Page 91 of Heated (Burned, Inc.)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ZORA
I stare at my inbox.
And stare. As if willing it to give up its secrets. Or just one of them. And that’s if Cyrus has read and replied to my email. But, of course, I know the answer.
No and no.
Anger flashes inside me like a struck match. He didn’t even bother to read my email yet. Sure, he could be very busy at work and hasn’t had the opportunity yet ... and that’s bullshit. Cyrus just doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. Not even in email form.
“Too soon,” I whisper, shuffling the pen on my desk from one side of the keyboard to the other. Needing to give my handsanythingto do. “It’s just too soon for him to hear from me.”
If he ever wants to hear from me. That’s possible. And if it is true, I’ll have to be okay with it.
No, Iwillbe okay.
If all of this has taught me anything, it’s I have work to do—on myself. As Levi pointed out, I do have trust issues that stem from an emotionally chaotic childhood. Whether it’s Cyrus or someone else, Iwill enter my next relationship healthy and from a place of strength. I’ve already scheduled my first appointment with a counselor.
And I’ve resigned my position of family peacemaker.
I inhale a deep breath, flattening my hands on top of my pants-covered thighs.
Yes, I’m going to be more than okay. I will be fine.
A quick rap on my office door is the only warning I receive before Miriam opens the door and sticks her head in the opening.
“You ready? Our client is here.”
I roll away from my desk and stand. After grabbing my suit jacket off the back of my chair, I slip it on.
“I’m ready. But I still don’t understand why both of us have to sit in on this meeting. You could’ve handled it just fine.”
Miriam shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t I know it. Especially since I came up with this new package I’m dying to try out. Picture this. You know how they have the kiss cam at games? Why not the breakup cam?”
She spreads jazz hands out in front of her, grinning.
I cross my arms. “So basically broadcast the breakup with thousands of their nearest and dearest closest friends?”
Miriam drops her arms and purses her mouth. “The idea could use a little tinkering.”
Snorting, I move past her into the hall. “Just a little.”
We walk toward the lobby, and just before we reach the end of the hallway, Miriam reaches out and captures my hand. Startled, I stutter-step, glancing down at our clasped hands, then looking at her.
Concerned, I frown. “Are you okay?”
She squeezes my fingers.
“Yes.” She smiles at me. “I love you, and you deserve all the good things.”
“I love you too,” I say, returning the smile but confused. “And thanks. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. And everything.” She grins wide and strides out into the lobby.
Shaking my head, I follow ... and draw up short.
Shock takes a sledgehammer to my chest and slams the air from my lungs. The power of the blow ricochets through every one of my limbs, rendering me motionless. But anger, fear, joy—those emotions stream through me unchecked and so violent that my head lightens.
