Lexi had been hounded by the press requesting interviews after Jade hinted that Vincent was having an affair with a co-worker. While Jade didn’t accuse Lexi publicly, she put out enough sound bites and vague details that the news agencies had Lexi in their crosshairs within twenty-four hours.

Hope had been such a great friend to Lexi through the last week. When Lexi finally came home that horrible night, Hope was already waiting for her in the apartment, tending to her bruised knuckles in a small bowl of ice water. Lexi didn’t even make it all the way to the couch and she collapsed into a heap on the floor, hysterically sobbing, overwhelmed with feelings of loss and despair.

That endless night turned into the following morning, and Lexi woke up in her bed, snuggled against her friend. The tears had finally ended, but the ache in Lexi’s chest refused to dissipate. She had to concentrate on every breath and step she took, forcing herself to get up and out of bed to face the day. Sean came over, and he and Hope tried to talk Lexi into coming out to lunch with them, but she wouldn’t leave the apartment. Hope made her a salad before she left, kissed Lexi on the head, and told her to call if she needed anything. Sean wrapped his giant arms around her and held her tight, as if to protect her from the crazy world that was spinning around her, even if only for a few seconds. She’d pressed her cheek

against his broad chest, and bawled her eyes out, again.

“I’m sorry, Lex. I wish I could say something to help, but I suck at this.” Sean felt her chuckle through the tears. He pulled her chin up and wiped her tears. “Don’t know if it will make you feel any better, but I saw his sorry butt this morning and he looks a hell of a lot worse than you do. Except he doesn’t have a snotty nose like yours. That’s kinda gross.” When the corner of her mouth turned up into a small smile, Sean hugged her. “Knew i could get a smile out of you.” He kissed her head and let her slip from his grasp so she could grab some tissues. Then she ushered the two of them out the door and took some time to be alone with her thoughts.

On Sunday, Elizabeth and Anna had both called Lexi and left her messages, apologizing for Vincent’s behavior and asking if there was anything they could do for her. Lexi appreciated the gesture, but she knew if she spoke to either one of them, she would be reduced to tears again, and she was trying to move on to a place where she could function despite her heartbreak.

Lexi remembered the shock on Hope’s face when she came over to check on Lexi bright and early Monday morning and found her getting ready for work.

“Are you crazy?”

Lexi paused with the hairbrush in her hand. “For what? Going to work? Millions, actually billions, of people do it every day. No biggie.”

“It is when your boss is Vincent Drake!”

The brush made a clanking noise as Lexi slammed it down on the counter. “The Marradesi presentation is Friday, and there’s still a lot of work to do. I’m not walking away from that project. I’ve poured my heart into it. Professionally, it will be a huge accomplishment, one I’m not willing to sacrifice … for anyone.”

Hope stepped out of the way as her irritated friend hurried past her, down the hall to the kitchen. She trailed behind Lexi, grabbing an apple out of the basket of fruit on the kitchen table. “Your dedication to your work is admirable, but what are you going to do about Vincent?”

Lexi tightened her grip on the refrigerator door and closed her eyes. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

But she never had to cross that bridge on Monday or Tuesday or even Wednesday. Over the weekend, Vincent had apparently rearranged his schedule to be out of the office at meetings, including an overnight in Los Angeles. He sent Lexi E-mails, but only regarding their upcoming presentation. Every interaction was professional and necessary. Communicating with him this way was easy enough—the physical distance and the businesslike tone to his E-mails helped. There were no hidden meanings, no “I’m sorry” or “I miss you” messages, and every single one was signed V.D., his impersonal signature for business associates. He’d used that signature with Lexi when she’d first started working there, but he had long ago dropped it from his communications with her, and only her.

Even though he was out of the office, he wasn’t out of her thoughts. All she had to do was glance up at any wall at Hunter and there were pictures of his past campaigns, reminders of him everywhere around her. She tried not to look at them and stay focused on her work, but it was impossible. He was Hunter Advertising for her whether or not she wanted to admit it. He was the thing she most looked forward to when she walked in the door each morning. Their interactions, their banter, their collaboration and friendship—those were the things that made work fun. Without him there, the office had a flat, lifeless quality for Lexi.

The one bright spot in her Monday had been the giant cup of coffee that had been left on the corner of her desk that morning, just how she liked it with two creams and extra sugar. As she trudged down the hall to her apartment that night, she’d smiled, thinking that maybe the next morning she’d feel brave enough to thank Leigh for the small act of kindness. Leigh knew how devastated she had been over the incident with Vincent and rather than question her, she gave Lexi her space, and some coffee to let her know that she was thinking of her. Lexi glanced down as she went to stick

her key in the door and found her foot beside a beautifully wrapped package with a green ribbon on it. Puzzled, Lexi tucked the box carefully under her arm and hurried inside.

She casually tossed her mail onto the table and carried the mystery gift over to the couch. Her heart began pounding as she tugged on the silk

ribbon, allowing it to pool onto her lap. With her hands shaking, she slipped her finger under the edge of the ornately decorated wrapping and gently pulled. She crumpled the paper and gasped as she read the print on top of the box. It was from the art gallery just down the street from Julian’s studio, one of her favorite places to window shop because she knew the pieces inside were handmade and way beyond her price range. Lexi touched her fingers to the gold letters that spelled out “Capri,” then took a deep breath and opened the box.

Inside was a crumpled pile of navy blue tissue paper, and on top sat a crisp, white note card with her name written on it. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as her blood raced through her veins. She knew that handwriting. She saw it every day at work, the perfectly scripted letters that made her name look more beautiful than she had ever been able to achieve with her own writing. Lexi picked up the card and dropped it three times before finally finding the courage to open it.




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