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I just have to wait her out.
Several hours later, I’ve returned home without a single word, text, or phone call from Jane. I knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose and told myself that I’d just chill the hell out.
There was something big and important going on at Leads Energy, something that I wasn’t a part of, would have no knowledge of, because I was the mail guy.
I shove the thought aside and check emails, a thrum of hope pulsing through me when I see a return email on one of the submissions for publication.
That hope quickly plummets at the rejection letter.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy, knew that getting published would take work and probably many, many rejections. But it was the culmination of the day, of the poem leading to hope, only to have the woman I was quickly falling for be too busy to speak, let alone tell me if this letter burning a hole in my pocket was from her or not. Then coming home to this…
Maybe I’d just chalk it up to a bad day.
Maybe tomorrow, Jane would talk to me about the poem I’d left for her and—hopefully—the one she’d left for me, and all would be right with the world again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I don’t care if it was by mistake or some stroke of fate, I just thank God that I’ve found my soulmate. And, my love, you were worth the wait…”
-S. Marie
Jane
A crap day on top of a crap day, on top of another crap day where I had been running around, trying to fix issues that actually were not my own doing.
I was exhausted.
Due to an intern not getting the contract to the mail room on time, our contract with a new ally had gone null and void and basically messed up weeks and weeks of work for me and the whole company. Unfortunately, that intern no longer worked at Leads.
Also, unfortunate, was that I had to spend every waking hour—of which there were many—at the office fixing this mess. It took a lot of negotiating, a lot of persuasion to get the company to agree to our original terms but we finally managed to get it done.
I had also only had a minimal amount of communication with Warren in the last week because of it. I was thankful that he let me work through this issue and didn’t make me feel guilty, but I was dying to talk to him.
I didn’t want to nag him, but I wanted to know if he got the poem I found on the internet—I would love to say I’m a poet, but it’s an absolute lie—but I wasn’t about to ask him about it over a text message.
I’d only been able to have a moment to myself when it was about midnight every night and the texts that I’d sent to Warren were sent long after he’d gone to bed, resulting in nice good morning texts and little other communication.
That changed today.
I was on a mission to finally have a moment with him today. I was ready for some normal, something that I’d thankfully been able to find with Warren.
Risking it all, I tracked him down to the mail room, not really caring right at this moment if someone saw me or questioned me looking for him.
Chalk it up to lost mail, not the desperation of a new girlfriend. No, never that.
I enter the busy room and find people rushing around, sorting and yelling across the room. I never thought a mail room would be so busy, but the evidence was in my face right here. Though we were a large company with over a thousand employees, if each of us even got one piece of mail, let alone two or three a day… yeah, they all needed a raise down here.
As I’m glancing around the room, my eyes snag on the man I’m looking for.
The smile on my face is immediate, and frankly, can’t be helped. But it drifts away when I see he’s leaning against the wall, his back to it, his arms crossed and chatting with what I can only assume is a coworker. A very pretty coworker at that. One with long red hair and hips for days. It doesn’t help when she makes him laugh at something and they both continue to animatedly talk to one another, clearly very into the conversation.
A white-hot streak of jealousy courses through me—something I’m not entirely used to—and I have a sudden daydream where I go over to her and yank her back by her pretty hair and step up to Warren, claiming him for all to see. It makes me feel gross.
I’m not that person and the woman talking to him wouldn’t deserve that. He’s a good-looking guy, he’s bound to draw attention. I let out a frustrated sigh and turn to leave. I’ll just head back to the office, give him a call or send a text and let him know I’ve got some time, so we can finally have a conversation.
I shake my head at my ridiculous behavior as I walk down the hallway to the bank of employee elevators. Just as the doors start to close, a hand sneaks in and holds them open. I startle and look up to see Warren’s wide gaze looking back at me. I don’t say anything, wondering if he saw me in there and then saw me get jealous, then ultimately, saw me leave.
He steps in, allowing the doors to close, his eyes never leave mine and I find myself stuck here. Stuck in his gaze, his orbit.
