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the past two weeks. I feel apprehensive and anxious. All I can think about is the fact that I’m never going to see him again. Ever. I feel sad and displaced, overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of loss and profound emptiness. I can’t explain it and all I know is that I don’t want the morning to come.
    Needless to say, the sleepless night takes a toll on me the next day. I can’t shake this feeling of melancholy. Nothing feels right. I’m tense and agitated. Many times during the day I walk past the conference room to catch a glimpse of him pacing around the table, organizing his binders, packing them up in boxes. I don’t make an effort to stop by to engage him in conversation. In fact, I avoid him the entire time, making sure to keep my door closed as a sign that I don’t want to interact with anyone. I’ve never felt this way before. The need to have him in my life, even if just as a friend… this connection, this longing… it’s completely foreign to me.
    Later on that evening, I sit on the floor and stare out the window. I haven’t spoken to him all day. I don’t know how to approach him, how to say goodbye. I hear the converging sound of footsteps, but I don’t move from where I am. Quietly, he enters my office and shuts the door behind him. I watch him come closer from the reflection on the glass.
    “Jade.”
    “Do you ever wonder what their stories are? Those people crossing the bridge, walking back and forth across the river?”
    “I don’t know, I don’t have this view from my office,” he says lightheartedly.
    I don’t say anything and we let a few seconds of silence pass between us.
    He sits down on the floor right next to me. “Where do we go from here, Jade?” he asks sadly, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his arms.
    “We finish the report and go on with the merger.” I turn to face him. “You’ll go on to earn fifteen million dollars from this and be a very rich and happy man.”
    “I don’t want you to worry about us. It’s not over. I’ll be back.”
    “I’m not worried.”
    “Yes, you are.” He moves next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here.”
    I resolve not to give those words any credence. They can’t be anything more than empty promises. There’s no use in prolonging this. Whatever it is.
    “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”
    “Oh God, do you think that, really?” he says in irritation. “You really don’t know, do you?”
    “Know what?” I ask, taken aback by the change in his attitude.
    “How enthralling you are, Jade. How intriguing and soulful and utterly sexy you are. You don’t see what other people see in you. That’s what makes you so special. You don’t use this—” he pauses to sweep his arms up and down as if tracing me from head to toe, “as leverage. You see it as a burden when it shouldn’t be.”
    “So you’re psychoanalyzing me now, young man?” I say in a stern but amused tone. I want him to remember our age difference. This will never work.
    “Jade?” he mutters, tilting my head upwards so that our eyes are locked together.
    “Hmm?”
    “I’m going to kiss you now.” His lips touch mine ever so lightly at first, increasing in pressure as he firmly holds my head in place. As I open up willingly to him, they turn heated and overpowering. “You are so enticing,” he whispers, lightly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before holding my face in his hands.
    For the first time in years, I forget that I’m broken. I feel shiny and new. Loved and desired.
    If only for a few brief seconds.
    I know right here and now that nothing will ever be the same for me. I’ve ventured into new territory. The high from a touch that cures the deepest of wounds… it will never leave me. I will never recover from this.
    “Luke, stop!” I cry out, jerking my head back to release his hold on me. “The deal isn’t done yet. We can’t do this.”
    It