Page 55 of Puck Me Twice

I purse my lips. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Trust me, it is.”

“Whatever.”

“The point stands, whatever happens down the line, he’s clearly in love with you now. Why are you worried about future pain when you can be happy for now?”

I swallow. “I didn’t see it coming last time. I don’t want to be caught off guard again.”

“Oh, Van…” Jacky squeezes my hand.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

She laughs. “And if you’re not, that’s fine, too.”

“Is there a reason you wanted to talk to me?”

Deflection. It always works, sixty percent of the time.

“I wanted to check in, make sure you’re okay,” Jacky says.

“I’m fine,” I lie again.

She opens her mouth.

“I’d like to get to work, if that’s okay. I could use the distraction.”

She nods. “Let me know if you need anything. The team will be in soon for film review. If you want to head out early, we can make that happen.”

I give her a teary smile. “Thanks. But I don’t need that. I’m fine.”

Heading back to my desk, I get a look at myself in the reflection of my computer screen. My eyes are red and swollen from crying, my face is splotchy without makeup, and my hair is stringy and greasy because I didn’t have the energy to wash it. No wonder Jacky was worried.

Still, I have work to do, so I put my head down and get to work. I need the distraction.

About an hour in, a delivery arrives, and Jacky sets a small bag on my desk.

“What’s this?”

She shrugs. “It says Vanessa Morgan on the note.”

It’s a small brown paper bag from a bakery in Beacon Hill. Intrigued, I open it to find two perfect chocolate croissants and a small folded note.

V— Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.

Though it’s not signed, I know exactly who it’s from.

The last thing I expect is for Robby fucking Andrews to come to my desk. What the hell kind of game is he playing? Can’t I get a freaking moment of peace from the memory of that douchebag without having to see his fucking face?

Robby is wearing a team staff t-shirt and athletic pants. He moves stiffly, and for a brief moment, I feel a flicker of concern before I lock it away. Is he hurt? Did he aggravate his knee injury?

I shouldn’t care about him. He’s nothing to me.

But…

We were close once. At one time, I thought he was my forever.

“Hi, Nessie,” Robby says. He puts his arm over the top of my cubicle, and his familiar scent wafts toward me. “Can we talk?”