Page 16 of Tell Me Something

“So she should lie?” The question was posed innocently enough, but I could feel an edge to it.

“I guess it depends on how close she is to him. If she sees him often and is a friend, I guess you’re right. She shouldn’t lie. But if he’s some random guy she’s met on a work trip or only sees sometimes, then…”

“It’s not a lie if she doesn’t know him?”

Uh-oh. I was failing whatever test he was giving me. “I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is sometimes a white lie is better than hurting someone’s feelings.”

He seemed to acknowledge the difference but pressed on. “And if he’s someone she sees every day? What then?”

“Well, I guess maybe Carmen first needs to figure out if she’s been giving Jose mixed signals.”

His brow arched, and I felt like a foolish teenage girl. Perhaps I had misunderstood him when I’d been drunk.

“Or maybe Jose figures out that Carmen was just being nice, and he was misinterpreting the situation. In that case, Jose simply needed a reality check.” I couldn’t maintain eye contact as I laid out that depressing scenario.

“I didn’t mean—”

Thankfully, he was unable to finish his thought because Nigel came in.

God, I was humiliated. “Mr. Singer, can I pick you up anything for lunch since you’re back early?” I was on my feet, gathering my purse and trying to act nonchalant.

Josh gave little indication that he heard me, and Nigel just looked between us.

“A sandwich would be fine, Haylee, thank you. Nigel, if you would call Alan from accounting up here, I’d like a few minutes with him.”

“Yes, of course,” Nigel said while our boss went back behind closed doors.

“I guess I should ask what kind of sandwich he likes.” I turned toward Nigel, hoping he wouldn’t read anything into the awkwardness he’d walked in on.

He only smiled and handed me a three-page, typed-up document. “Everything personal is in here, but do me a favor and don’t let our boss see it, all right?”

Nodding, I tucked it into my purse.

A BLOCK down the street at the post office, I had to wait in line. By the time I was done setting up my PO box, half my lunch hour was gone. At least I had some interesting reading. I skimmed over the basics of the personal document Nigel had handed me and honed in on the surprises.

Thirty-two years old. Doesn’t drink soda. Cigarette brand was Marlboro Red Box. Holy crap, he was a smoker. I hadn’t noticed, so he must take care with the smell on his clothing. I was disappointed but moved on and read that he worked out three times per week with a trainer doing mixed martial arts. His various charities were listed as well as his personal properties, which included the condo in New York and a house in Charlotte, North Carolina.

The second page listed his pet peeves. Laziness, gossip, insincerity, rudeness, pettiness, and dishonesty. I could talk with the man for ten minutes and figure that out. Musical tastes included country music. Huh, didn’t see that one coming. Wasn’t a fan of dance clubs or loud music and DOES NOT DANCE. Okay that was in all shouty-capital letters, so it must be nonnegotiable.

The final page was a number of topics not to bring up.

Marriage, dating, and relationships in general. Well, I’d only flirted and not actually brought up any of that.

Money and finances. Well, at least I hadn’t done that.

His smoking. Ah, so it was a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy, then.

Quickly scanning the rest of it, I found food preferences and accordingly ordered him a club sandwich with an iced tea. I got myself a soup and Diet Coke.

After I arrived back at the office, Nigel motioned that I could just go into Josh’s office with the food since our boss was busy on the phone.

I walked in quietly.

His back was turned, and he was looking out the window, but when I set his lunch down, he turned around.

His eyes met mine. “Chelsea, I’ll call you back.”

And just like that, I was front and center, wishing I wasn’t.