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Maybe it’s wishful thinking.
Either way, I’m thoroughly confused.
“No, baby girl, I’m not suggesting anything. I’m simply saying what’s meant to be will be. You can’t stop fate. You might as well not fret about things you can’t change or avoid.”
“I don’t like that saying.”
“Tough, buttercup. It’s all true.” She laughs. “Either you two will learn to keep your distance and everything will be fine, or it won’t.”
“None of this is reassuring, Mom,” I groan, pulling a pillow over my head.
“Who knows, Raven. You could even find that you aren’t supposed to stay away from each other. Maybe thisisfate drawing you together.”
My thoughts are already too cluttered with warring emotions. I don’t even want to begin to consider that.
“Unlikely.” It’s all I say, hoping to drop the conversation. “Thanks for listening to me. I better get to bed.”
“Get some rest. Call me tomorrow.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“You, too,” she says before the line goes quiet.
I slink my way to my bed, not bothering to get undressed. My body is heavy, my head swimming.
Despite my state of drunkenness, sleep doesn’t come easily.
Between the alcohol and thoughts of Charles, my mind refuses to shut off.
If only I didn’t care about this job. I’d call off and avoid him altogether.
There’s too much to do, and I’ve never been one to run away from my problems.
I’m not about to start now.
23
Raven
Not even coffeecould rectify my zombie personality the next day. Walking slowly into my office, bags under my eyes, thoroughly disheveled, I am literally aWalking Deadcast member.
Nightmares about hooking up with your boss in the office will do that to a person.
I pulled myself together in fifteen minutes, having to run out the door to catch the subway, but didn’t make it on time.
There was a moment when I thought I might scream out loud for everyone to hear. The anger and frustration mounting on my shoulders weighed me down, threatening to spill over.
I had to wait for the next ride and barely made that because I’d been too distracted. If I were a smart girl, I would’ve called it a day and crawled back into bed.
My white blouse is wrinkled, and my navy blue skirt is a tad shorter than I’d typically wear to work. I’d been half-asleep when I’d pulled it from the closet, so I’ll spend the entire day pulling it down, self-conscious and full of self-loathing.
Somehow, I manage to tamp down the emotions and pull myself together.
Not wanting to be seen, I slink into my office and shut the door, throwing myself into my work. It motivated me to get here, and it will get me through the day. I work for over an hour before the events from the night before creep in.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake my mom’s words about fate and the story about her and my father’s meeting. I’d never put too much stock into things of that nature, but I couldn’t negate the fact that everything that had occurred with Charles and me had seemed too implausible to be anything less than fate.
Not that I believe Charles and I are meant to be. We’re not. We can’t be.
