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Aiden: Have a good night’s sleep. See you soon, Aiden.
My brow creases as I exhale and frown. So not what I was hoping for, but at least he answered. My mind is now running a million miles a minute wondering whether Friday’s date is on or off.
“Urgh, men are so frustrating.” I switch my phone to silent. It’s a habit I gained from when I was with Jason. He would go out partying all night and drunk dial me with abusive tirades. To counteract it, I’d put my phone on silent. I wouldn’t even know he’d called until the morning when there would be a million drunk messages saying how much of a bitch I was. Then the next message would be how much he loved me.
The cycle never ended with him—it was one vicious thing after the other.
Awake most of the night, occasionally nodding in and out of consciousness, I think about what I should text Aiden in the morning. About my daydream in the shower. About Sarah and her new relationship with Chris. All these thoughts are running through my mind depriving me of sleep.
I finally fall asleep around five o’clock with a total of two hours of actual sleep before my alarm sounds.
As the Uber pulls up in front of work, I thank the driver. “I added a tip,” I chime with a smile. He curls up his lip, turning his head as if I’ve insulted him. “Jeez,” I say under my breath as I spin and make my way through the large sliding gates. I’m nearly to the office building’s front door when I see Mel pull into her usual parking space.
Mel’s a great boss. She’s older than me, probably in her late fifties, but she’s never actually told anyone exactly how old she is. Mel’s attractive, slim, and tall. She always wears designer glasses and keeps her red hair in a tight bun. She looks every bit the executive assistant to the owner of ADF Automotive Repair, who happens to be her husband, John. They are a great couple and have worked hard. They have four children—CJ, Amy, Jade, and Skye—who Mel says are ‘all grown up these days,’ but the youngest three still live at home. A picture of the four of them resting on her desk was taken with Santa when they were quite young.
She gets out of her car, and I greet her. “Morning, Mel.”
She smiles and nods her head with a coffee in one hand, her handbag and keys in the other, and envelopes in her mouth. I laugh at the sight as I walk over to help her.
“Need a hand?”
A muffled laugh escapes as I grab her keys and handbag freeing her hand to take the pink square envelopes from her mouth.
Walking inside together, I stop at the reception desk, and Mel proceeds to her office. I get ready for another day of work as a delivery truck pulls up outside the reception office. A man dressed in a green uniform strides in with a massive bouquet of flowers—gerberas, oriental lilies, and other little filler flowers in a lovely vase wrapped with ribbon and pink mesh. They’re amazingly beautiful. I smile as flowers always manage to brighten any day. When the delivery man walks in, I’m trying to remember if it’s Mel’s birthday.
“A delivery for a Miss Jenifer Taylor,” his tone is flat and monotone, but it still makes me do a double-take.
“Are you sure they aren’t for Melinda Starke?”
He looks at the information on his paperwork. “Nope. Definitely for Miss Jenifer Taylor.”
My skin tingles, and my belly flutters as a wave of happiness washes over me. I sign for the delivery in bewilderment trying to keep my excitement at bay.
What in the world is going on?
