AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He takes my hand to help me up and just as quickly drops it. We’re not going to talk about the bizarro flash of disappointment that occurs when we walk not hand in hand back to the office.
By five thirty, I finish my edits and shoot them back to Mia. I hadn’t planned on finishing them today, but I was on a roll.
I stretch my arms overhead and crack my neck, my attention going over my laptop screen to Barrett. He’s hunched over his own laptop, leaning close like he’s attempting to crack an uncrackable code. The office is dark, everyone having left to tend to their assignments or clocked out for the day. There’s always someone here working late on a deadline. I guess today that someone is Barrett.
I shut down my laptop, tidy my desk for tomorrow, and then walk over to check on his progress. He doesn’t flinch, his fingers poised over the keyboard, his wrists glued to the edge of his desk.
“How’s it going?”
He jerks to attention, glassy eyes blinking.
“Hey, Kitty Cat.” His voice is slightly craggy. He must notice because he reaches for his water bottle and drains the scant few ounces left. “You outta here?”
“I’m done with the edits Mia gave me, and I jotted down a bunch of notes for the Hole in One date.” I shrug. “I’m ahead. I’ll start writing that column tomorrow.”
“Good. That’s good.” His eyes return to the screen, his shoulders resuming their hunchback position. I feel sorry for him. He’s obviously struggling. I glance at the screen and spot several corrections within the text, and a few comment bubbles from Mia off to the side.
“You know, sometimes it’s good to walk away for a while so that everything looks fresh when you come back.”
“Nah, I’m good.” He says this without moving a muscle.
“At least sit up straight in your chair.” I put a hand on his back. He recoils, sending me a glare. I snatch my hand away and instead reach for his water bottle. “I’ll refill this for you.”
The bottle is ripped from my hand and he’s on his feet so fast I’m practically eye to eye with him a millisecond later.
“I’ve got this, Kitty Cat. Go home.” His eyebrows are a pair of angry slashes, his mouth pulled into a frown.
“Fine. Be stubborn.”
He says nothing as I turn and huff to my desk. I’m aware that I’m huffing and truly wish I could stop. Once my bag is over my shoulder and I’m tromping through the dark office, I call over my shoulder “Enjoy your suffering!”
He doesn’t reply to that, either.
I tell myself I don’t care what he thinks or how hard he has to work, but it niggles at me on the drive home, while I shower, and when I pull on a casual pair of drawstring shorts and a baggy tee sans bra. It’s still there while I’m chopping lettuce for a late dinner salad, and when I uncork a bottle of pinot grigio.
“No wonder he doesn’t have any friends,” I grumble around a mouthful of spring mix lettuces. “Or a girlfriend,” I add before sipping my wine.
As if on cue, my cellphone rings. I let it chime for three full rings while deciding what to do about the caller. Curiosity wins.
“This is a surprise.”
“Catarina. How are you.” North’s inflection is flat. This isn’t a question but an extension of his greeting. Since he didn’t ask, I don’t answer.
“What can I do for you?” I feel a vague, but no less present hurt radiate through me. Not surprising, I suppose. We didn’t break up that long ago, though some days it feels like ages. My lingering anger is more muted than it should be. Why’d I stay? is my favorite question to ask myself lately.
“I wanted to check in.” His voice loses its edgy abruptness. “To see if you needed anything.”
“Like what? A gallon of milk? Loaf of bread?” I shovel the last bite of salad into my mouth and chew like a bored cow.
“Don’t be sarcastic. It’s displeasing.”
“It displeases you,” I say as I walk my salad bowl to the sink. “Oh, dear.”
“Are you in need of...companionship?”
I shut off the faucet. “Companionship?”
“Friendship?”
