When I don’t smile back, his lips droop. “Wait. You aren’t upset, right? We never said we were exclusive or anything. I mean, hell, Jane, we haven’t even hung out outside work.”

“No. No. You-you’re right. It’s-it’s fine.” The stammer gives me away. It always does.

And it’s not fine. My cheeks burn. Shame squirms under my skin. Why did I fall for his flirting and compliments and secret grins? I’m an idiot.

“Good. I want us to be friends and I was thinking about asking Presley out. You’d be cool with that, right?”

Swallowing past my tongue, which has suddenly swollen in my mouth, I manage to eke out an answer. “Yeah. That’s fine. Totally . . . fine. I have to—”

I have to get out of here.

I flee the room like it’s on fire, stalking across the hall to the bathroom, my vision crowding with black spots. Once in a stall, I sit and breathe. I have to force the air in and out slowly, counting, counting, counting until my heart evens out.

It’s not like I’m in love with Mark or anything, I just thought . . . My jaw clenches. I saw what I wanted to see. I was so eager for someone to see me that I would have taken anyone that showed the slightest bit of interest.

Bright side. There has to be a bright side.

I’m still alive. I paid my rent for this month, so I have a few weeks until I have to worry about being homeless. And I guess I won’t have to worry about things being strained around Mark since I no longer have a job here.

A wet giggle bursts out of me, an abrupt and braying noise, echoing in the tiled bathroom.

A toilet flushes.

Aaand, of course, I’m not alone in here.

Why me?

A few minutes later, I’m standing at my desk, eyes tracing over the contents scattered across the surface: sticky notes, highlighters, the pens lined up neatly next to where I normally set my laptop.

I guess I came over to pack up my desk, but why? Nothing here is mine. I have no photos, no plants, no personal items. It all belongs to them.

“How did it go?” Presley stops at the corner of my desk.

“Fine.” An automatic response to everything in my life. It’s all fine. Even when it’s decidedly not fine. Just smile and keep going. That’s what I do.

“You don’t look fine.”

My head doesn’t quite shake. It tilts. “Yeah. I’m not.”

“Oh no. Do you want to talk about it? We could take an early lunch.”

Early lunch? I don’t have a lunch hour, not anymore. All day will be my lunch. I swallow down some strangled, hysterical laugh threatening to emerge like a drunk hyena.

“No. I’ve got to go.” I lift my gaze.