Page 38 of Last First Date

"She didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't say she did."

"If that guy said anything, it's not true," she said. "Waverly was very professional. She didn't do anything. In fact, I think she handled him a lot better than I would have."

I exhaled, feeling the weight of the situation. "I know," I said. "I have a lot on my plate. I need a dedicated assistant."

Marcy stared at me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, trying to piece the puzzle together. But she didn't have all the pieces.

"But—"

"We're not going to discuss it further," I said, my tone final. "Let's talk about the event."

We went over the highlights of the event. When she left the office, I got the impression she was pissed at me as well. I was making friends left and right.

My day drudged on, a series of meeting after meeting. None of which made me feel any better. I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples as I looked at the stack of documents needing approval on my desk.

The office was unusually quiet, the only sounds being the occasional rustling of paper and the distant hum of conversation. Waverly wasn't around, probably in some corner dealing with her other duties. I wasn't an idiot. She was avoiding me. This was her way of punishing me. She was showing she had the control. It pissed me off, but I had no one to blame but myself.

I found myself missing her presence. This was ridiculous. A tap at the door made me glance up and I was momentarily mad that it wasn't Waverly. Marcy stood in the doorway, her sharp eyes softened with understanding.

"I have the layouts for you," she said softly. The files landed on my desk with a soft thud and she turned to leave without another word.

At least she was acting like I was the boss. "Thanks," I said.

"I'll send the list of confirmed vendors," she said.

The door shut once again. I had never felt so alone.

17

WAVERLY

Iwiped the sweat dripping from my brow, my legs still pumping the spin bike. I didn’t know why I tortured myself like this. I was hoping a spin class would help ease the frustration.

The music blasted through the speakers, the instructor's voice egging us on. It didn't help. Sweat trickled down my face and onto the handlebars as I pushed myself harder, hoping the exertion would make me forget about everything. Janie was the instructor for the class. She only looked sweet and innocent. She was a damn drill sergeant. "Come on, Waverly! Push it! I know you can do it!"

"I'm going to kill you, Janie!" I shouted back, half in jest. She responded with a wicked grin.

When the class finally ended, I was drenched in sweat and my legs felt like jelly. But it felt good. I had worked off some of that frustration that had been plaguing me the last couple of days.

It seemed a little unfair that I could bust my ass just as hard as the other ladies in the class and they all had cute little perky butts and no matter how much I rode that bike to nowhere, my ass was still the bubble butt it had been since puberty.

I showered at the gym and headed to my favorite coffee shop with Janie. I needed caffeine if I was going to survive the rest of the day.

As I sipped my triple shot latte, my mind drifted back to work. This job was becoming far more complicated and stressful than I was prepared for.

"So, tell me what has you so upset," Janie said.

"Nothing."

"You're a horrible liar," she said with a laugh. "You never want to take one of my spin classes unless you're upset about something. Is it your mom or the job?"

"Both," I confessed.

"Tell me what happened," she said.

"Let's see. Knox took away the project I've been working on. When I confronted him about it, he kissed me."