The Speed of Light: A Novel(68)

I shake my head, smooth my hair. “God, I can’t believe I did that. Sorry.”

He chuckles and slides into the chair in front of my desk, flopping his shiny black hair away from his forehead. “Nikki said you’ve been in beast mode training for this race. Badass.”

I snort. “Yeah. It’s pretty badass to be caught napping in your office.”

He shrugs. “Well, at least you weren’t snoring or drooling or anything.”

“True,” I concede. “So, what can I do for you?”

He flashes a crooked smile, cocks his head, and I blink, wait. Then he shakes his head and pulls out a file. “Uh, I’m just here because we, the grammatically challenged, could use a little help with the copy on this next postcard.”

“Well.” I make a show of cracking my knuckles. “You’ve come to the right place.”

He sets it down and points to a paragraph on the back. We both lean over to get a better view. “See, I’m pretty sure Chet didn’t mean for it to say, ‘Students can get they’re degree in four years.’”

We giggle together at Chet’s expense. “Sure, I’d be happy to take a look.”

“Great.” Raj clears his throat. “So, uh, Simone, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” I grab my red Sharpie, already hunting for other typos, but I look up when movement in the doorway catches my eye. “Connor.”

He’s standing there holding a bouquet of flowers and looking from me to Raj, and I can’t read his expression. “Guess I’m interrupting something,” he says quietly.

Raj leans back with an awkward smile. “Uh, hey, man.” He turns to me. “I can come back later?”

“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “Just wait for a minute, okay?”

Raj freezes in place and I push myself up, head spinning, torn. Connor’s here—he showed up at my office door with flowers, for Christ’s sake; that has to count for something—and yet I’m so flustered I don’t know how to feel. I step toward him, my voice low as I usher him out into the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.” He glances back toward my office. “But is that . . . are you . . . seeing someone else now?”

I cross my arms. “Raj is my coworker. We’re just friends.”

He nods. “And it’s the same with me and Diana.”

I wince when he says her name, and it all comes flooding back—the image of them together.

“Why won’t you believe me?” Connor takes a step toward me, and I look down. “Please, Simone, can we just go somewhere and talk about this?”

I look up at last, and his eyes are so pleading—I am so desperate to trust this is real, that his love won’t fade no matter what the future holds—that I fear I can’t hold it back any longer. Because I’m afraid. I am absolutely terrified you’re a fixer who is going to leave me one day when you realize I am a burden and you should be with someone like Diana, not someone like me.

Down the hall, a door clicks open. Tense voices float out, and Stan and Chet follow them, red faced and gesturing. “We don’t know for sure, yet, right? We shouldn’t do anything until we know what these meetings—” Stan stops when he sees us, then looks from Connor’s frown to my sorrowful eyes. “Uh, Simone, is there a problem?”

Farther down the hall, Nikki pokes her head out of the photo studio, and her eyes widen, flicking between Connor and me. The floor squeaks behind us, and I whip around—Raj has moved to my office doorway and is peeking out, looking like he wants to melt into the floor.

I can’t take it.

“There’s no problem.” I manage to hold my head high, though inside I’m dying. “Connor was just leaving.”

The crushing look on his face steals my breath, and I can’t watch him walk away. Instead I turn and flee down the hall in the opposite direction, past Stan and Chet, past Nikki and into the bathroom, where at last, behind the safety of the locked door, I let my tears fall.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

September 19, three months before

As the heat eases and the chill of fall slips into the city, Connor’s calls and texts stop as if carried away on the prairie wind, and I pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore. Besides, I have to focus now: we’re getting closer to race day, and the weight of its importance presses heavily on my shoulders.

So does my best friend’s disapproval.

Nikki’s frustration is a tangible thing today, barely contained. “Connor called Claudia again last night.”

I grimace. Guess he hasn’t given up entirely.

“And unlike you, we actually answer once in a while.” She looks over at me without breaking stride. “I mean, I still don’t understand how you could just cut him off like that.”

We round a corner. The falls are in sight, and I push myself faster as if I’m trying to outrun Nikki, as if I’m trying to outrun my pain. My own callousness shocks me, too, makes the pain of missing him cut even deeper. But it’s like a window was opened that day when I saw him with her, like I’d surfaced from a beautiful dream into harsh reality. And I couldn’t let it go on any further. I could no longer pretend it could work out between us—that things could work out for me.