Loving the Ladies’ Man by Kristin Canary

Chapter 17

It’s my last day at Evermore.

My heart quakes as I step off the elevator, a few broken down empty boxes tucked under one arm and a Java Awakening latte in the other hand. The last two weeks, I’ve kept my head down, finished up projects, met with my team (who were surprisingly teary-eyed about my departure) to discuss their upcoming deadlines, and interviewed for my replacement (Kelly has actually stepped up to the plate in a major way and will do fabulously).

Other than a few days I’ve chosen to work from home, I’ve mostly stayed in my office, and Connor has stayed in his.

He hasn’t said a thing about the text I sent nearly two weeks ago. Maybe he didn’t even receive it.

Part of me wants to ask him. Get closure, you know? I stop just outside his office, but the light is off. Guess closure can wait.

I flip on the light in my office and step inside, inhaling. So this is what ten years of blood, sweat, tears, and laughter smell like—ink, paper, and old coffee in a mug I forgot to wash out yesterday.

The morning goes by quickly as I tape the boxes and start to take down everything I’ve accumulated in my office. Office mates stop in to wish me well, asking what I’ll be doing next. I tell them for now that I’ll be freelance editing, but I’ve got a few interviews at other publishers in the area. I tell them to look me up.

I tell them that I’m fine.

And except for the part of me that misses Connor terribly, I am.

I’m choosing to be. I’m making my own happiness, not letting the actions of others tear it away. It’s a struggle minute by minute, but I’m doing it.

I pick up a photo of Kayla and me off the desk. We’re at a cheap dive she found on the Internet, holding up drinks with these ridiculous feather boas around our necks. It was right after she passed her bar exam and got a job offer with the Wicked Witch. Little did she know how that would turn out. And for some reason, she’s sticking it out there even now, when she could leave. Meanwhile, I’m leaving the job I love.

But we each choose our own happy, right? Mine consists of finding a new job and buying my own place when I have a down payment ready. (I’d love to buy the bungalow, but I’m not sure how it’s stayed on the market this long, so my hopes aren’t high in that regard.)

All that to say, I’m moving forward with faith that it’ll all work out, just like Mom told me to do.

When the whole office is packed up, I tape the second box shut and plop into my chair. I’m going to miss these four walls—even my cracked ceiling. This place isn’t perfect, but it’s been my home.

And now, there’s nothing left to do but go get that closure.

I take a deep breath and walk down the hall. But despite being eleven-thirty, Connor’s office is still dark.

Unbelievable.

He’s not coming in for my last day. Apparently, I didn’t even matter enough to him to warrant a goodbye.

Slumping against the wall, I fight back the tears. No. I will not let him steal my happiness.

Just then, Lisa emerges from her office. “Evie, good. I need to talk with you.” She was on vacation for the last few weeks. This is her first day back in the office and the first time I’ve seen her since putting in my resignation letter.

I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides. Release, squeeze, release. “All right.” Following her, I take a seat in her office for probably the last time. She’s been a wonderful boss, and I want her to know that. I was saving this speech for the afternoon going away party my team is throwing me in the break room (probably just cake and balloons, but that’s plenty), but it wells up in my throat and forces its way out.

“Before you say anything, I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you hiring me in the first place.”

Lisa reclines her chair and fiddles with a pen as I talk.

“Here I was this totally green English major from cow country, fresh out of college, and you took a chance on me.”

“I have always prided myself on being a good judge of character. I knew I’d found a winner in you.” Her voice is soft. “I couldn’t be prouder of you. And I don’t want to lose you. In fact, that’s why I called you in here. I have an offer for you—one I hope you’ll accept.”

I straighten in the chair. “What do you mean?”

“I had barely trudged into the office this morning when Connor stopped by saying he needed to talk to me.”

“C-connor?” He was here? When? Must have arrived after I did. But then why is he gone again?

“Yes.” She clicks the pen in and out. “Seems he tried to reach me multiple times on vacation, but Craig took me on a surprise cruise for our anniversary and begged me to put aside my phone and forget about work for a while. It was wonderful to get away from everything. Hard at first, but wonderful all the same.”

“I see.” But I don’t. Why would Connor try to get ahold of Lisa during her vacation?

“Evie, he quit.”

“I’m sorry, what?” My chest is squeezing, my blood rushing so fast in my veins that I wonder if I’m having a heart attack. Can thirty-two-year-olds have heart attacks? “I don’t understand.”

She snaps her chair forward so her elbows are leaning on the desk. “He put in his resignation. As of eight-thirty-two this morning, he no longer works at Evermore. And he told me in no uncertain terms that I had to use this opportunity to convince you to stay.”

“Wait.” I’m still processing, and yes, I’m slow, all right?

If Connor quit so I could have the job, it means he gave up money and prestige for me. And if his father ever found out that he’d sacrificed such a lucrative promotion—and for a woman at that—Connor would never earn his respect.

And I thought his dad’s respect was what he wanted more than anything.

“Why would he do that?” The answer that’s been stuck in my throat finally snaps loose.

