Page 104 of Dissonance

“So that’s a no,” Mae mutters.

I look at her, eyebrows lifting, that brittle patience settling over my expression as she keeps staring at me like she’s waiting for more.

“He said he’d come back and explain. So…” I make a small, frustrated motion with my hand. “This is me waiting.”

I don’t tell her what else I’m waiting on. The flat-packed boxes stacked in the spare room, the stroller still in its packaging, the crib he was supposed to put together this weekend. All of it arrived the morning he left, sitting exactly where the delivery men put it. He was meant to do it all. And that’s not something I can say out loud yet without wanting to break down.

I pull my laptop closer and hit the trackpad harder than I need to. “When I said we’d talk about it later, I meant the next morning, the next evening, at the latest. Not this long.”

She’s quiet, always perceptive, picking up on more than I’m giving. “Whatever’s been piling up while you’ve been waiting…You don’t have to do it alone. I bet your brother would help if you asked him—”

“I don’t need someone else to do it, Mae.” I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I just need him to do what he said he would.”

The silence stretches, regret edging into my already rigid posture. I shouldn’t snap at her. She’s only trying to help, but what am I supposed to do? I don’t have anything else to give her.

“Okay,” she says, sucking in a breath, eyes wide. “Let me try a different way. Are you avoiding reaching out because you’re scared of what he might say?”

This time, I glare at her. “I know what he’s going to say. Up until then, it’s been…manageable. A concept, an idea—”

“Do you, though? Because that sounds like you putting words in his mouth.”

“You didn’t see him.” I spread my hands flat on the desk, leaning forward.

“Thea—”

“And when we got home, I tried to talk to him, and he couldn’t give me a single thing. Not one sentence. And then he left.” I sit back, a little breathless. “So you tell me what I’m supposed to think. Because the only conclusion I can come up with is that when it stopped being theoretical, when it actually became real and scary, it was too much.”

“I think you might be reading—”

“We never talked about what we were.” The words come out quieter now. “Not once. We just moved toward each other, and I let myself assume we were on the same page without ever checking. And that’s on me as much as it’s on him. But now, I’m here, trying to understand what the hell happened, and I don’t have any of the context to read it right, because we never…” I trail off, pressing my lips together. “We never actually said any of it out loud.”

She’s quiet, shifting in her seat.

“Okay,” she says eventually, like she’s treading on broken glass, scared she might get cut. “I hear you, and it matters. He shouldn’t have left, but I need you to listen to me.”

I look at her, exhaling through my nose.

“I couldn’t stop shaking once you left that day. I was here, in this office, and I couldn’t stop. So if I was like that—me, who loves you, but I’m not the father of your child—how do you think he felt?”

“She was fine,” I say, voice rising. “Sure, I freaked out, but once they told us everything was okay, I calmed down.”

“Because that’s what you do. You’re pragmatic. You process, and then you move on.” She holds up a hand before I can argue. “And I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, but not everyone works that way. Some people need longer to come down from something like that.” Her eyebrows knit together as she leans forward. “Thea, I’ve seen the way that man looks at you for months. Not at your bump. At you. Do you know he stands when you walk into a room? That he tracks you whenever you move? He’s here every morning and night, making sure you eat, taking breaks with you. That isn’t a man who’s here out of obligation. And I need you to stop letting the fact that ‘neither of you said it out loud’ convince you that it isn’t real.”

I look at the closed drawer, at the flowers, at the coffee still warm on my desk.

“You can use the excuse of no signal all you like,” she says. “But he’s tried to speak to you. Twice. I saw the missed calls on your phone when you left it on my desk yesterday.”

I don’t say anything.

“You’re your own worst enemy sometimes,” she says, matter of fact. “You spend so much time being capable and not needing anyone that the second someone actually shows up, you start looking for the catch. And spoiler, there isn’t one with Lockie.”

“But he still left,” I say, and I hate how small it sounds.

Mae stands, smoothing down the front of her pants.

“He did,” she says simply. “And you’re still here wondering why instead of going and finding out. You’re Thea freaking Calloway. You built this company from nothing, go toe-to-toe with label execs daily. You’ve never once in the time I’ve worked for you waited for something you want to come to you.” She tilts her head, crossing her arms. “So why are you starting now?”

“I can’t just leave—”