Page 45 of Meant to be Mine

“Right,” Hollis said. “I’ve got a friend. Gorgeous girl. Let me set you up. It’ll help get your mind off things.”

I shook my head and drank my beer. “I don’t want to go out on a date with someone else.”

“You haven’t gone out with anyone in a while,” Micah said. “It would give you clarity.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m not going to run out and date someone else. What if Kensey does want something? I don’t want her to think last night was nothing.”

They both laughed.

“Then you need to talk to her,” Micah said.

“I know,” I sighed. “But I’m going to give her some space.”

“And she’s still your assistant?” Hollis asked.

“Yes, if she doesn’t quit.”

I wasn’t ready to lose her personally and professionally.

16

KENSEY

Ipulled into the parking garage ten minutes early like the professional I was. The travel mug was in my hand as I climbed out of Mom’s car. She was allowing me to drive it since she rarely did. I gripped my mug like a life preserver. The coffee inside was strong enough to strip paint. I’d been drinking it since five thirty, which was when I’d finally given up on sleep entirely and gone downstairs. I managed to find three whole pieces in Mom’s puzzle.

I would have loved nothing more than to stay home again today. I didn’t technically need the job. But I had given my word, and at the very least, I was a responsible adult.

Except for the part that had me sucking my best friend’s cock. That was very irresponsible. And now it was time to face the music. I didn’t get to drop off the face of the earth.

The plan was simple. I had rehearsed it for the better part of yesterday. Act normal. Be breezy. Be the version of Kensey who showed up with muffins and made cross-eyed faces. That Kensey who was his friend. Not the one who’d been on her knees between his legs. That naughty girl was taking a seat and shutting up.

I walked to the elevator. Normal. Breezy. Professional.

The morning was already warm. Or maybe I was warm. The store was already humming. A few early associates were already stationed near the displays, adjusting and straightening to make sure everything was perfect.

I took the stairs up to the second floor. I was secretly hoping he would be the one to call in sick today. The fitting space from the other day had been restored to its usual configuration, the garment racks gone, the furniture back in place. It looked like none of it had happened, which felt a little bit like a metaphor.

His office door was closed. I had no idea if he was in there, but I hoped he wasn’t. And that was wrong. I went to the small desk that had been set up for me near the window and settled in, opening my laptop and focusing on work. I pulled up the master spreadsheet.

Most of the event items were green. Done. Completed. Crossed off. I started working through the remaining ones methodically. Vendor thank-you acknowledgments. Final invoice cross-referencing. A note to follow up with the magazine editor whose post had already generated significant traffic to the store’s website, according to the analytics Edith had forwarded this morning. I worked through it, keeping my eyes on the screen.

And then his office door opened. I kept my eyes on my laptop screen, but I could feel him looking at me. I couldn’t ignore him. That would be immature.

I looked up and was not prepared for what it would do to me. He was in a white button-up with the sleeves already rolled up. No jacket. His hair was neat. The stubble was there. He was holding a coffee mug and a folder and he was looking directly at me.

“Morning,” he said.

“Hey,” I said back.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Much better,” I said. “Sorry about yesterday. I think the late night just caught up with me.”

“No problem, completely fine.” He looked at the folder in his hand.

I looked at my laptop screen. The spreadsheet blurred slightly.

“If you have a minute, I need to go over a few things,” he said.