“Want me to come with you? I wouldn’t object to a little desk sex. Plus, it will save time.”
Smart girl. But…probably not a good idea to bring her to a place where we’d be surrounded by shit that reminded me of the woman I was trying to keep out of my head.
I gave her a chaste kiss and lifted her off of me. “Stay put. My office is on the first floor. There’s twenty-four-hour security down there. I don’t want to have to cover your mouth when you scream my name.”
The damn elevator took forever to make its way up to my floor, so I took the opportunity to at least buckle my pants before running into Ted, the night doorman. What I should have done was put on shoes. The marble-tiled floor was like an ice cube, and I didn’t want my body temperature cooling down.
Inside my office, I made a point of not looking at Emerie’s closed door as I walked up the hallway. I didn’t need anything else to remind me of her. Definitely not the whiteboard where she wrote sappy relationship crap and then stormed into my office looking all sexy and angry. Nope. Not going to look. Like a two year old, I held my hand up to block my peripheral view of the office across from mine as I opened my door.
Rummaging through my desk, I found three loose condoms in the drawer. Thank fuck. I shoved them in my pocket and started back down the hall toward the lobby. I’d almost cleared the hallway when I heard a sound.
I should look.
Fuck that. Let someone break in and steal whatever they want. I’d deal with it tomorrow. I had more important things waiting for me upstairs.
Then I heard it again. It almost…sounded like a sniffle.
Was Emerie still here? I tried to keep going, but I knew I’d never be able to focus if I thought she could be hurt or something. What if she fell on her way out and was bleeding all over the floor in her closed office? I jogged back to her door and opened it.
“Drew! You scared the shit out of me.” Emerie jumped in her seat and clutched her chest.
“What are you still doing here? I thought you had a hot date with Mr. Escargot?”
“So did I.”
Upon closer inspection, I could see that she’d been crying. She had a tissue wadded up in her hand, and her pale skin was blotchy. “What did he do?” I had the sudden urge to choke the little dweeb with his own bowtie.
She sniffled. “Nothing, really. He just canceled our dinner plans.”
“What happened?”
“Today’s my birthday, and—”
“It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Birthdays have never been a big deal for me. I celebrated Gotcha Day growing up like most people celebrate birthdays.”
“Gotcha Day?”
“The day my parents brought me home from the adoption agency. They always said everyone had a birthday, but the day they got me was the best present they ever received. So they started to celebrate Gotcha Day with me instead of their own birthdays. It just sort of stuck, and birthdays are just a number for me.”
“That’s really incredible. But you still should have told me it was your birthday.” It didn’t escape me that Emerie barely acknowledged her birthday, while my ex-wife thought her birthday was a national holiday. That had always annoyed the shit out of me even before things got really bad.
She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m just being a big baby. Baldwin made reservations at this popular French restaurant where it’s impossible to get a table, and I was supposed to meet him at eight.”
“What happened?”
“He texted me and said Rachel was pissed that he blew her off to take me to dinner the other night, and when he’d mentioned he was taking me out again, she got annoyed, so he had to cancel tonight.”
The guy was a total asshole. He was definitely stringing Emerie along. There was no doubt in my mind after everything she’d told me and then seeing how he reacted the other night when I’d suggested she and I grab a bite to eat. He was territorial about her in more than a friendly way. Yet he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.
“I know you have feelings for him. But the guy seems like an asshole to me.”
“I just need to let go and move on.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“I should go out and celebrate my birthday myself—pick someone up in a bar and bring him home with me.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
She sighed. “I know. I’m just not a random-hookup type of girl. I’ve tried it, and I hate myself for weeks after. It’s not worth it.”
Thank God. The thought of her bringing some random guy home to hook up with made me physically sick. Speaking of which…my random hookup was upstairs waiting.