Well, of course he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He didn’t remember having sex with me. Or he did. I’d decided that him knowing my name was definitive proof, but it really wasn’t. He could have just asked someone while I was out getting bagels.
He gestured at the sophisticated white chair in front of Gabriella’s desk. “Have a seat; there are some things we need to discuss.”
I held my breath. He did remember me, after all, and he was just waiting for the right time to bring it up. Now he was going to fire me.
“First of all, lunch.” He leaned back in Gabriella’s chair. I never realized it tilted, because she had always sat up so ramrod straight. “No red meat, no MSG.”
I almost sighed in relief. Not fired yet, and as a bonus, he’d given me a somewhat specific request. I reached for the notepad beside the blotter and gestured to the pen beside it. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He watched me as I wrote down “No red meat. No MSG,” on the top line, then continued, “I’ll usually have breakfast at home, so you don’t have to worry about that. I will be having lunch in today, though, and I need this—” he pushed a manila envelope across the desk, “—to the clerk’s office at City Hall before closing.”
I took the envelope and dutifully wrote “Clerk” in my notes, my pen hovering over the paper as I awaited his next instruction.
“That’s all,” he said, and I looked up to meet his amused expression. “I’m not a demanding boss. I may need you to bring me coffee or mail something occasionally, all the usual assistant’s duties, but I’m not going to send you all over town caring for my dog.”
“Do you...” I cleared my throat. Someone had told him about Empress Catherine’s frequent trips to the holistic vet. “Do you not have a dog?”
His lips quirked. I remembered that half-smile so well. Just like six years ago, I couldn’t tell if he was smiling because he thought me utterly ridiculous, or if he liked me.
He’d smiled like that when I’d finally gotten up the courage to cross the seating area by the gate. I’d felt so gross and unattractive after my first flight of the day, wearing a faded pair of comfortable jeans and a black “To Write Love On Her Arms” t-shirt. I hadn’t straightened my hair, just pulled it into a sloppy ponytail. I’d wanted so badly to sound grown up and world-weary. I’d gestured to the gate and said, “First time going to Tokyo?”
And he’d smiled that mysterious half-smile and replied, “No. But I bet it’s yours.”
The man before me now was six years older, with a few more lines on his face and little more gray in his hair. But he still made my traitorous knees weak. I was caught between hating him, and wanting to jump into his lap. Not my finest working girl moment.
“No,” he replied, the tilt to his lips never fading. “I do not have a dog. Do you have any other questions?”
Was he playing with me? I couldn’t tell. But the way I saw it in that moment, I had nothing to lose.
“Yes, I do.” I envisioned myself saying, “Did you once pick up a girl at LAX, fuck her brains out, and take her plane ticket?” But my mouth seemed to be, wisely, in agreement with the part of my brain screaming, No! No! Instead, I asked, “Do you know when Penelope is going to be back?”
“Penelope?” He frowned a moment. “The other assistant, right. No, I believe, um, Ms. Winters has retained her services outside of the company. Or so Human Resources has informed me. One of my staff will take over for her.”
I wondered if he could hear the rage building up inside me, like steam in a tea kettle. My vivid imagination conjured up a caricature of my head morphing into an angry cartoon boiler whistle. “Gabriella...” My throat stuck closed. I had to stop to clear it.
Neil jumped directly in. “Took her along.” He paused, understanding transforming his puzzled expression to one of concern. “She... Didn’t offer?”
“No.” I pulled down the front of my coffee-stained jacket. “No, she did not ‘offer.’ Will that be all?”
He seemed momentarily perplexed at my curtness, like he’d never seen actual human emotion before. Very quickly, he said, “Yes, I believe it will, Sarah, thank you.”
Sarah? That was it. The cherry on the shit sundae that was my day. My career. Hell, my entire adult life. The woman I had thought of as a mentor apparently thought of me as office furniture. The man I’d compared every potential lover to for the past six years didn’t remember having sex with me. And judging by the fact that he couldn’t even remember my name, my job was looking more temporary by the second.