Clients like him don’t walk through the door every day. I need this.

I nod, plastering on a smile that I hope doesn’t look forced. “Let’s talk about the lobby.”

Tyson studies me for a beat. “I have an idea. Why don’t we take this discussion somewhere more relaxed?”

I blink, surprised. “More relaxed?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders shifting beneath his tailored jacket. “Dinner. Tomorrow night. We’ll talk through the details over an elegant meal.”

Dinner with Tyson McRae––the idea shouldn’t make my stomach twist the way it does.

Alex has moved on, leaving no loyalty or devotion behind for me. But somehow, mine for him remains—twisted up inside me, stubborn and aching. I shouldn’t still feel it. I don’t want to. But it’s there, rooted so deep I can’t seem to break free.

A setting outside these four walls, with drinks, might help me shake off the weight of everything he’s just dumped on me. I need time to think, to gather myself, but I can’t afford to hesitate for too long.

I force a polite smile. “A dinner meeting sounds good.”

Tyson’s grin widens just a fraction, and something about it makes my skin prickle. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details.”

He stands, adjusting his jacket like a man who is used to getting what he wants. “I look forward to it, Miss Steel.”

“Me too.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and my entire body sags like a marionette whose strings have been cut. A raw, broken sob rips from my throat as I slide down the wall, landing hard. I curl in on myself—knees to chest, arms locked tight around them—like I can hold everything together if I just squeeze hard enough. But I can’t. I’m unraveling, thread by thread, and there’s no stopping it.

My chest heaves, and the tears come fast, spilling down my cheeks in a flood I have no strength to hold back. I press a trembling hand to my mouth, but it does nothing to muffle the broken sounds escaping me. The weight of everything—losing Alex, losing my job, losing the future I thought I had—presses down, crushing me beneath it.

He’s moved on. He’s happy. In love. Getting married.

The words replay in my head, stabbing deep, each repetition twisting the knife a little more. Alex doesn’t think about me. I’m nothing more than a footnote in his story, a passing memory he’s long since left behind. And here I am, shattered to pieces on the floor of a rented office, drowning in the wreckage of something that never belonged to me.