Chapter Five
The office was almost empty when I finally looked up from my screen. The clock glared 10:47 p.m. I rubbed my eyes, realizing I'd been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes without processing a single word. The air conditioner hummed faintly in the silence, and for the first time tonight, I noticed the faint glow of another office light down the hall.
Everyone else had gone home hours ago. Except her.
Tiffany.
I should've ignored it. I told myself I would. But my body moved before my head could stop it. Maybe it was curiosity or the same restless pull that had been haunting me ever since she walked back into my company.
Her door was slightly ajar. Through the glass, I saw her bent over her desk, her hair pulled loosely back, her jacket hanging off the chair. Her fingers moved across the keyboard, her face lit softly by the screen. She looked tired but focused,like the world outside didn't exist.
I leaned on the doorframe. "You always work this late?"
She jumped, startled, and turned toward me. Her expression flickered from surprise to that professional calm she wore like armour. "Oh,Mr. Carter. I didn't hear you coming."
"Didn't mean to scare you," I said, stepping inside.
Her eyes softened slightly. "You didn't. I just thought everyone left."
"I did," I lied, glancing at the files on her desk. "But then I saw a light still on. Guess I was curious who was breaking company rules by working overtime."
A faint smile curved her lips. "I thought dedication was something you appreciated."
"Used to," I said, half teasing, half serious. "Now I just think people need rest."
She gave a soft laugh, quiet but real. "You haven't changed, Dave."
The way my name sounded in her voice,it shouldn't have mattered. But it did. Too much.
"You remember that," I said, my tone lower than I intended.
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, a flash of emotion crossing her face. Then, she looked back down at the papers. "Some things are hard to forget."
I moved closer, slow enough to test my own control. The scent of her perfume,something light - something familiar,lingered between us. "You should head home," I said quietly. "It's late."
"I'm almost done," she murmured.
"Still the same," I said softly. "You'd rather drown in work than let anyone help."
She froze, her lips parting slightly. The words hung in the air, too close to the truth, too close to the past.
Her voice was soft when she spoke. "That's not fair."
"Maybe not," I said, exhaling slowly. "But neither was walking away without a word."
She blinked, her eyes glistening faintly in the lamplight. "You think I didn't pay for that?"
Something in her tone,wounded, quiet, real,shut me up. I looked away, jaw tight. "This isn't the place."
"You brought it up," she said, her voice trembling just slightly.
I sighed. "You're right."
A silence settled, fragile and heavy. Her fingers brushed against a stack of papers, but she didn't really look at them. I could tell she was struggling to hold her composure.
I finally said, "Let me drive you home."
She shook her head quickly. "No, thank you. I'll be fine."
"It's almost midnight."
"I said I'll be fine," she repeated, her tone firmer now, though her eyes betrayed exhaustion.
"Still stubborn," I murmured.
She almost smiled. "And you're still bossy."
I smirked faintly, turning toward the door. "Suit yourself."
But as I walked away, something about the way she was sitting,alone, shoulders slightly slumped,stayed with me. It shouldn't have mattered. I shouldn't have cared.
Yet twenty minutes later, when I drove past the company gates, I saw her.
She was walking along the side of the road, heels clicking unevenly on the pavement. Then I noticed the way she stopped, crouched briefly, and sighed in frustration. One heel had snapped clean off. She took the shoe off, holding it in her hand as she walked barefoot on one side.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, turning the wheel.
I slowed down beside her and rolled the window down. "Need a lift now?"
She turned sharply, her face flushed. "Dave? You're still here?"
"Lucky for you," I said. "Or unlucky. Depends on how you look at it."
Her lips twitched. "I told you I was fine."
"And I told you you're not," I replied, eyeing her broken heel. "Get in."
"Dave, I can walk. It's not that far."
"In those shoes?" I stepped out of the car and walked toward her before she could argue.
She took a small step back. "You don't have to"
I didn't let her finish. "You're going to end up cutting your foot open, Tiffany."
"I said I'm okay," she insisted, though the stubbornness in her voice was trembling.
"You always say that," I murmured.
Before she could react, I gently placed a hand around her waist, careful but firm. She froze, eyes widening.
"Dave"
"Relax," I said quietly. "Just making sure you don't fall again."
Her heartbeat was fast,I could feel it through the small distance between us. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her body,it was maddening how familiar it still felt.
When I opened the car door for her, she hesitated, looking up at me. "You really don't have to do this."
"I know," I said softly. "But I want to."
She swallowed hard, then slid into the seat.
I walked around to the driver's side, closed the door, and started the engine. The silence inside the car was thick. Streetlights washed over her face in flashes of gold and shadow, and for a moment, she looked exactly like the woman I used to wake up next to.
"Thank you," she said finally.
I glanced at her. "For what?"
"For still being… kind," she said quietly. "Even after everything."
I exhaled slowly. "Don't mistake decency for kindness."
Her eyes flicked toward me, sad and soft. "You always say things like that when you're trying to hide what you feel."
That made me look at her, really look. "And you always read me too easily."
She smiled faintly, the corner of her mouth curving the way it used to when she was trying not to cry.
When I stopped in front of her apartment, she didn't move right away. She just sat there, fingers brushing her broken heel on the floor mat.
"I'll fix that for you," I said, nodding at the shoe.
She looked at me in surprise. "You don't fix shoes."
"I could start," I said softly.
That earned me a small laugh,quiet, but real. "Good night, Dave."
"Good night, Tiffany."
She opened the door and stepped out. The breeze lifted her hair as she turned to give me one last look. There was so much in that look,regret, longing, something that could still burn if we let it.
Then she was gone, disappearing into the building.
I sat there for a long moment, staring at the space she'd left behind. My hand tightened on the steering wheel.
I'd spent years convincing myself I was over her. That what we had was buried, gone, finished.
But tonight, for the first time in a long time, I realized I'd been lying to myself.
Because no matter how much I tried, every part of me still turned toward her.