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“Babe, you’re veering off topic. I don’t want feminist ideals. I want filthy details. Focus for me,” she teased.
“He’s the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. And to have to work with him, to direct this project when he is so contrary and so stubborn and just wants his own way—”
“You… realize you just described yourself, right?” she asked.
“Keep talking trash, I won’t tell you the good stuff,” I shot back, and she laughed.
“Okay, fine. You’re very flexible and easy to work with. You’re practically an angel on earth. Is that better?”
“Much better,” I laughed and took a drink.
“Back to the pain with the great ass,” she said, steering the conversation back to Noah.
“What?” I said, “He’s doing a decent job considering the setbacks we’ve faced on the project. His attitude hasn’t improved. So if you expected him to turn into a big old teddy bear once I got to know him, that ship has sailed,” I said.
“But you’re not describing him as a knuckle-dragging caveman anymore. So something must have changed. Confess,” she said.
“Are you suggesting I’ve compromised my professional ethics?” I asked coolly.
“You bet I am. I’m suggesting that you compromised those ethics on your desk and the wall and the chairs and any other surface you could find. If that man gave you half a chance, knowing how you look at him, you’d climb him like a tree.”
“That is not what it was like!” I said hotly.
“Gotcha,” she said smugly and took a drink of her margarita.
“You should ditch the librarian thing and become a lawyer. That was some courtroom level shit. I can’t believe I walked into that one.”
“I can. For a planner, you have a short fuse.”
“Organizational skills don’t necessarily indicate good emotional control, okay?” I asked. “I wish they did. Because I should never have gone near him. He got under my skin the night of the fire. That’s when it happened.”
“Are you saying it only happened one time? I’m disappointed. I underestimated both of you if once was enough,” Michelle said ruefully.
“It’s just not a good idea,” I said with some measure of finality.
Michelle shook her head and looked at me over the rim of her glass. “Listen, I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” I said, without as much conviction as I’d tried for. “Look, hooking up was nice and all, but I don’t have time to deal with a neanderthal with an ego the size of South Carolina.”
Michelle laughed and I narrowed my eyes at her. “What?” I asked.
“Just that you talk about his ego a lot for someone who has one of her own,” she noted.
“It’s not ego if there’s a good reason for it. I have a successful track record going back ten years as a project manager, an assistant urban planner, and finally as a city planner.”
“So how come you ended up here?” she teased.
“You know why. I had to have someplace to pick up the pieces and put my life back together. I have no intention of making the same mistake again. I have my eyes on the prize. After this community center is a success, I’ll have job offers from all over the eastern seaboard. It’ll take perhaps six months to a year after the facility opening before we see meaningful numbers on senior outreach, tutoring, enrichment participation, farmer’s market booth rentals and revenue increases—once I have a good data set, I can write my own ticket to a bigger city with bigger issues to solve.”
“Are you saying you won’t miss eating at the diner with me and Trix?” she asked.
“Of course, I will. And we’ll visit back and forth. We’ll FaceTime cocktail hour and stuff. This was never a permanent move for me. No offense, but sleepy little Rockford Falls was not my ultimate destination. I love you and Trix. I love a lot of things about this place. I may even get a cabin out by the falls for a vacation place one of these days, come back and visit. But I want to see what I can do in a bigger venue on my own. Where no one can say some more experienced administrator took me under his wing so he could take credit for my achievements,” I said a little bitterly.
“He did a number on you. Speaking of numbers,” Michelle said. “How many times did you and Noah do it? I’m going to need specifics. Like, penetrative p-in-v three times, oral twice, and then name the positions. I’m a lonely librarian. I wear cardigan sweaters and fantasize about Chris Evans. Throw me a bone here, sister,” she said.
“There is no scorecard. If there were, I’d never read it out to you,” I insisted.
“I’ve known him most of my life. He was a couple years ahead of me in school. He ran track and played basketball, basically could get any cheerleader he wanted to,” she said.
