“Call them later. Or tomorrow morning. It’s no big, she was just worried and once she knew that you were indisposed, she was fine.”
“Okay, I guess.” I still felt shitty about it.
“Go back and sit down.” Sloane shoved me toward the couch. I sat down with a sigh and turned on the television, finally settling on a marathon of a show about picking wedding dresses. I knew Sloane would love it. Her running commentary was worth the price of admission.
An hour later, I was inhaling enchiladas with pico de gallo, and a black bean and corn salad, and the German chocolate cake was baking in the oven. Sometimes, you need to eat your feelings.
“Oh my God. I can’t watch. I can’t watch. Tell me they’re not going to put her in a mermaid gown. Tell me this is not happening,” Sloane said, covering her eyes with her hands.
“Oh, it’s happening. Her mom always dreamed of her in the mermaid dress, so she’s wearing the mermaid dress.” On most people, a mermaid dress would look good, but on this girl . . . not so much.
I grabbed another enchilada from the pan and some more salad. Sloane peeked behind her fingers. “Oh thank God. That’s much more suited to her.”
The timer dinged and Sloane raced to get the cake out of the oven and set it on a rack to cool while she made the frosting.
Once the cake was finished, we didn’t even cut it, just used forks and dug in. My internal clock was messed up from the all night fuckfest and then the huge nap I’d taken. Tomorrow was going to be rough.
“Men suck,” Sloane said with her mouth full of cake.
“They do.” I took another bite. I found it interesting that Sloane was so focused on everyone else’s love lives, but was doing nothing about her own, and I was starting to get suspicious, but I was going to wait a little while before I asked her about it.
Besides, I had some more wallowing to do.
Fifteen
I didn’t get breakfast for Lucas on Monday morning, but I got my own. I kind of hoped he would see that as a statement, but maybe he wouldn’t.
In the elevator up to my office I was trying to gain my normal ice-cold composure, but it wasn’t happening. I couldn’t snap the wall in front of my emotions. All because of Lucas Blaine and his stupid magical tongue and lovely penis.
I got out of the elevator and walked right to his desk, my heels clicking on the floor, which helped steady my nerves just a little bit. There was a bag on top, as if it was waiting for me. Mr. Blaine was already typing away.
“Good morning, Miss Clarke. Your strawberry donut and coffee are right there and I’ve already gone through and flagged your important emails.” He didn’t stop typing or look up at me.
“Thank you Mr. Blaine.” I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t, so I grabbed the bag and my coffee and headed to my desk. I hoped he didn’t see that I’d already gotten my breakfast, so I now had two.
I just had to get through the rest of the day. And then the next after that . . .
I threw myself into work, and it seemed that Mr. Blaine had done the same. All our discourse was clipped and short and without any longing or lusty staring. At least on his part.
He seemed to be doing fine, and that made me feel even worse. Clearly, he’d taken me seriously about the one night thing. We should have done this originally. Then maybe I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Even though it was torture, I left my door open and it took any leftover concentration I had to not look at him as he worked.
His face was so serious all day. I’d never seen him that way, and it was just as sexy as his smile. There was something unbearably attractive about a man when he was on a mission. That was how he’d been last night when he looked at me. Like he was going to possess me. Own me. I’d let him, and I’d done my best to him back.
I tried to block him out, but later in the afternoon he was on the phone and I couldn’t ignore it. He was arguing with someone, and it didn’t look like something work related. I looked up from my desk and saw him pinch the bridge of his nose as if he was losing his patience.
I wished I could read lips, but I couldn’t, and he was too far away and talking too low for me to eavesdrop; but something was definitely not okay. He smacked his hand on the desk and then looked around, as if he was aware that he might be making a scene. I quickly flipped my eyes to some papers on my desk, but I knew he saw me.
He hung up the phone and I could feel his eyes on me. Great. I’d gotten caught. I picked up my phone and dialed his extension. He picked up after one ring.
“Everything okay?” I said. He sighed and he looked defeated. It’s a strange thing when you can see the face of the person you’re talking to on the phone. Puts a whole new spin on it.
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I didn’t mean to. It won’t happen again.” He sounded depressed and dejected and I wanted, more than anything, to reach through the phone and put my arms around him.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” he said as he shook his head. “Nothing anyone can do.”
“Is it bad?”