“I’ll email you the details after I get back to my office.” He tips his head and points past me. “Excuse me, I see the chief of staff waving me over.”
“Of course.”
He walks away.
“I love cake day!” JoJo appears beside me with a half-eaten piece of cake in her hand.
I gape. “How do you already have cake? We haven’t served it yet.”
“Never underestimate the power of the bat of my brown eyes and flash of my cleavage,” she sasses and licks frosting off a plastic fork.
An added benefit of working at Walters is my West Coast bestie also works here. While I’m in hospital management, JoJo serves as a social worker in our outpatient clinic. JoJo jokes that she spends ninety percent of the day helping connect families with resources and the other ten percent pilfering snacks from breakrooms and department birthday celebrations. This is not at all true. She exerts a hundred percent of her energy for patients, which is why I look past her snack thievery.
“Shouldn’t you and your questionable workplace cleavage be in our outpatient clinic?” I tease, bumping my hip against hers.
“I’m on lunch break.” She bumps me back. “Also, I needed to come officially congratulate you.”
A secrecy oath always comes with a bestie clause in my book. While nobody else knew, I immediately told Trina and JoJo after Jamal told me. Our group chat lit up with so many spelled-out excited face emojis from JoJo and links for sales to update my “boss babe” wardrobe from Trina.
“It’s still surreal. Like I knew what was about to happen but didn’t let myself believe it until I heard the other department heads clapping after the announcement.”
Shetsks. “I couldsosocial work you right now for the ‘I don’t believe good things can happen to me’ subtext of that statement, but instead, let me just celebrate you.”
I roll my eyes.
“Just four weeks and you’ll be the boss,” she whisper-squeals.
Heat invades my cheeks.
“You deserve it, lady.” She loops her arm around my shoulder. “Especially after the week you’ve had.”
“I’m over it.” With a firm smile in place, I join in the claps for Bobo’s kazoo version of Pharrell’s “Happy”.
“Are you?”
I shrug.
It’s been my mantra since Saturday. If I repeat it enough, perhaps, it will come true. After consoling myself with half a pan of brownies, I left behind eating my emotions about Rowan and the article. Channeling Aunt Bea, I put on my smile. If I smile hard enough, my heart may believe it.
“You still haven’t heard from him?” JoJo murmurs.
“Nope.” I plaster a grin on and turn my attention to the children scampering towards the table where volunteers are ready with cake. “Nor do I expect to.” I pivot and head out the door.
JoJo shuffles behind me in her pink ballet flats. “What we expect and what we want are two different things.”
“What Iwantis to forget Rowan Iverson.”
“But you two–”
“Trauma-bonded and got caught up in all the feelings, nothing more.” I glance around the empty hall but lower my voice to a hissed whisper. “It’s over. Everyone is a winner. I got an orgasm and three major news outlets did stories on universal design, and he gets to play the hero for the helpless blind girl.”
JoJo’s expression falls. “Oh, Pen.”
“It’s fine.” Spinning on my heels, I move down the hall toward the elevator.
I may have called Miguel and answered his questions, but the story was never for me. It was solely for Rowan. After the internet Rowan Iverson rabbit-hole I fell into Saturday night, I have two theories. One, what happened between us was genuine but induced by the almost-crash. The moment we hit reality, he freaked. Whether it was from his own fears about relationshipsor Emma Sinclair, the actual Victoria’s Secret model who was linked to him until this past January…I have no idea.
What I do know is that he dumped me after landing in reality, and he’s not coming back. No matter what the still crush-sick girl inside me clings to, this isn’t one of my romance audiobooks.
