“Fuck.” My other arm was over my head, mimicking the arch of the tub, and I covered my eyes for just a moment, to get my breath. That night had been incredible, but now I had to rescue the hardwood floor, and I’d just jilled-off to a fantasy about my new boss. I might have felt better for a few seconds, but now I felt considerably worse. And I still had to face him the next day.
Chapter Three
The next morning, I got up, forced myself out of bed, and promised myself that no matter what happened, I would not jump from anything taller than two feet today.
I dressed like I was going into battle, in black, high-waisted, wide-legged trousers and a sleek, structured, rust-colored jacket over a white blouse. I donned dark wood bangles like armor and did up my eyes in shades of tarnished silver. The contouring, my god, the contouring. I wore my brown hair in careless waves – the type of careless only someone who’d spent an hour and a half on her hair alone could achieve. And when I strode from the bathroom in a cloud of fragranced body lotion, Holli actually dropped the gallon of ice cream she was eating directly from for breakfast.
“Holy mother of cheekbones,” she muttered as she licked her spoon clean. “Are you going to work looking like that?”
“Pff.” I looped a skinny cashmere scarf around my neck. “I’m going networking like this. I figure I’ll be fired by nine-thirty, I can at least go drop off some résumés.”
“You’re taking this really well.” Holli picked up her bucket of ice cream. “Should I be prepared for the inevitable fall out?”
“There isn’t going to be any inevitable fall out,” I stated firmly. And I meant that. I’d done my moping around, but rather than let myself become a victim to a situation that was totally out of my hands, I would exert control over whatever aspects I could. I’d leave my current job gracefully and professionally, and try to get another as soon as possible.
“Mmhm.” Holli nodded as she shuffled to the couch. “Just remember, Mr. Cheeba and I will be right here waiting if you change your mind.”
I made sure I was out the door before she could light up. I didn’t want to smell like weed at seven in the morning.
I got my coffee and my breakfast at my usual stop. It didn’t take the usual amount of time, though, which I really appreciated. The last thing I wanted was to be late to my firing. I caught an earlier train than normal, too. At least something was going to go right today.
The building’s lobby was still pretty empty when I negotiated the revolving door and flashed my badge at security. I got an elevator with no wait – epic! – and when I got to the office, I’d even beat Ivanka, the receptionist. No one ever got to work before she did. I suspected she lived under the desk.
I punched the time clock via my desktop computer and started on the totally not fun task of transferring all my personal files to an external hard drive. I’d also clear my internet history and wipe out my contacts list. I wasn’t going to leave a scrap of help for the new regime. At quarter after eight, I checked my phone. No messages from Neil.
Gosh, he really wasn’t anything like Gabriella. By now, the sky would have already been falling, and crises would be raining down on us.
Whoever had covered for me had emailed me Neil’s schedule for the week, and a list of things that had to be done this morning. That surprised me, considering I had planned on being fired and figured he was planning the same thing. Must have been an oversight.
One of the glass double-doors pushed open, and Neil entered, in a long, black wool coat that he shrugged off the moment he stepped inside.
I jumped up to take it from him, totally out of habit. I’d been hanging up guests’ coats in the office for years; it would have felt deeply unnatural to refrain from taking his.
“Good morning, Sophie.” His tone was totally fake and even, at odds with the uncomfortable way he tried and failed to maintain eye contact as he said it.
“Good morning,” I replied, and I fixed my eyes right on him, feeling a mean little thrill of satisfaction. That’s right. I’m refusing to acknowledge the awkwardness of this situation. What are you gonna do about it? “Coffee, black, two sugars?”
“Yes, thank you.” He recovered impressively, adopting exactly the same strategy I had chosen to use: denial. “And if you could set the thermostat to around sixty-five, if it’s not too much trouble? It’s a bit warm in here.”
“Certainly.” I smiled my easiest, closed-mouth work smile, all the while sing-songing in my head, I’ve seen you naked, I’ve seen you naked. He headed for his office, and I opened the coat closet and retrieved one of the gleaming wood hangers.