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COREY: TODAY
(Present Day)
San Francisco, California
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I TOSSED BACK A SHOTof espresso and stared at my digital task-board.
Everything I needed to accomplish was complete. There were no files that needed last minute attention, no meetings that needed to be scheduled, and no correspondence that needed to be sent.
On any other day, I would’ve left the office and spent the rest of my day at home, but with Hayley on campus, that changed everything. I knew she would come down to my office in a couple of hours to join me for lunch, and I knew we’d take my car to a private parking lot after work to pick up where we’d left off in the garage this morning. Still, we were just starting this phase of our relationship, and I felt as if it was going to eventually become stagnant if it remained a secret for too much longer.
I wanted her on my arm in public, I didn’t want to have to lie to my best friend about being with her, and I wanted to be the type of guy she’d always deserved.
Sighing, I pulled out my phone and typed the email I’d been dreading all morning.
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SUBJECT: RAINCHECKon the next date?
I didn’t realize your brother was treating his senior staff to the same place—on the exact same weekend, that I was planning to take you. (I found out earlier this week)
I’ll make it up to you with another trip,
Corey
PS—I’ll be over tonight around nine o’clock.
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HER RESPONSE WAS IMMEDIATE. A simple, “I totally understand” with a smiley face.
I smiled back as if it was real and leaned back in my chair. I weighed the pros and cons of telling Jonathan for the umpteenth time—assessed the risks of telling him before or after the wedding. And then I mentally repeated what I would lead with, what would make him less angry about the situation.
I have feelings for Hayley, and I’m going to date her no matter what you say. Deal with the shit.
I want to date Hayley. Period. Get over it.
I’ve had feelings for Hayley since the moment she climbed through my bedroom window in the rain, and those feelings never went away despite the fact that you’re my best friend.
The last one was definitely the better option, but I doubted he would let me get a word after “feelings” out before punching me in the face.
“Mr. Walters?” Tillie stepped into my office.
“Yes, Tillie?”
“Two things. The florist wants to know if you want to extend your daily anonymous delivery for another month, and Mr. Statham wants to see you in his office. Something about a Meyer account?”
“Tell the florist yes, and tell Mr. Statham I’ll be upstairs in ten minutes.”
“Right away sir.”
I started to leave, but Tillie returned to my doorway.
“Yes, Tillie?”
“Sorry, there was a third thing,” she said. “You told me to keep track of whenever any of the executives booked one of the sites you picked for your next weekend getaway.”
