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She looks at me, then places a hand gently on Sarah’s arm. ‘It’s okay, Sarah. I’m sorry. I misunderstood. I don’t know many people in the city, and I thought your note… I guess I thought it was an invitation to be friendly. I got it wrong. I’m sorry. Really sorry.’
She starts packing the chocolates on the table in front of her into a plastic tub. As she does, Sarah’s eyes shoot daggers at me. They’re no more painful than the daggers I feel in my gut when I notice Becky’s shoulders sag.
Sarah strides past me and out of the office, glaring at me as she goes. Becky picks up her bags and moves toward me, her head down, her eyes on the ground. That fiery temper I seem to be crazily addicted to is gone. I hate that I’m the reason for its disappearance. When she’s in front of me, I reach out to her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just have a lot going on. This is my workplace.’
The smile she gives me is obviously forced. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Those eyes, wide and truly entrancing. ‘You didn’t. This was my mistake. It won’t happen again.’
She heads quickly toward the elevators, and I look after her. That was the right thing to do. I can’t deal with her. A woman. I mean, I can deal with a woman, women. Just not her. Not now.
‘If that was the best way to handle that situation, why do you feel so shitty about it?’ Sarah is leaning back in her chair, judging me. Nailing my thoughts better than I can understand them myself.
Damn it.
I jog down the corridor and toward the elevators. As if Drew Harrington runs after women. Christ. When the car opens, Becky steps inside. I get there just in time to jam my hands between the doors and push them open. ‘Becky.’
As the doors move farther apart, I see two suited men in the elevator with her. One is an associate at the firm, whose face I recognize. The other is a junior partner in the Insolvency team. There’s no way I’m looking like a pussy in front of these men. I should have thought this through. I should have planned what to say. I should have expected other attorneys to be in the elevator.
Becky looks from the floor to me. I try to apologize silently because I can’t say the words. Not here. Not now. I step back from the doors, wishing they would just close. Close on this pathetic version of me.
The doors start to move. She looks so hurt. I can’t give her nothing. ‘You were right about the letter,’ I tell her.
Then she’s gone, and I’m staring at closed elevator doors, looking and feeling like a dick.
When I get back to my office, Sarah is standing by my desk, arms folded.
‘It’s for the best,’ I tell her.
‘Whether it is or it isn’t, you just had a real bad attitude with the sweetest girl I’ve met in a hell of a long time. What gives?’
I move behind my desk and fire up my laptop, still standing because I’m too worked up to sit. ‘Nothing gives.’
‘She told me about the note you left, Drew. She’s wrong. It wasn’t just friendly. It was flirting. You went out of your way to get her attention, then she shows up here to reciprocate, and you basically punch her in the gut.’ I wince at her words, and in my mind, I see Becky standing in the elevator, her gaze on the ground. I did upset her.
I sit in my chair and type my password. ‘I’ve got work to do,’ I growl.
‘She made chocolates for you. Handmade. And instead of going home to bed after her early morning shift, she chose the chocolates she thought suited your personality and brought them to your office.’
She did?
‘Yeah, well, I told her I’m not a dessert person. I don’t even know the woman. I didn’t even know her name until yesterday.’ Sarah starts to speak but I hold up a hand, cutting her off. ‘Nor do I want or need to know anything about her.’
She storms toward the office door. ‘Sometimes, Drew Harrington, you’re an insensitive piece of work. The girl is asking for a friend in this big old city.’
‘If you want her to have a friend, why don’t you befriend her?’
‘For your information, we’re going to brunch on Saturday.’ She tugs the door closed behind her.
I stare at my inbox, trying to focus. But I can’t. Sarah’s right. Marty’s right. I don’t show I have a human side. Based on this morning, I’m not even sure I do have a human side.
* * *
I have spent the rest of the morning trying to convince the CEO of one of my biggest clients not to sell out his business to an investment firm. Two reasons. Now is not the right time for a shake-up at the client who earns me my biggest income at Statham Turner. But it’s also sound advice. That investment company would swoop in and have him out of his throne in a matter of months. It would take away everything he has built from scratch. Everything he has worked so hard for would be thrown away with one quick signature. I don’t want to see that happen.
Yeah, I know, I sound like I give it shit. Truth is, I do. I’ve worked for the guy for years. I’ve had dinner with his wife and kids. I couldn’t let him make such a mistake without at least trying to get him to see sense. By the time I finally hang up after the call, I think I have convinced him.
I swivel my chair from my window view to my desk. There’s a white paper bag next to my laptop. Reaching inside, I find a pulled pork baguette. Not just any pulled pork baguette: a Hog Heaven pulled pork baguette. The best pig in the city.
I hold up the sandwich and wink at Sarah. She rolls her eyes and wafts a hand flippantly. I guess we’re back on good terms.
