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“Sorry,” I mutter. “I came from the generation that could spell.”
“Just because of that snarky comment, I won’t help you,” she responds primly.
“Okay, thank you for explaining that to this pre-middle-aged person,” I say.
“Pre?” she asks.
I lean in across the receptionist's console.
“Do you want your Christmas bonus?” I asked, laughing.
She giggles and tosses me a card. I read.
“Good God,” I say. “We just agreed my personal life is mine, and she’s doing this. Such a manipulator. Wait – this is tomorrow night?”
“So, are we back to her thinking Brynne Casey is your fiancé?” Gretchen laughs. “Because that is who the invite is specifically addressed to. The whole office part is in small print.”
“She’s out of her mind,” I complain. “She just won’t leave me alone.”
“I want to go,” Gretchen says under her breath.
“Why?” I scoff. “We have worked hard to whittle this woman out of our lives, and you want to go hang out with her?”
“She’s having it on her yacht,” she says. “It’s sounds glamorous and fun.”
An image of Brynne in a sweet, nothing dress plays with me. That is if I can get her to go with me.
“I concede your point. But it’s couples,” I point to the card. “Although Adrianne did invite the office. Do you have a date?”
“No,” she snips. “That’s so sexist.”
I chuckled.
“How on earth is that sexist?” I ask.
“It’ssomething,” she says.
“It’s your lucky day,” I say. “I have a date for you if you want. You don’t even have to hang out with him.”
“Were we born in the same decade?” she snarks.
“Now that’s rude, but yes.” I shake my head.
“It’s not Nick, right?” she whines.
“No,” I say. “Todd’s a friend of Brynne’s. He’s a surfer.”
Gretchen gasps with glee. She clasps her hands, and her face pops brightly - like not only am I giving her a Christmas bonus, but I am handing it to her now.
“Is he cute? I bet he’s ripped. You can’t be a good surfer and not be in shape.”
“He’s not ugly that much, I know,” I tease. “And he is indeed ripped. He lives a simple life. He’s about six feet tall, I would hazard to guess. Fair hair, fair eyes.”
“So then, are you going with Brynne?” It will be a known fact sooner or later, so I tell her. “Yes,” I say. “I mean, I haven’t asked Brynne yet. I hope she will.”
Gretchen gets serious for a second. In fact, she appears downright stern when she looks at me.
“Did you break them up?” she asks accusingly.
