorgeous azure sky without a single cloud.

My phone rings from my back pocket. I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, but a really stupid part of me wonders if it’s Connor.

But it’s Mom. She’s been calling every day to check on me, and she’ll only call back if I don’t answer now.

“Hey, Mom.”

“How’s my girl today?” And before I can answer, she’s launching into a diatribe about the cows and what a handful they are but how she loves them so. I know she’s only trying to perk me up, make me laugh, but I just don’t have it in me today.

Besides, I need to tell her about my decision. The one I made last night, after yet another sleepless night. I know two a.m. probably isn’t the wisest time to make life-altering decisions, but really I’m just doing what I promised my parents I’d do ten years ago. This is the very antithesis of a last-minute decision. “I’m coming home, Mom.” I sidestep an older couple that’s taking a leisurely walk, holding hands. “As soon as I find a job in Iowa, I’m moving home.”

“You really don’t have to do that. Your dad and I are fine.”

“But I want to.”

Mom is silent for a bit as I wander the streets of my neighborhood. Before I understand where I am, I stop in front of the bungalow—the one Kayla told me was for sale more than three months ago.

Somehow, it’s still on the market.

My heart leaps, but only momentarily. Because this place—the bungalow, California, Connor’s arms—are not for me. Not anymore.

Iowa is calling my name. It’s been calling my name for years, and I’m finally yielding to it.

“Evie.”

“Yeah?”

There’s a heavy huffing on the other line. “The worst thing that’s ever happened to me is losing your sister.”

My stomach crumples and I can’t hold myself upright anymore. I sit on the edge of the sidewalk in front of my bungalow.

No. Not mine.

“Me too, Mom.”

“I know, sweetheart.” A pause. “But any clue what the second worst thing is?”

“Dad’s heart attack?”

“Losing you.”

“I’m sorry I left Iowa.” A row of ants scampers along the warm white concrete at my feet, just beside the asphalt. I don’t know if they’re coming or going, but at least they have a destination. A solid purpose. I’ll have that again soon. “But I’m coming back just as soon as I can find a job.”

“I’m not talking about you moving to California.”

Huh? “What then?”

The air seems to tighten between us, a band that reaches out through the phone and grabs hold of my lungs, anchoring Mom and me together. “Before the accident, you were such a happy-go-lucky child. So friendly to everyone, always chattering like a little blue jay, always spreading cheer. But when Janelle died, you lost your song. You turned inward and lost your ability to trust other people unconditionally.”

I swallow as I use my foot to nudge a discarded chunk of bread into the path of the incoming ants. “Not all people.”

“True. Men, then.”

“Not Daddy.”

“You know what I mean.”

The lead ant grapples with the food, which must be a few hundred times its size, until a few more join in the struggle. Together, they lift the burden and work their way back to their little hill.

“It’s not really the men I don’t trust. It’s myself.”

“Aw, honey. You cannot let a couple bad apples ruin the whole batch. Just because a few sorry excuses for human beings took advantage of your generous spirit—your loving heart—doesn’t mean you need to change.”

I let that simmer for a moment before voicing my thoughts. “There’s something wrong with me, Mom. Apparently I wasn’t born equipped with bad-guy radar. I can’t tell the difference between heartfelt words and those meant to charm me so others get what they want. And the result? I get hurt—or someone else does.”

“I’ve told you a million times and I will tell you till I’m blue in the face, but Janelle’s death was not your fault.” Mom sighs. “I wish I could take away the hurt, baby. All I know is that you are beautiful and kind, and you have every reason to be confident in who you are. We all make mistakes, sure, and for better or worse, we learn lessons from our experiences. But sometimes those lessons are lies straight from the pit.”

I push a hot tear from my cheek. “I don’t know what’s a lie and what’s the truth right now.”

“Love is always the truth, sweetie. Getting hurt is hard, but even harder would be a life without love.”

And why does my stupid brain still think of Connor when I hear the word love? I press a hand against my heart. “He doesn’t love me, Mom. And I can’t …” I inhale a trembling breath. “I can’t stay here and be his direct report and see him day in and day out. Just one week has nearly killed me.”

“I didn’t raise you to be a quitter, Evie Denmark.” Mom’s voice softens. “And before you go quitting the job you love and running away to Iowa, think about what you want. Not what Dad and I want you to do. Not what your boss wants you to do. Not what Kayla wants you to do. What do you want?”

“I want to rewind the past few weeks to before I got offered the promotion. Before Connor’s family reunion. Maybe even before we got together.” Standing, I dust off the bits of sand from the backs of my legs. “I just want to be happy.”

“Well, the first thing is impossible unless you’ve discovered time travel. But I think the second is very much within your abilities, if only you’ll let your heart guide you. Trust yourself, Evie. Pray, ask for wisdom from those you love, sure—but ultimately, you’re the one who has to live your life. Happiness is not a place. It doesn’t happen to you. It’s a state of mind, a choice. So choose happiness, my dear girl.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

After a round of I-love-yous, we hang up. Then, with her words playing on a loop in my head, I let the midday sun warm my bare arms and pivot slowly on my heel until I’m facing the bungalow again.

Choose happiness …

I can’t choose how others react to the love and care I show. I can only choose my own actions. And I don’t want to hold back who I am. I don’t want to be the kind of person who acts from a place of fear.

Not anymore.

And even though it scares me, I know what I need to do.

After pulling my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, I type out a text to Connor.

You once called me your truth teller, so here are some truths:

You are no longer the kind of man who chases women. You’re a one-woman man who made me feel more beautiful, more cherished, than anyone has ever made me feel in my life.

And whatever you say, I know it wasn’t a lie.

You are not chasing foolish dreams. You are building a solid future one brick, one story, at a time. Even if you never succeed at being an author (and I know you will), no one should mock you for going after something with all your heart.

I should know, because I’ve been stopping myself from fully giving my heart—I just didn’t know it.

And yes, I did give my heart to you, but some part of me held back out of fear.

Here’s that part: I love you, Connor Bryant.

And I’m not ashamed that I gave you my heart, because even if we can’t be together, I know I gave my heart to a good man who was more than enough for me just as he was.

That being said, because I love you, I have to resign from my position at Evermore. And not so we can be together, but so I can move on.

Consider this my resignation, although I’ll write a more formal one tomorrow.

I wish you all the best in your new job and in whatever you choose to do. Run hard after what you want, because you deserve it.

After all, you have quite the pulchritudinous soul. :)

All my love,

“Webster”

After a quick read through, I press Send and hurry back to my room, climb on my bed, open my laptop, and change the location on the job search website from Iowa to San Diego.