Damsel Under Stress (Page 124)

But I didn’t think I could brush off Owen that easily. I needed to let him know what was going on. No, what I had to do was end things definitively. What were we going to do, maintain a long-distance relationship between New York and Texas? While the idea of him pining for me and us keeping in touch via phone and the occasional weekend visit was fun to contemplate in a pink-tinged, romantic way, it sort of defeated the purpose of me removing myself from the potentially problematic situation. If we were still together in any way, I might still be in danger, and I’d still be a distraction.

I mustered up every ounce of resolve I possessed, even borrowing on future reserves of resolve, and marched straight to Owen’s lab, mentally rehearsing what I’d say as I walked. Then some of my resolve wavered when the only person there was Jake, who was poring over an old book with a magnifying glass. “Is he in?” I asked.

“Meeting with Mr. Lansing,” he said without looking up. “He just left. It could be awhile.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks. I can’t stay that long, but I’ll leave him a note.” I hated to admit how relieved I was. I knew that telling Owen in person was the right thing to do, but I wasn’t sure I could have gone through with it when I was actually looking at him. Just imagining the hurt I was sure I’d see in his gorgeous blue eyes was enough to almost make me turn around and tell Merlin I’d changed my mind. Leaving a note was probably the best way to handle things so I could be clear about what I was doing and still maintain my resolve.

I went into his office, found a blank piece of paper in the mess on the desk, and wrote him a terse note about how I didn’t see a way things could work out between us with everything else that was going on. “You have a job to do,” I wrote, borrowing from the ending of his favorite movie so that maybe he’d understand what I was trying to do. “What you’ve got to do, I can’t be any part of—not without getting in the way.” I hesitated over giving him my contact information back home, then decided not to. If he wanted to track me down, he knew enough people who’d know how to reach me, and leaving the info would make it look like I was hinting for him to track me down. I ended the note with an exhortation to beat the bad guys, wished him the best of luck, then signed it, threw it in an empty envelope I found on the floor under his desk, and sealed it before I could change my mind. I wrote his name on the outside of the envelope and left it in his chair, where I was sure he’d see it.

Then I went over to the cubicle he’d built for me and gathered my few office belongings. I left my laptop on my desk and filled my computer bag with my desk calendar, coffee mug, and the other little things I’d kept on my desk. “I’ll tell him you stopped by,” Jake said as I passed him on my way out.

“Thanks. And let him know there’s a note on his chair.”

And then I walked out of the building one last time, my head held high. To be totally honest, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of myself for going through with my noble sacrifice in the name of the greater good. The world was a crazier place than most people realized, and in the grand scheme of things, my problems didn’t add up to much. I could practically hear the stirring music swell on the soundtrack as I let myself disappear into the fog of the crowds on the sidewalk.

After all, we’d always have Manhattan.