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The horrible thing about this is, despite our pledge of professionalism, my heart jumps into my throat every time I see him and I can’t seem to formulate a full sentence.
“Good,” I try to gulp out every time.
“Good. Let me know if you need anything,” is always his godforsaken response.
Who is this man and what has he done with the grumpy, crotchety, bottom-line-driven Orlie Wynters?
My mind keeps playing through what Polly said.Everyone’s always nicer when they fall in love.
In the three weeks I was gone, did Orlie Wynters meet the love of his life? Is he a totally different person because of her? My heart never fails to crack at the thought. Because against every logical bone in my body, I want it to be me.Iwant to be the reason he’s changing.
Kira, you know you can’t change people.
Does it count, though, if I didn’t even know I was doing the changing?
I’ve taken to avoiding Orlie as best I can. Which isn’t too hard, since our office is in the basement and all I have to do is close my door to get the privacy I need.
Still, though. I yearn for him. In so many ways. My body, my mind…
The only time I leave my little cove is to use the bathroom. Or, if I haven’t brought my lunch from home, to go to the cafeteria.
And today just happens to be one of those days.
I fly through the state-of-the-art kitchen at top speed, ignoring the custom risotto station and freshly made rolls of sushi, opting for some simple comfort food: mac and cheese and cornbread. Once I’ve scanned my badge, I tuck myself onto a stool at the tables facing the window. Always a good option when I don’t want to be disturbed. I could of course squirrel my lunch back down to the basement, but the kitchen has a beautiful view of the beach.
Always helps me take a breath. Remember why I’m here.
This will all blow over. Orlie will become so busy we barely see each other and maybe I’ll meet someone new. Maybe I should download a dating app to really get my mind off things or –
A plate lands carefully on the edge of my trail. I eye it. A delectable, golden orange piece of peach cobbler with perfectly browned crust. None of that matters, though, compared to the hand gripping the edge of the plate.
I hate that I know his hand so well. It’s been all over me.Insideme. How could I not?
I follow Orlie’s hand up to his arm, up higher and higher until my eyes land in his.
He’s smiling at me. Like a genuine smile. And it’s adorable.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“Kitchen has outdone themselves today with this. Wanted you to try it. They used grandmother’s recipe.”
I try not to swoon. He thought of me.
“There’s ice cream too, but I didn’t want to rush you. I can get you a scoop, though. Vanilla, of course.”
“No, this is just fine the way it is, thank you,” I say. Even though the peach cobbler looks divine, I’m not sure I can stomach it. I bet it’s incredibly sweet. And each bite would bemade all the sweeter knowing who gave it to me. Might make me sick.
“You’re welcome,” Orlie says with a tight nod.
I shift back and forth on my stool and glance over my shoulder. It feels like everyone is staring even though no one is. I’m just paranoid.
“How are things?”
“Things are good.”
“Good. Good. Um. I’ll leave you to your lunch, then.”
I pick up my fork and dig it into the mac and cheese. “Yeah, thanks.”