Lisa’s smile is stretched, her attempt at being patient with me even though she’s probably frustrated that I don’t get it. But how can I get it? This has come out of left field.

“I suspect it’s because he loves you.”

My head rears back and I look at her. She’s not joking.

I shake my head vigorously. “He told me he didn’t.”

“Then his words and actions don’t line up.” She shrugs. “People don’t give up a good job in this economy unless they’re in love.”

She’s talking about me.

She’s talking about me … and Connor.

Her jutted chin dares me to contradict her.

I can’t talk. My brain is short-circuiting. The room swims as tears fill my eyes. “It doesn’t make sense. It isn’t rational.”

“Love rarely is.”

Love.

And like a gentle breeze, our conversation from that day in the Friendship Garden comes back to me, piece by piece. “The hero needs to sacrifice for the heroine in such a way that they can be together in the end.”

Is that what he’s done?

Oh my gosh, maybe he does love me.

I stand abruptly, nearly hitting my knee against the top of Lisa’s desk. “I … I have to go.”

“So is that a yes about the position?”

Biting my lip, I nod. “Yes. I think so. I … I need to talk to Connor first.”

“Then go.” She shoos at me. “I’ll let everyone know the party this afternoon is off.”

“Thank you.” I scurry out of there, grab my purse off my desk, and then I’m in my car, calling him.

He doesn’t answer.

But I know where he is.

When I reach the Japanese Friendship Garden, I leap from the vehicle and run down the path in my flats and cotton skirt. (It’s one I buried in the back of my closet and wouldn’t let Kayla toss because it’s like wearing a blanket on my thighs and that’s what I needed today, okay?)

I toss money at the ticket agent (okay, not really, but I do buy a ticket as quickly as humanly possible) and race through the crowd that’s already much thicker than orange juice pulp.

I round a corner and there he is, standing under the wisteria—blessedly alone.

Stopping, I just stare at him and take him in. He’s wearing a baseball hat, shorts, a T-shirt—everyday clothing, but on him, they take my breath away.

Fine, he takes my breath away, and it’s got nothing to do with his manly arms or chiseled face or a body that looks like it’s been sculpted by Phidias.

What draws me to him, what draws me forward, is the peace that’s radiating off of him, the way he’s lifting his face upward, eyes closed, his lungs filling and emptying in gentle waves—like he’s finally free of something.

My shoes crunch on the pebbles underneath and his eyes fly open. He blinks. “Evie?”

“Hi, Connor.” I continuing walking until we’re together in the shade of the floral overhang.

He lifts his hand as if to test my realness, then drops it. “How did you find me?”

“I just talked to Lisa,” I blurt. “And I just knew where you’d be. Because I know you. The real you. The one you hide from the world. But I see it.”

Connor looks away for a moment, clearing his throat. Then his gaze sweeps over me and I feel swallowed by it—in a good way, like standing in a high-pressure shower that’s washing away the grime of the day.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he says. “I shouldn’t have let my family get in my head. I just thought …” His jaw clenches. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. It wasn’t an excuse for how I treated you. And I know that it’s probably too late for us, but I wanted you to stay at Evermore. It’s where you want to be.”

A few petals of the wisteria drift down, rustled and nudged by the breeze. “And what about you?”

He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got a few applications in at some marketing firms. But I’ve been writing, a lot actually.” A sad smile crooks his lips. “Turns out it’s a good outlet for heartbreak.”

I brush the fallen flowers with the toe of my shoe. “Why is your heart broken?” Because though this feels like some sort of closure, that’s not what I want anymore.

Not if there’s a chance for us still.

“Don’t make me say it, Evie.”

But I’m not letting him off that easily. I move until we’re toe to toe, and I reach out to touch his forearm. “I need you to say it, Connor.”

“I got your text, and you have no idea what you did for me.” His hand leaves his pocket and finds mine. “I didn’t reply because I don’t deserve a second chance with you. But I knew that the best thing I could do for you was give you back the job you rightfully earned and leave you in peace.”

“That assumption was erroneous.”

“Aw, Webster.” He chuckles. “I’m going to miss all of those big, fancy words.”

But I grind my foot into the ground. It’s time to go big or go home. “Don’t you get it, Connor? You’re the hero in this love story of ours. I don’t want another one.”

“But you deserve the best.”

“How about you trust me to decide what’s best for me, huh? I choose you, Connor, and no one else will do.” Then before he can protest anymore, I throw my arms around his neck, pull his head down, and kiss him.

Go, Evie! Go, Evie!

I pull my head back and laugh at my internal cheerleader. But taking my future in my hands—quite literally, as I run them through Connor’s hair—has never felt so good.

“Evie Denmark, you’re the most pulchritudinous thing I’ve ever seen.” He’s looking at me, complete awe and love written all over his face as his arms hold me tight. “An earthquake may have brought us together, but you’re the one who has rocked my world completely.”

“Ooo, you should be an author or something.” I grin. “Because that was quite the line.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.”

“And what about an HEA?” I ask. “Is one of those in store for this hero and heroine?”

“You’d better believe it.”

And as he kisses me, I do.