His Secret Desire

3

Peter's office was cold and serene, which was quite irregular for him. It wasn't the typical green walls with paintings and motivational posters hanging from flower vases. The walls were now painted white and made the room appear empty, save for the small brown desk in the center, where Peter sat.

Something felt off.

I swallowed saliva as I shut the door behind me.

“You wanted to see me?”

Peter looked up, his aged eyes looking heavier than usual,“Yes. Have a seat.” he croaked.

I slowly sat down.

“Listen,” I started, though my voice was shaky, “if this is about my Punctuality… I promise there really was traffic—”

“It's not that, Goodwell.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “As a matter of fact, I wish I didn't have to do this.”

The room fell silent for a short while. I furrowed my brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, as you probably already know, our company was sold to the investors from Calween, and they've decided that they want to undergo a restructuring. So this morning, they reached a final decision.”

“A… final decision? On what?”

Peter didn't answer right away.

He looked down at the desk, avoiding eye contact with me and sighed, before slowly sliding over an A4 sheet toward me while saying,

“Your employment.”

My heart dropped.

Is this a prank?

He had played pranks in the past. Silly pranks like switching the hot chocolate dispenser with the coffee, but there was no way that this could be one of those.

So why was he saying it then?

“You're firing me?” It was more of a statement than a question. I was at the brink of tears but I decided to hold on to the last bits of composure I had. He wasn't going to see me cry. Not here.

“Miss Goodwell,” Peter breathed, “it was a unanimous decision. The new board has other plans for this company and unfortunately your name was one of the few that got caught up in it. I'm very sorry but your services are no longer needed here.”

I leaned back in my chair.

This had to be some sort of nightmare.

My ears rang, drowning out whatever Peter was still saying. I stood up on unsteady legs, the paper crumpled in my grip.

“Renee—” he called, but I was already at the door.

The hallway blurred in my teary vision, and normally I would try to hide my tears from my coworkers, but I didn't care anymore.

I walked. Then faster. Then out.

By the time I reached my car, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely unlock it.

The door slammed.

And just like that—

I broke.

Loud, ugly sobs tore through me and I wept like I’d never wept before.

I didn’t care who heard me. Not the employees passing by, not the ones getting into their cars, not even the security guard who glanced over and quickly looked away.

Let them hear.

Because what was I now?

First it was Max, now my job is gone as well. And now it was just me.

Alone.

My chest tightened as my gaze drifted to the glove compartment.

I hadn’t touched alcohol in months. Years even.

But right now…

God, right now it felt like the only thing that might make this hurt less.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

***

I couldn't remember how I ended up at the bar, but somehow I did.

One minute I was bawling in traffic and the next, I was sitting at a counter, waiting for my turn to be served. I'd promised myself that I was no longer going to drink, but today was different. Today felt like this was the only escape from the train wreck that had become my reality, as much as I hated to admit it. I gave myself the reassurance that it was going to be just this one time. Just this once and then I'd never touch alcohol again.

A part of me was warning me not to indulge in it because I hadn’t even told Jess where I was, so if anything, I was going to have to drive myself back home, drunk. Jess was going to be mad when she found out. She was going to beat herself up for it if I ended up dead. But I wasn't going to end up dead, because I knew what I was doing. I knew how much I'd have to take just so that it was enough to make me forget my misery but not forget how to drive. If that was even possible.

Who was I kidding?

“Martini for the lady?” The bar-tender slid a glass of the gin towards me.

“Oh… thanks, but I haven't ordered yet.”

The man pointed to the tables behind me. I turned around and noticed that a group of men sat at the far end, all wearing black suits, but only the one in the middle stood out. Not because he looked younger than everyone, but because he was looking back at me. I smiled shyly at him to which he did nothing in return. “Special thanks to the gentleman”