I have no words to describe how I feel. Only the aftermath of a storm feels that way, I imagine. There is peace, and calmness, yet everything in me is rattled.

  My mind is scattered, my focus shattered as I go through the motions yet again, hoping that I can finish my workday, today, unscathed.

  “Good morning, Miss Malone.”

  My name sounds foreign on the security guy’s lips, pretty much like my surroundings and the men and women who walk briskly next to me.

  Jolted out of my inner ramblings, I give the man a soft nod in response, swiftly heading to the bank of elevators.

  A few seconds later, I make the trip up in a packed car. Sadly, none of the people accompanying me are my work colleagues.

  Oh, I’m so late. And the thing is I am never late, and today is the worst day to be tardy.

  “Eve?”

  The hushed, female voice comes to me from the side as I push through the double glass doors and enter the firm.

  The receptionist greets me––looking somewhat stiff behind her crescent-shaped desk in her blue dress and tailored jacket before I swivel my head looking for the source of the voice. I sense tension in the hand that grips my elbow, and there’s my answer.

  I pivot and meet Lillian’s eyes, her curt, urgent gesture only making me rush even more as we both pace down the corridor.

  “What happened?” I ask in a clipped voice.

  “They’re here,” she says, her voice echoing hollow along the deserted hallway as we dash past empty cubicles.

  “What do you mean they’re here?” I ask as we both enter my office.

  I drop my bag on my desk and sweep the coat off my shoulders.

  “The man and the woman are here. Ari Shell and Marina Lore. The new bosses, and some of the big wigs. Everybody’s in the conference room.”

  “So early. How? They were not supposed to be here. And why didn’t they make an announcement?”

  A shred of panic flickers through her eyes.

  “They did. They sent an email last night, but you were already gone. There was a text message too. Didn’t you check your phone at all?”

  Oh, shit.

  I snatch my phone from my desk.

  I find the official announcement–– too late, I’m afraid.

  My eyes widen in surprise.

  “Eight o’clock?”

  I shoot my eyes at her.

  “Are we starting at eight o’clock from now on?”

  “Apparently we do. They also scheduled their first meeting at eight thirty.”

  “Ugh... I’m almost an hour late.”

  “Yes. They’ve already asked for you and took the names of the people who didn’t show up on time. They must know you haven’t checked your messages. The other people blamed it on traffic. So, just so you know... They might want to hear an explanation.”

  “I had no idea that they changed the company’s office hours.”

  “Your explanation is as good as any, but I doubt it would work given the circumstances.”

  My pulse spikes, angst building in my body.

  That’s the last thing I needed to deal with right now.

  “Okay. Let me go there,” I say as I grab my tablet and my phone and run my hand down my skirt.

  “Here,” she says, untying her scarf and handing it to me.

  Tossing her a questioning look, I take it.

  “You can use it for now,” she says, pointing to my neck.

  A rush of blood burns my cheeks.

  Oh, no. How could I forget about that?

  I take the scarf and wrap it around my neck before I brush my hair with my fingers and style it closer to my face, hoping to conceal the marks that for sure are not hidden by the piece of fabric.

  Stepping out of my office as if I swallowed needles, I leave my secretary behind and make a beeline for the conference room.

  Every step of the way, I get more and more nervous.

  I’m frazzled, and my mind is a complete mess, and facing scrutiny right now doesn’t fare well for me.

  Smoothly, I open the door and slip inside. Several people sit at the front of the room, Samantha Jackson, and Curt Clemens amongst them, and also their bosses and the new crew, Ari Shell and Marina Lore along with a few people I’ve never seen before.

  From above the rim of his reading glasses, Ari Shell shoots me a pointed look. He leans closer to Samantha Jackson, who swings her gaze in my direction and nods her head a couple of times.

  I slump into a chair not far from the door and try to occupy as little space as I can, my chest tight with apprehension.

  From the other end of the table, a woman in her early fifties sporting a dark green dress, and eyeglasses with a golden tone frame looks at me with curiosity. Dark red-brownish hair frames her face, making her small round brown eyes pop.

  To my surprise, the meeting concludes in less than twenty minutes, and for a moment, I breathe relieved, hoping that my mishap had gone unnoticed.

  I enter my office a few minutes later and crash into my chair when Lillian shows up in the doorway.

  “Ari and Marina asked for you to go to Samantha’s office.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  I shoot her a pointed look.

  “You’re not the only one who has been summoned,” she adds as if that’s supposed to make me feel better.

  Rolling my eyes, I push my chair back, take a deep breath, and make the trip back.

  I already hate my life.

  Ten minutes later, I find myself sitting in front of Samantha’s desk–– who is no longer working in this office, along with three other people, one from Accounting, two from Accounts Management and a girl from Creative.

  Ari Shell and Marina Lore enter the office a minute later.

  The woman props her rear against the window sill while the man slips into Samantha's chair.

  The man is a little shorter than I expected and has a chunky ring on his left hand. The woman, on the other hand, is tall and stiff and seems to be more difficult than him.

