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When I walk into my office, it takes a few moments of staring stupidly at my monitor before I remember I have work to do. I start shuffling through papers on my desk, trying to decide what to prioritize. I have to call Jeff back. A pink sticky note goes fluttering to the ground. I reach down to pick it up and freeze.
It’s the note Crew wrote. But the side I’m staring at is the sticky back. The side I didn’t think anyone wrote on.
Crew did.
And by the way, I love you. That’s what he wrote.
I stare at it for a minute, heart pounding. Then I pick up my phone and text him.
Scarlett:Who writes on the BACK of a sticky note???
Crew responds instantly. He must still be in the car.
Crew:I feel like that’s a rhetorical question.
Crew:Don’t feel bad I said it first.
Scarlett:You wrote it. Not the same thing.
Scarlett:I just saw it.
Crew:I figured that out halfway through our conversation, Red.
Scarlett:You were just going to drop the l-bomb and leave?!
Crew:Drop the l-bomb? How romantic.
Scarlett:Let me remind you the sentence started with “and by the way.” Hardly Hallmark material.
Crew:I’ll work on it.
Crew:I’m at the office.
Crew:I love you.
I smile like he can see me.
Scarlett:I love you too.
I take the pink sticky note and tape it to my monitor, back side facing toward me. And then I pick up the phone and call Jeff back.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
CREW
“We should focus on a stock options report,” Isabel suggests.
“Fine,” I agree. “If you talk through that, I can overview the projections analysis.” I glance at Asher, who’s sitting next to me. “You good?”
“I think I know the song and dance by now.”
“And Isabel and I don’t?”
Asher sighs. “I’m good.”
“Good.”
My phone buzzes with a text from Oliver, double-checking on dinner with our dad this weekend. I don’t blame him for making certain I’ll be there. My father told Candace the baby couldn’t be his after Scarlett and I left the chalet to see her dad. Candace admitted to lying about being pregnant, claiming my father wasn’t giving her enough attention. They’re in the midst of divorce proceedings now. I haven’t told Oliver our father knows about him and Candace, and my father hasn’t either, it appears. Hardly surprising. Unless it’s a dirty secret he can use, my father is happy to sweep anything unpleasant under the rug. Especially ones which can’t be bought off.
