Page 24 of The Focal Point

“That sucks.”

I looked up to find that he had stopped eating, his fork resting against his plate as he stared at me. The compassion in his eyes was enough to make my throat thick, and I took a long swallow of wine to wash it down before I shrugged. “It happened. At least I did see it eventually, and I’m not still stuck with him.”

I offered Liam a slight smile that felt like a lie, my throat feeling thick again. But Liam, for once, didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he watched me intently for what seemed like a long minute. Then he shook his head, his expression far more intense than I had seen before. “His loss.”

The words left me frozen. No one had said those words since my breakup. Sure, there had been platitudes, unhelpful statements, and anger on my behalf. But even I hadn’t let myself think such a thing.

Something began in the center of my chest and spread outward, a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time. I flushed, trying but not succeeding to hide my smile.

“Thanks,” I managed, finally picking up the twirl of noodles to take a bite.

We finished dinner, and I headed home. But this time, I wore a happy smile for the first time in a long time.

Chapter 9

Liam

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I SLAMMED MY NOTEBOOK onto my desk and collapsed back into my chair. Groaning, I let my head fall back and covered my face with my hands.

The sound I had been waiting for came only a minute later—hard footsteps following me into my office and the door slamming shut. As much as a glass soft-closed door could, anyway.

“Hey, what the hell was that?” Tom demanded.

“I lost it,” I groaned again through my hands.

“Yeah, I could see that. Everyone did.” The chair across from my desk creaked as Tom sat down. “What the hell is going on, Liam?”

It took me a minute to answer, my hands dropping into my lap though my eyes remained closed. I had, uncharacteristically, been in a bad mood today. I’d been in a bad mood all week, but today had been particularly stormy. I knew my employees had noticed my lack of response to their friendly banter, something I always took part in. But someone had dropped the ball on a large project, and it had come out during a meeting today.

Normally, I would have chalked it up to experience and helped the employee figure out a solution. Mistakes happen, and no one is perfect. I knew I had a good staff, and everyone here worked hard—they had been hand-picked by either Tom or myself. But instead of my usual understanding, I had lost my temper and, worse, stormed out of the room.

I had never, not once, done that in my company's history. Come to think of it, I hadn’t done it as a teenager, either, though I’d had my moments.

But I had done it today—lost my temper and acted like a child. And I felt genuinely horrible about it.

“Seriously, Liam. What is going on with you? You’ve been sulking around all week. Did we lose some bid I don’t know about? Is there some exposé out there about how our technology is harmful instead of helpful?” Tom’s voice broke through the guilt clouding my mind.

I finally opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Clear autumn light streaming through the picture windows created stripes across the white paint. I took a breath, then let it out in a rush.

“Today is the last day Bailey’s working on the house.”

The office was silent for a moment save for the ambient sounds of work beyond. And then Tom cursed—broadly.

“Are you kidding me?” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, palms pressed flat against the desktop. “You’re stalking around here like your dog just got run over because Bailey finished your house?”

“I want to see her again.” I sat up and faced my best friend and CTO, defensive in the face of his bemused disbelief.

“Then ask her out!” Tom threw up his hands like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“You don’t get it,” I sighed, deflating. “I love being with her. She’s funny and smart and creative and talented, and the way she smiles—I can’t get her out of my head. But I seem to be solidly stuck at ‘friend.’”

“Then go out as friends.” Tom glared at me. “Go to the movies as a friend. Go visit the Bay Area for a day as a friend. Do whatever—just don’t take it out on all of us.”

“I don’t want to stay friends,” I moaned. “But Bailey had a bad breakup. She won’t say a lot about it, but she’s sworn off dating ever since. But I just need more time with her. I know I can show her I’m not her ex. I just need more time.”

I’d spent much less time with Bailey while she redecorated my house than I had initially planned. Though I had been around more the first few weeks, the launch of our product had taken up the rest—and early mornings and late nights had meant Bailey had left long before I got home. All I needed was time to show her I was someone she could trust, maybe even love—but time was running out like sand through a glass.