  “For those of you who were late...” Ari Shell starts, pointing cold eyes at me. “My name is Ari Shell, and I am the new Marketing Director. This is Marina Lore, the new Creative Director.”

  The man cracks a smile when he points to the woman, but his grin never makes it to his eyes to melt their ice. She doesn’t spare much warmth on me, or us for that matter, either, and my worst suspicion quickly turns into reality.

  The man makes a short introduction before he announces their intention to take the company in a new direction and goes over the several strategies they'd like to implement.

  “As you may already know, one of the changes has to do with your work schedule. Starting now, everybody is expected to show up for work before eight o’clock. Some days will be longer than others, and unless you go out to meet clients, the lunch in should be the new norm. The weekly activity reports will be replaced by daily log-ins. We will be reviewing these reports on day by day basis. Occasionally, we’d send emails out outside of working hours, and you’d be required to check them,” Ari says, lifting his eyes from the list he’s following point by point and swinging his gaze to me again. “Although, in your case, Miss Malone, my understanding is that you left early yesterday afternoon, and our email was sent before the end of the day.”

  He moves his eyes away from me, not waiting for my reaction or my comment, let alone an explanation.

  He pauses for a moment as he studies his list for a few more moments.

  “Good,” he says. “I think that’s all. Miss Lore?”

  He shifts in his chair as he turns his eyes to the woman.

  “It is my understanding,” the woman says, “that the Creative Department lacks structure at the moment.”

  She tips her gaze in my direction, and I’m not sure whether she expects me to confirm it or not. Frankly, I’m not sure what she’s talking about or whether she should confer with us. Whatever structure or lack thereof the company, and this department, in particular, have had, it worked.

  I hold her eyes without saying a word, a strange sensation barreling through me. I don’t know why, but my gut is telling me that this woman doesn’t like me much. It may be the fact that I was late today, or something more particular than that... Whatever it is, it aggravates my circumstances.

  She continues.

  “Next week, I will be reviewing, analyzing and coming up with a new plan on how to make this work,” she says, swinging her eyes to my colleagues.

  Again... Why do I have the feeling that this brief meeting only bears more bad news for me?

  “To help me in the process, I will be doing job performance evaluations starting next week,” she says deadpan. “That’s it,” she adds, pushing off the window sill and nearing the desk.

  The man turns his eyes to us.

  “Any questions?’

  None of us is eager to talk.

  “Good. You can return to your desks.”

  Moments later, I walk into my office, and crash into my chair, my head spinning.

  “Can I get you anything?” Lillian asks from the doorway.

  I lift my gaze.

  Worry flashes through her eyes as she gets a glimpse of me.

  “How was it?” she asks, closing the door.

  “As expected,” I say morosely as I flip my laptop open.

  “Meaning?”

  “Things are as bad as I thought they were. They’re evaluating all of us in the Creative Department, and the rest is... You already know,” I say, my voice trailing off.

  She remains quiet as my gaze sweeps the surface of my desk looking for... God knows what.

  I need to pull myself together as this thing slips away from me faster than I thought.

  “Can you please get me a cup of coffee? Black, no sugar. And something for my headache.”

  She walks away a moment later, while I bury my face in my hands.

  8

  EVE

  I text Tiago before five o’clock.

  Me: Can you meet me at my place tonight? I’m not done for the day.

  I press ‘send’ before I type another message.

  Me: There have been some changes at work. I’ll tell you when we meet tonight.

  Letting out a sigh, I set my phone on my desk and move my eyes to my computer. I’m almost done typing my report when my phone buzzes with an alert.

  Tiago: I’ll be in Brooklyn this evening. I’ll stop by when I get back.

  Me: Love you, baby.

  Tiago: Love you, too.

  A smile sprouts on my lips, the first one since he dropped me off this morning.

  Around six o’clock, people start leaving the firm.

  Perhaps it’s me projecting, but gloom and doom grow thick on the corridor and in the cubicles.

  I don’t think that I’m the only one who feels that their life suddenly got disrupted. And the sad part is that we weren’t even in a bad situation, to begin with.

  Things were good–– fantastic, all this past year.

  We’ve grown tremendously as a company, so much so that the rising wave has lifted everybody. It brought me a promotion and made the two people who were the artisans of this growth a hot commodity on the job market.

  Now that they’re out and new people have been brought in, everything seems to be on shaky ground. I don’t know if the new executives realize or care how demoralizing their approach is for the employees.

  With this last thought, I push out of my seat and start packing my things.

  I leave work a few minutes later, and once I step outside, it feels as if a different life begins.

  I’m still tired and torn and annoyed, but everything feels much better than the grinding of these last few hours in the office.

  I’m so happy that I go home and I’ll forget about this for a while.

  I hail a cab, and twenty minutes later, I step out of it in front of my building. A few more minutes and I walk into my apartment.

