Page 46 of The Plus-One Deal

“Think about it,” said Joe. “I’m going to head out. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

I waited till the door clicked shut, then sank down at my desk. Nothing felt right this week. Nothing felt easy. My instincts felt off, dulled down to bluntness. I couldn’t intuit which move to make, not with this lawsuit, not with my acquisitions. Not with anything that mattered, or anything that didn’t. I’d even dithered this morning over what to have for breakfast.

I yawned into my elbow and massaged my jaw. This was thanks to my trip, was all. Getting stuck on the island. I hadn’t sleptmuch, with the storm. With Claire. What I needed was sleep, a full, deep eight hours. Once I’d had that, I’d be back to myself.

I grabbed my jacket off my coat tree and headed out of my office. Maybe before I slept, I’d reach out to Claire. See how she was doing, if she was good. She was in talks with Verity, I’d seen on socials. They’d been photographed together at some fashion event. I’d call and congratulate her. No, I’d just text. That wouldn’t be weird, or overstepping. Just one friend telling another friend?—

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I scrambled it out, half-convinced it was Claire, but it was Joe’s name that popped up on the screen.

“Joe. You forget something?”

“No, it’s the Bachman Group. Their attorney just called. They’ve got another offer, and they’ve put ours on hold.”

“What? But we bought them. Wejustsigned the contracts.” I slapped the wall, dizzy. Was I losing my mind?

“They had a twenty-four-hour grace period to back out if they wanted. Looks like they wanted, because they’ve backed out.”

“Unbelievable. Can’t we just, can’t we, uh…” I couldn’t remember what I’d meant to say. I’d gotten caught up in Claire again, let her clutter my mind. All week I’d been finding myself zoned out at my desk, recalling the feel of her skin against mine. The sound of her laughter. The sun in her hair.Shewas the reason I hadn’t closed Bachman — my childish distraction. What was I, in high school?

“We don’t need them,” said Joe. “Their tech’s not unique.”

“But itiswhat we need right now, and… I’ll handle this.” I stood up straighter and shook my head to clear it. I hung up on Joe and looped back to my office, and spent the next hour lining up meetings. I set up golf for tomorrow with Bachman Sr., followed by lunch with him and his son. Then I booked in my legal team to go through our contracts, see if that grace period was set in stone. Bachman had been playing us for weeks already. Maybe my lawyers could argue he’d worn out his grace. Or dig up some problem with their other offer, some conflict of interest. Some legal hitch.

By the time I got through, my head was pounding. I dug through my desk and came up with an aspirin, swallowed it dry and grimaced at the taste. My phone chirped with a text, and I squinted to read it. This time, it was from Claire, and my heart did a backflip.

Hey, checking in to see how you’re doing! Hope our unscheduled layover hasn’t left you buried!

I saw she had texted me twice before that, once late last night, once three days ago.

Just heard from Verity! Thanks SO MUCH again! I owe you for this one, so collect anytime.

Heard about the lawsuit. Everything okay?

I swiped over to my photos and found one of Claire leaning over our balcony, watching the sunset. I’d taken it to capture the sun in her hair, the way it haloed her curls in pure liquid fire. But on my phone screen, the brilliance was lost. Claire could’ve been anyone in silhouette, her hair a dark mass washed out by the sun’s flare. Our whole fling had been like that, great in the moment, but looking back on it, a messy mistake.

I read through Claire’s texts again, thinking how to answer. What did she mean by “collect anytime?” Did she just mean our deal, or was she flirting? And I’d been sued before, and she’d never checked in. Three texts in a week, without a reply — that wasn’t like her. She’d never been clingy.

“Damn it,” I muttered. I typed a reply —All good. Deleted it. How could I have thought our friendship wouldn’t change? Twelve years, she’d wanted me. I’d wanted her too. We’d both understood why it couldn’t be, but then ithadbeen, at least for a moment. Was she having trouble letting it go? If I responded, would I make it worse?

I scrolled back through my photos. I’d only taken a few. I’d snapped the moon before bed our first night, all pale and heavy in the pre-storm sky. The rest were of Claire — Claire in the market. Claire on the beach. Claire winking at me through the hole in a bagel. They could’ve been taken any time in our friendship, twelve years ago, six, or only a week. That was how I’d fooled myself, how normal it seemed. How easy and right it felt to fall into her arms, the person who knew me best in the world.

I jammed my phone in my pocket without answering her text. We didn’t text to check in. That wasn’t us. Claire would remember that when I didn’t reply. It would be awkward at first, and then she’d remember, and we’d slide back into how we’d always been. Like a foot in a boot worn into its shape.

Or she won’t. She’ll be pissed. You’re being a dick.

I fell back in my chair and gazed up at the ceiling.

“This is why I don’t date,” I told the stars through the skylight. My friendship with Claire had been easy. Straightforward. This was the opposite, weird and complex.

I pulled out my phone again and read through her texts, trying to pick out the subtext. Maybe there was none. Maybe it was me. Maybe Claire was just asking me how I was doing, one friend reaching out to check on another. Now I thought of it, wediddo that sometimes.

I pecked out a reply again.All good. It’s a pain, but I’ll manage.

Was Claire sitting somewhere, watching the dots?

I backspaced what I’d written and thumbed my phone off. We needed space, pure and simple. Only that.

Space.