Triplets Make Five

I’ll call them and make the reservations and let you know when the date is. Wear whatever makes you feel beautiful.

P. Walker

I read the email over and over, losing myself in the words. Our restaurant? What did that mean? Did he mean the one restaurant he had taken me to on our one date? That place was hardly ‘our restaurant’. We had only been once, and if we were dating it would have simply been the place where we had our first date. But no one did that kind of thing until there was something special two people were celebrating. An anniversary or an engagement to be proposed. Visiting a restaurant again hardly denoted it as a trend of ours, so his words took me aback.

But then again, I was also smiling.

I sat back in my chair and read the words again. Within the span of the thirty minutes it took for him to respond to me, he had taken my simple request to talk as an open invitation to take me out again. Did he think I had been asking him out on a date? Was he really going to take me out again after what happened? After I had…left him like that? Naked and vulnerable in his own home?

Did I really care?

I decided to leave the email unanswered. If he booked the date for Friday, then I would go. If he didn't book it, then I wouldn't. I didn't know what it was, but I was still struggling with giving him the satisfaction of saying ‘yes’. Even on our first date, with the passion that flowed between our bodies all night, I still didn't have to say anything to get there. There were only gestures between us. Gestures that showed my consent with what happened, but did not force me to utter anything out loud.

If I had to say it--if I had to admit that I had wanted to be with the kind of man Preston Walker had been that night--it felt like I was disappointing myself. Like I was somehow debasing myself by falling to the knees of a man who was a self-professed playboy.

And yet, I had enjoyed every bit of it.

Sighing, I got back to work. I confirmed all of the numbers and added up the total amount the investors had given to the company. Then, I hand-delivered everything down to the Finance Department to make sure everything would get processed before the end of the day. I told them it was urgent. That Mr. Walker needed these funds before the day was out.

The woman I handed the papers to didn't seem to second-guess anything I had said.

I strolled back to my office and looked at the clock. It was three o’clock on the nose, and I groaned as I relaxed back into my chair. I took a look at the schedule that had been set for me while I was away, taking note of the meetings I would have to appear in for the next month. There was another meeting with the graphic design team, another meeting with Finance, the other investors meeting, and another company-wide meeting.

I went into the events and set alarms for them so I wouldn't be caught off guard the day of the meetings.

I flipped back over to my email and read Preston’s message again. He was asking me all of those questions about Friday night as if I had some sort of input. But then his last sentence suggested I didn’t have any input in what was going on at all. Maybe he thought he was being romantic. Or maybe he thought he could swoon me back into bed. I wasn't sure what he was concocting, but I felt like something was brewing.

However, my thoughts were interrupted with another wave of nausea wafted over my body.

I had no idea what was going on, but it was so strong that I had to grab my trash can. I heaved into it, tears brewing in my eyes. I reached over towards my desk lamp and turned it off, my eyes throbbing as my rolling stomach took me for a ride. I thought I had left this stomach bug in the mountains, but it seemed as if it had followed me home.

I felt gross. I knew I still had two more hours to work, but my body suddenly felt exhausted. I decided to pack my things up and go home, taping a notice up on the door to route any issues they had onto a note and slide it underneath Preston’s door. I grabbed some water out of my fridge to take home with me as the room spun. I had to slump against the wall in order to gather myself, the nausea rolling over me like an impending storm.

I felt my forehead with the back of my hand and relinquished myself to the truth. I was sick and I needed to get to a doctor. I made my way for the elevator and went down to the parking garage, then slowly felt my way to my car. I took deep breaths as a headache tore through my head, throbbing my vision as I sat down into my car.

I called my doctor and made an emergency appointment, listing my symptoms and telling them it didn’t matter to me who I saw. All I wanted was something for this growing migraine and something to help keep my nausea at bay.

The rest I could work through. But I had just gotten back from vacation and I couldn’t afford to start taking sick days.

Even if Preston wasn’t here to scrutinize them.

Fourteen

Preston

That fucking business trip kept me away for almost three damn weeks. I knew the client was special and whatnot, but that had gotten ridiculous. I was two more days away from cutting off the deal altogether. I hated clients who thought they knew all the shit about what they were getting into. But once everything was finished, Kiefer And Associates had snagged their largest client to date. It would take it into the big leagues and allow the company to get their feet wet in how shit like this was supposed to work.

And now, I was preparing myself for my date with Delilah.

She never responded to my email, so I figured she was playing hard to get. I made the reservations for a Friday evening so we could have all the time in the world. I had every intention of exploring h

er body the way it deserved to be explored. I was going to kiss all her crevices and have her dripping into my hand before we even left that damn restaurant tonight.

I was ready for it, and I had the perfect suit on to make her fall to her knees.

It was a tailored gray suit, with a royal blue shirt and a matching gray tie. I remembered how she eyed my suit the first time. How her eyes took in the slope of my shoulders and the tapered waist of my jacket. I had every intention of drawing that same speechless look upon her face again. I had every intention of making it so that she couldn’t leave me in the morning.

I had every intention of making her my breakfast Saturday morning.