I move the paper shielding the contents of the box from me, and ease onto the edge of the mattress to get a better look.
There’s a book on leadershipandsports psychology with a snarky Post-it: “For your next team meltdown.” I roll my eyes, but flick through the book. It’s written by a former NHL player turned sports psychologist, and it’s been on myto be readpile for a while. How did he know?
There’s a pack of gum with another note: “To loosen up your jaw before you talk to me next time.”
My pulse trips. The words shouldn’t sound like a whisper, but I hear them anyway—low, cocky, right against my skin in a Texan accent. I doubt talking to him is what he wants me to do with a loose jaw, but perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.
There’s a heat pack, to “Thaw your ice prince heart.” His words needle at a long-standing scab that’s picked at more regularly than I’d like. People assume because I’m quiet, because I watch and think before I speak, that somehow means I don’t have feelings.
A mini bottle of lube, “For your stick, obviously.” That makes me chuckle, because we both know this strawberry flavored lube doesn’t belong on hockey sticks.
Out of place in the box is a small, brown teddy bear—with a nametag hanging from his foot sayingBeartemis—which strikes me in the chest more than the rest. It’s thoughtful, soft, and in mythology Artemis is often associated with bears. Was this deliberate? Did he look this up? Or was it a knee jerk idea to put a stuffed animal in the box for me?
While I mull over the questions in my mind, I take in the piece de resistance, a six-pack of boutique cinnamon rolls frommy favorite bakery in Minnesota. Ares definitely played a part in the composition of this care package. A: He knows I’m not putting this kind of crap in my body. It took all my strength to keep my pizza intake to a two-slice max tonight. B: He knows where to find my favorite cinnamon rolls. And C: He knows they’re one of a very select few things that’ll make my self-control waver enough to take a bite.
Whether it’s from the cinnamon roll, or Xavier, is yet to be determined.
The smell of cinnamon and sugar permeates the room as I click on his name and type out a reply.
Artemis: Nothing much to write home about.
I delete it and try again.
Artemis: Thanks for my gift.
Nothing feels right under my fingers, so I say nothing.
I shouldn’t take a bite of the delicious frosting-covered treat. I shouldn’t even want to. But the first taste ruins me. It’s sweet, sinful, and exactly like him. My self-control never stood a chance.
CHAPTER 8
Artemis
Thetin of cookies waits, smug and silver. I swear it’s breathing cinnamon. Every time I look up, it’s there—like Xavier left a piece of himself on my desk just to test me.
To be honest, I’m not sure whether it’s a test I want to pass or fail.
Seven days since that stupid teddy bear—Beartemis—arrived. He’s now looking as smug as his sender in my mind’s eye, sitting on his throne of judgment on the corner of my desk.
Seven days since I tore through six cinnamon rolls, the frosting clinging to my lips like guilt.
Seven days of sweating it out, pretending carbs and feelings can be burned off the same way.
Spoiler alert: they can’t.
My self-control is unraveling like when my brother’s black cat, Puck, gets his paws on a roll of toilet paper.
It’s been a week of late nights, early mornings, changing from college wear for school, to business attirefor board meetings, and workout gear to sweat out not only the carbs and sugar Xavier enabled me to consume, but my feelings as well.
I’d love to say I’m over it. That I’ve set my hard, solid red-line boundary and my softer, dashed red-line boundary, but I haven’t been able to get his overconfidence out of my mind.
Which has led me here, to my office at 2:30AM on a school night.
I finished next week’s econ paper. Macro? Micro? Honestly couldn’t tell you anymore.
I’ve signed my name to a dozen documents for work, not just for the acquisition of the new company, but for the day-to-day of my portfolio. Thank the goddesses for my assistant, Claudia. When she and I decided to date for both of our benefits, she saw the state of my office and locked herself in here for two days until she could make sense of the shit storm that is my business life.
I have an army of VPs to handle the day-to-day, but I needed someone I actually trusted to organize the chaos of my personal executive office.