  A whole different disposition sweeps through me as I set foot in the hallway. A few things on the wall table are still a mess, a testament to the wild events of this morning. Some mail, a piece of jewelry, and a take out menu lie scattered on the surface.

  A small potted plant has slid to the edge. I push it back, collect the menu, and sift through the mail.

  Moments later, I toss most of it in the garbage, shed my clothes, and walk into the shower.

  Warm water rolls down on me for a few long minutes helping me to lose my edge and relax. My mood improves considerably by the time I walk out of the bathroom.

  I pat myself dry and wrap myself in a big plush towel before I stroll to the kitchen.

  The scent of his aftershave rubs on me as I walk across the hallway, the memory of him putting a smile on my lips.

  Whatever happens from this moment on, the story that I have with him is worth every sacrifice.

  I swing my gaze to the pot of coffee, tempted to pour what would be the third cup of java today, yet slap my thought to the side, and settle for a cup of tea.

  I finish preparing my hot drink before I pull out a small plate from the cupboard and pile up on it cheese, fruit, pretzels, and nuts.

  I set everything on a tray and take it to the living room.

  Minutes later, I crash onto the sofa, a reading lamp on, soft music playing in the background, the snacks and tea not far from me.

  Sunk into a big soft pillow, I finally unwind... for good.

  This was indeed a long day, I muse, as I pick up my phone from the table and start checking my messages.

  My cell rings a moment later.

  “Andy?” I pop a pretzel into my mouth. “What’s up?”

  The salty treat crunches between my teeth.

  “Sorry for not pulling by your table last night.”

  I stop chewing.

  “What?”

  “Last night in the restaurant... I saw you and your friend. I don’t think you noticed us. We were having dinner a few tables over,” he says.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He pauses, waiting for me to continue.

  “Um, yes. I spotted you... Both of us, in fact,” I rush to add, “We didn’t want to interrupt your evening though. It looked like you were on a date. Were you not?”

  “Mmm... Yeah, sort of.”

  “Were you or were you not?” I ask, breathing out a chuckle as I regain my good disposition.

  “She’s a friend of mine.”

  “It looked like much more than that,” I say, chatty all of a sudden.

  I’m hoping that she was.

  “Was she?” I ask. “She was gorgeous in that dress.”

  “Yes, she was. She is good looking,” he says, hesitance lining his voice.

  “Is there a problem with her ?” I ask, sensing an argument against her teetering on his lips.

  “No. There’s no problem. Things are good with her...”

  As his voice trails off, I notice a brief hesitation in his tone again.

  “The reason I called you is that I saw you with that man again,” he says.

  He sighs.

  “So I thought that maybe I should tell you the truth about my move back here,” he continues.

  “Okay...” I mutter.

  “The truth is that I never got over you, Eve.”

  I push upright... Although I can’t say, I’m that surprised.

  The suspicion has always been there. Tiago had picked up on it even before he got the chance to know him.

  And yet... His confession does catch me unprepared.

  This is the man who fell in love with Marcella and couldn’t pull away from me fast enough or find enough reasons to justify his break up with me so that he could move away from me and start a new life with her.

  This is the same man who looked drunk on love for her and practically begged me not to be mad at him because he had no control over his feelings for her.

  “What happened?” I ask baffled. “You never left me the impression that you weren’t able to get over me. Not to mention the fact that you were convinced Marcella was the woman for you.”

  “Perhaps she was at that moment because I didn’t know any better, but things changed once we got married and moved to LA. I realized that it was a mistake, but I didn’t have enough courage to pull away from her. At any rate, when things started to unravel, I planned on moving back here, but it wasn’t because I wanted a new job. There was nothing wrong with my old job. All I wanted was to get close to you again and perhaps get another chance to be with you.”

  He pauses, hoping perhaps that I can give him some reassurance, tell him that he indeed has a chance, but my words never come.

  “When you told me that you were single, I noticed the anger in your voice, and I thought that I could make things better for you. For both of us. Sadly, that opportunity never came.”

  Silence grows at the other end.

  “So, why are you telling me all this, tonight?”

  He pauses for a moment before he speaks.

  “Because seeing you with him made me realize that things are irremediably lost, and my window of opportunity had closed if in fact was ever open. And I thought that I owe you the truth. And also to the woman I go out with right now. I want to make sure that there’s nothing left between us before I move on.”

  He hits another pause before he continues.

  “She likes me, you know... and I want to be fair to her. When I called you tonight, I was hoping that you’d say something, anything that could erase the impression that I got last night.”

  A few moments of silence tick by.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. There’s nothing left to say. You said it all.”

  “I know... I know. Well, I’m happy that you gave me a chance to talk to you and, um... What can I say? I wish you the best of luck with him.”

  “Thank you,” I say after a short pause.

  Our conversation shifts to mundane things for a few more minutes before we end the call.

  I stare at my phone for a few more seconds before I lean back against the pillow, my mind still processing our conversation. Who knew that things with Marcella weren’t as good as he led me to believe they were?

  Absently, I fish another pretzel from the plate when my phone vibrates with a message.