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I swallowed and jerked my head back behind my computer. Asshole.
“I’ve got to go talk to creative about something,” I said.
“Thanks for the update, sweetie.”
“Don’t call me that. And I wasn’t updating you, I was just…” I paused at the door.
He waited, smiling.
“Shut up,” I snapped. I yanked open the door and slammed it behind me. The man was driving me crazy. To make matters worse, mother was done being dodged and was insisting on an official meet and greet at “my new place” in two days. On top of that, I was fairly certain Mrs. Glass herself was trying to set us up, even though it flew in the face of company policy.
I wandered through the office without any clear objective, other than to get some breathing room. It was impossible to focus when I was in the same room as him. I jumped when a woman I vaguely recognized from the advertising department approached me. She was in her twenties and pretty, with an oval-shaped face and big eyes. “Hi,” she said. “You’re Elizabeth, right?”
“Yes. Did you need something?”
The woman smacked her gum and chewed the corner of her lip. “This is going to sound super unprofessional, but I was wondering if you could help introduce me to Barry. Everyone says he shares an office with you. I mean, if you two are—well, you know—”
“Dating colleagues is strictly against company policy,” I snapped automatically. God, I sounded like such a boring robot, didn’t I? This was exactly why I didn’t have work friends.
She pulled her head back, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah, well, some things are worth losing your job. So, can you introduce us, or…”
“No,” I said. There was more annoyance and anger in my voice than I intended, but I rushed off, leaving the woman standing there with a miffed look on her face.
Unbelievable. I headed toward Mrs. Glass’ office. I needed to come clean. Maybe the solution had been staring me in the face all along. I would confess to Mrs. Glass that working with Barry was clouding my professional judgment. I could even admit we’d gone on some excursions that could maybe be viewed as dates. She’d strictly forbid me from continuing the relationship, and all the conflict would be gone.
I felt my mood lift.
“Hi Peggy,” I said to Mrs. Glass’ secretary. “I just need to speak with Mrs. Glass.”
“I think she’s on a personal call, sweetie. But you can try sticking your head in to let her know you’re here.”
I nodded and headed to the little waiting area outside Mrs. Glass’ office. I heard her raised voice before I was even at the door.
“...don’t know! I’ve got a life of my own. I can’t just—” There was a pause, then Mrs. Glass sighed loudly. “I know, Brandon. I know. I’m doing everything I can.” I hesitated. I wasn’t exactly the eavesdropping type, but it sounded like the conversation was almost over.
“You know I do. Why else would I be doing all this to try to help? The timing just isn’t—” There was another pause and then another sigh. “Of course I still care about you.”
I gritted my teeth, then stuck my head in her office and knocked twice on the door. I waved my fingers, wincing a little and smiling.
Mrs. Glass’ makeup was smeared, and her eyes were watering. She wiped them quickly and rushed to grab a tissue. “Yes, that sounds great,” she said, voice suddenly pure business. “I’ll mark it on my calendar. Great. Thank you.” She hung up, then took a deep breath and shook her head.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”
Mrs. Glass motioned for me to sit. “Only if you listen first. Let me tell you something, Elizabeth. Relationships are exactly like running a business. It’s hard work. Grueling. Painful. And there will be countless times where you question why you do it. But in the end…” She trailed off, eyebrows knitting together.
“It’s worth it?” I tried.
“Is it?” she asked, laughing bitterly. “You know, the real truth is you should listen to your heart, not your head. When your heart tells you a man is the one, listen to it. Ignore whatever your brain tries to tell you about him and why he shouldn’t be good enough. Because if you love with your brain, you’ll look back one day and realize your heart has shriveled up. What happens to muscles when they don’t get used? Atrophy,” she said, splaying her fingers and then closing them into a fist with a shrug.
Actually, I was pretty sure the heart would keep pumping blood and wasn’t really in danger of atrophy. But I supposed she was trying to speak in some kind of metaphor, so I nodded attentively. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to unload my problems on her. I’d never seen Mrs. Glass look this unhinged.
