Time stands still. Did I just—?
Kill me now, I did.
I slap a hand over my mouth, my face on fire for a different reason. Mr. Mitchell’s eyes widen in surprise, and the room is so quiet it seems like everyone is holding their breath.
My hands move to my cheeks, but I really want to cover my eyes and hide behind my palms. “I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
Someone covers a snicker with a cough.
“I meant to saywhat a lovely compliment, thank you, and it came out all wrong and instead I saidI love you. Of course, you know that because you’re sitting right here and heard it.” My gaze sweeps the room. Everyone is staring at me. My hands are shaking. I cackle a nervous laugh. “I don’t love you, obviously. Not that you don’t seem like a perfectly nice man, but we just met. I mean ... umm...”
Someone save me from this mortification.
Jeremy rises from his seat at the middle of the conference table. Every hair is in place, his shirt appears to have been ironed, and his brown leather loafers even look like they’ve been shined. His put-togetherness makes a neon sign of awkwardness flash above my head.
“Why don’t I show him the website options?” He holds out his hand.
Keri wags her head at me, mouthing the wordDon’t.
But I can’t come back from this. It’s not possible.
In defeat, I hand over the remote clicker and sit down, slouching even. Jeremy can easily walk Mr. Mitchell through some of the websites we’ve designed in the past and talk to him about content—especially the role of search engine optimization, usability, aesthetics, visibility, and the importance of interaction.
In the meantime, I’ll sit here and do exactly what Keri told me not to—relive my faux pas and punish myself for my idiocy. I can’t help but think that if only I were a better Christian, I wouldn’t be having these issues.
6
You havegotto be kidding me.
My fingers strain, spinning the cardboard toilet paper dispenser. A single thin strip of paper about two inches in length comes off at my tug. Not nearly enough to do the job.
I strain farther, spinning the roll in vain.
Useless.
I sit up and look around, but there isn’t a spare roll hiding in the stall anywhere.
My kingdom for three-ply!
I can’t even text Keri to come snag me a few squares from the neighboring stall because my pencil skirt doesn’t have pockets, which means I don’t have my cell phone.
And I’ll become a skeleton perched on a porcelain throne before I yell and hope someone hears me through the walls.
My mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. My name is on the tips of enough tongues. I just want to go home and forget that today ever happened. Not that I can. I’ll be reliving and berating myself for my verbal slip-up for the rest of my life.
“Don’t worry about it,” Keri had tried to reassure me earlier. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Not that bad? I told him I love him.”
She grinned. “He wasn’t offended or anything. In fact, I overheard him joking with Sofiya about it.”
I groaned.
“Stop beating yourself up. Don’t blow the morning out of proportion. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Except it feels like failure, and failure is a big deal. Not only that, but I can’t figure out how to react to Jeremy taking over. On one hand, he rescued me when I was drowning in mortification. At the time, I’d wanted nothing more than to dissolve into the wall and disappear. But what were his motives? Was he being nice? A good guy? Or was he taking advantage of my weak moment and swooping in for the kill, proving he should get the promotion instead of me?
I hate that I even consider such a thing, and last week I wouldn’t have. I’d probably have noted the incident in my ongoing mental list of why Jeremy Fletcher is such a great guy. But things have changed, haven’t they? And that change is making me look at the situation from an angle I never would have before.
