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“Uh. Avery Patterson? She’s umm, she’s cleaning out her desk, Sir. I thought you’d let her go.”
It’s a terrible sound that comes from me. Whatever I’ve done, or whatever she even thinks I’ve done, I vow to never let this happen again.
Not with Avery, she’s too… She’s everything to me.
I know that now.
“I’m coming down there, Jason. Make sure Avery doesn’t leave. Have her wait in an office or someplace quiet, will you?” I finally manage. “I’ll need to go over a couple of things with you as well, but for now let’s just-”
He interrupts me. “She’s leaving. I just saw her walk by.”
“Then stop her dammit,” I yell, and slamming the phone down, I bound out of the office to the elevators, stabbing at buttons until one can take me down.
It’s the longest elevator ride of my life, and I struggle to keep my composer.
I know the whole office is going to be watching my every move. But right now, none of that hardly seems to matter.
I just want Avery back. I can’t let her leave. Not without seeing her first.
To my amazement, once I step out into the foyer, glancing into the office. Everyone’s at work.
The cubicles are all filled, with heads down and the quiet murmur of follow up phone calls, sales calls.
Business as usual.
I spot Jason, sweating by his office door and I motion him to come down to me.
“I have Ms. Patterson in a meeting room, this way, Sir,” he chimes quietly, the perfect professional.
No questions, only doing what he’s told. And I can see despite the announcements, it’s still business as usual.
Pausing at the meeting room door, I grab his shoulder. “Good work, Jason…”
I don’t know his last name either.
“Riggs, Sir. Jason Riggs,” he informs me, and I smile when I take his hand in mine.“District manager?” I ask and he nods.
“We’ll see about that,” I tell him. “Let’s just see what Santa brings, huh?”
“Yes Sir,” he almost shouts with enthusiasm as I let myself into the small meeting room.
It’s stuffy. Cramped and ‘modern.’ Nothing like the ambiance of the top floor.
Avery’s hugging her elbows, eyes down and shivering.
A box of what I assume is her work desk possessions in front of her.
I decide to try a different tact. Instead of scaring her to death by proclaiming my feelings, I think we really do need to get to know one another better first.
I’m not the easiest man to get along with. At least that’s what I overhear when people aren’t kissing my ass.
“Avery?” I ask gently, waiting until her eyes are on mine. “Let’s start over, okay? I don’t think you really want to quit your job do you?” I ask her.
I’m relieved when she shakes her head.
“And I don’t think you want to walk out without talking things over with me either,” I venture, hoping it’s not too much.
But she shakes her head again, gnaws on her lip, and starts to fidget with her hands, looking flushed and hot now instead of shivering cold.
As if the ice being broken is enough to give us both some more of that heat I sure know I felt upstairs just now.
“Whatever I did, Avery… however I upset you,” I start to say, but I know I’m wrong when her lip starts to quiver.
When she buries her face in her hands.
Hands I rush over to take into mine as I kneel down in front of her.
“It’s not you, Jack. It’s me,” she sobs. “All my life I’ve only had people tell me how I should lose weight, how I’d be prettier if I just did this or did that… but it’s always about my size,” she huffs, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Tears I want to catch with my lips, but I know she’s got so much to say.
I have no idea what she’s talking about. She’s perfect as far as I can tell, but I do know from some light reading that even the most attractive people have problems with their own beauty.
Her weight?
She’s the perfect size for me. I’m over six four and have hands bigger than hams. Stick thin, skeletal women, like that boss of hers, Angela. I’ve never understood that whole look. They look unwell or something, so thin and fragile.
“But, Avery,” I tell her gently, risking brushing back some of her hair. “You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t kidding when I said I want you. Want you to want me,” I tell her.
“Look at me,” I challenge her. “I’m forty, going gray, and probably have more wrinkles than you’ll ever have,” I kind of lie.
My own skincare regime is merciless.
The grays I can tolerate, but I do spend a lot of time keeping my skin looking fresh. It gives me an unspoken edge in the board room.
But Avery? She’s perfect, all over. I know that now. I can still taste her on my breath to thank god. Waiting for the moment she’ll let me do it all over again.
