Better Off Alone

Chapter 9

(Rebecca's POV)

"Sean doesn't know I'm resigning," I tell Alexander. "And I'd prefer it stays that way."

Alexander's face does something complicated. He's loyal to Sean — it's his job to be loyal to Sean — but I've worked beside him for years. I've covered for him when he was late. I've brought him lunch when he forgot to eat. I've watered the plant on his windowsill that he thinks is alive because of sunlight.

"Rebecca," he says quietly. "Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he nods, and the nod has weight to it, like he's agreeing to something bigger than a resignation.

"Three days," he says. "I'll find a replacement by Thursday. But Rebecca — if you change your mind—"

"I won't."

He nods again. "Okay."

I turn to leave. My hand is on the door handle when he says one more thing.

"For what it's worth — I always thought you deserved better than this."

I don't turn around. If I turn around, he'll see my face, and my face is doing things I can't control right now.

"Thank you, Alexander."

I walk out.

Back at my desk, I sit down and pull up my calendar. Today is Monday. I pick up the red pen from the cup beside my monitor — the one I use to mark deadlines, flag urgent items, circle dates that matter.

I draw a circle around Tuesday.

Then Wednesday.

Then Thursday.

Three red circles. Three days. Seventy-two hours of making coffee that won't be thanked for, organizing documents that will be taken for granted, adjusting lights that Sean will never learn to adjust himself.

Seventy-two hours, and then I'm free.

I put the cap back on the pen and set it down. My desk is neat. My inbox is clear. The coffee machine in the corner is freshly cleaned, ready for tomorrow's first pot.

I won't be cleaning it again after Thursday.

I look at the calendar. The three red circles stare back at me, bright against the white squares, like exit signs at the end of a long hallway.

I've been walking this hallway for six years.

Three more days.

I can do three more days.

Then I'll finally be free.

(Sean's POV)

Jack is sunburned.

Not bad — just his nose and the tops of his ears, the places I forgot to reapply sunscreen after lunch. Hannah notices before I do. She dabs aloe on his face with her fingertip while he squirms and giggles, and I think, not for the first time, that she's good at this. The small things.

We're on day two at the beach house. Jack wants to stay the whole week. Hannah doesn't seem to mind. She made pancakes this morning — chocolate chip, the thick ones — and Jack ate four. I told him he'd get a stomachache. He didn't get a stomachache. He ran outside and did cartwheels in the sand.

My phone rings while I'm pouring coffee. Alexander.

"Sir, I need to ask you something about Rebecca."

I set the pot down. "What about her?"

"She's back at the office. I wanted to check — should I be keeping you updated on her activity, or—"

"Alexander." I lean against the kitchen counter. Through the window, I can see Jack chasing a seagull. "What did I tell you when she started?"

A pause. "That she's to be treated like a regular employee."

"And?"

"And that I don't need to report to you unless there are special circumstances."

"Is there a special circumstance?"

Another pause. Longer this time. Alexander is choosing his words, which means he wants to say something I won't like.

"No, sir," he says finally. "No special circumstance."

"Then I don't need a report. Is there anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Good."

I hang up. Something about the call sits wrong — the way Alexander hesitated, the weight in his voice. But Alexander overthinks things. It's what makes him good at his job and exhausting on weekends.

Hannah comes inside, sandy feet on the tile. "Who was that?"

"Alexander. Checking in about Rebecca."

"Oh." She tucks her hair behind her ear. "She's back?"

"At the office."

Hannah leans against the doorframe. She has this way of standing — one shoulder against the wood, arms folded loose, head tilted — that makes her look like she's thinking about something deeper than what she's about to say.

"Sean, since Rebecca's back — should we head home? She might overthink if she comes back and you and Jack aren't there."

I think about it for a second. "No, we're fine. Jack's having a good time. We'll head back when he's had enough."

"Are you sure?"

"She's at the office, Hannah. She's working. If she needed us, she'd call."

Hannah nods. "I just don't want her to feel like—"

"She won't. Rebecca knows where we are."

Except she doesn't, actually. I didn't tell her we were going to the beach. But that's fine — she was at Connie's, and then she went to work, and she's busy with whatever she's busy with. We'll all be home in a day or two and it'll sort itself out.

Jack comes barreling through the door, sand falling off him like snow. "Daddy, I found a crab! Come look! Aunt Hannah, come look!"

Hannah laughs and follows him out. I watch them go. Jack grabs her hand and drags her toward the water, pointing at something in the shallows.

I pour my coffee and take it outside. The sun is warm. Jack is laughing.

The envelope on my desk at home crosses my mind for half a second. I should probably open it when we get back.

I take a sip of coffee. It doesn't taste right. Too bitter, not enough milk. I drink it anyway because it's the only thing I can get.