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“Only for Paige’s benefit,” Tabitha says.
“I was serious,” Sawyer says.
“Shut up, Sawyer.” Grace’s tone is mild, and Sawyer grins.
“I didnotdeserve it, so thanks, everyone,” Paige mutters.
I’m not sure what to think or how to react, but I do have to fight the urge to both laugh and study Paige’s lip color more closely. I punt by glancing to Bill’s end of the table. “Would you pass the beets?” I ask. I hate beets, but it’s the only thing sitting right in front of him.
Paige decides we need a change in conversation too. “I’m helping Henry with a love project.”
“Excuse me?” says Noah, looking perturbed.
“He wants to date the goddess he shares an office with, and I’m helping him,” she says.
Noah relaxes.
“So there you go.” She sweeps a pointed glance around the table. “Not dating. In fact, I’m helping him date someone else.”
“Interesting,” Tabitha says. “What’s the plan? Shock and awe?”
Paige shakes her head. “I can’t tell you too much or he’ll get nervous, but this will be a gradual glow up.”
Grace nods. “Sneak attack. Nice.”
“I’m right here,” I say.
Tabitha glances at me. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Sawyer shakes his head. “Give up and give in, man. Your girl was one of them as soon as they met.”
“Not his girl,” Paige says.
She doesn’t have to say it like she’s insulted by the idea.
“So Henry has the Office Goddess. You got anything interesting going on in the romance department, Paige?” That’s Tabitha. I don’t think I like her, but also, I’m very interested in Paige’s answer. If there’s anyone paying her visits at her house, I haven’t seen any evidence of it. It’s good to know who might be hanging out next door. For reasons of . . . it’s just good to be aware, safety-wise? Yes. It’s good to be aware of my surroundings for safety reasons.
“The UPS driver keeps spending his lunch breaks in the store,” Bill says.
“Ooh, Mike?” Grace asks. “He’s cute. Something going on there, Paige?”
Paige shakes her head. “No. We went to lunch once, and he tipped poorly.”
Noah winces. “Dead man walking.”
I remember Paige referencing waiting tables. It’s easy to see why it would be a dealbreaker for her.
The conversation drifts into smoother waters after that. No, “drifts” is the wrong word. It speeds all over the place like a cigarette boat, but I keep up. Barely. In my head, anyway. I listen and don’t try to jump in. I learn more that way.
After everyone has had second and even third helpings, Bill declares it’s time for the men to clear the table and clean up.
“Not you,” Lisa tells me. “You’re a guest.”
I catch Noah’s eye and try to communicate my fear of being left alone with these women.
“Sorry, Lisa, but Henry ate, so he has to help clear the mess too.”
“I don’t mind,” I assure her, rising and reaching for the nearest plates. “I’m tidy by nature.” I try not to wince at the sound of my own words. I know I can be formal—even stiff. It’s my tendency, and I don’t worry too much about fighting it. But “tidy by nature”? For my next trick, I should pull out knitting needles and whip up a tea cozy.
