Seven agonizing hours later, I’m convinced that Ian is going to fire me. Gah.
It’s only January 2nd and my hopes for the year have taken a hit.
Instead of Josh agreeing to my plan he said no. A hard no.
Instead of getting a promotion at work I’m about to be fired.
It’s nearly six o’clock in the evening. I’m in Ian’s office.
In the years that I’ve worked here, I’ve never ever set foot in Ian’s office. It’s sort of a sacred space that only top-level influencers and celebrities are allowed in. There’s a tasteful waterfall and koi pond, a small putting green, a bar, and a seating area. Ian holds a golf club in his hand and putts a ball. It speeds across the green and lands with a soft clatter into the cup.
He looks up at me and flashes a bright white toothy grin.
I smile at him, but behind the smile I feel queasy. Getting fired isn’t easy.
“Would you like a drink?” Ian asks. He tosses the putter onto a leather couch and strides toward the bar area of his office. His white shirt sleeves are rolled up and I can see a dusting of dark hair on his muscular forearms. “A martini? Whiskey?”
My stomach rolls at the thought of alcohol. I’m still recovering from this morning’s hangover. “A sparkling water if you have it.”
He looks over his shoulder at me and flashes another grin, showing off his chin dimple.
To be perfectly honest, I’ve spent years fantasizing about this man.
I know, I know, he’s a “celebrity persona” and he only dates models and reality TV stars. Plus he dresses like a mannequin in a shop window on Madison Avenue. My sister claims that Ian is about as real as the mannequin. Meaning, he’s as fake as they come.
She thinks he’s a self-styled self-help guru that has made his way into the limelight by playing to the insecurities and neuroses of the masses. But I don’t agree. He has a message that matters, he helps people, and he came from nothing and worked his way to where he is today. Sure, he only dates models and shallow reality TV stars, but maybe I can throw a cliché in here and say that he’s merely waiting for the right woman to come along and love him for who he is. At least in my fantasies that’s what happens.
Ian steps up to me, a martini in one hand and a sparkling water in the other.
He hands me the water with a smile.
“Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I raise my water to him and take a drink.
“I enjoyed your presentation today.”
I blush and glance at him over the rim of my water. “Thank you. I worked hard on it.”
Outside Ian’s office the lights flicker off. Lavinia has left for the day. She’s usually the last one out. Ian looks at the darkened space beyond the glass walls of his office then he looks back to me.
“You’ve worked here for six years.”
Oh. Here it comes. The “you’re fired” bit. I nod. “Seven next month.”
What will happen to me if I lose my job? Right now, my health insurance covers fertility treatments, but if I lose my job, then I won’t be able to pay for them. What then? Will my dream of having a baby with IVF end a day after it began?
Just as I’m about to rush into an explanation of why Ian shouldn’t fire me, and why I love this job, and why it would be a mistake to let me go, he says, “Would you like to have dinner?”
Huh?
“Excuse me?”
He gives me a boyish smile that shows off the dimple on his chin. “Dinner. You. Me.”
“Dinner?” I shake my head and try to do a mental three-sixty. “I thought you were going to fire me.”
Ian chuckles. “Why would I fire you? You’re the reason the last six of my online seminars went viral.”
Well, that’s true.
Relief washes over me. I’m not getting fired. No one but Ian saw the bra and boob show on the conference call. I get to keep my job.
And speaking of my job, is this a work dinner or is Ian asking me out on a date?
This is probably a work dinner. Most definitely…probably…definitely a work dinner.
Although it might be a date.
But the thing is, I can’t start dating Ian when I’m preparing to undergo IVF and have a baby. Except. Unless. Maybe, this is fate. Like Ian says, “Fate finds you when you least expect it.”
There’s only one way to find out if this is a work dinner or if it’s the hand of fate.
“I’d love to have dinner with you.”
It was a date.
And, we had wild, amazing, mind-blowing sex.
Okay, fine, the mind-blowing sex was in my imagination—played out in vivid detail while we ate steaming bowls of bibimbap and talked about the future of Ian Fortune, Live Your Best Life Starting Now Enterprises.
But, yes, it was a date.
8
I spent the last seven days in a state of euphoria. I felt like one of those anime characters with my feet floating inches above the ground and stars in my eyes. Ian “accidentally” met me at the little coffee stand outside the building six times in the past week. We had take-out sushi when we both stayed late at the office one night. And another time he stopped the elevator, brushed my hair back and pushed aside my cardigan “just to check” that I was wearing his favorite bra.
He also sent juicy chats and inspirational messages written just for me.
Like, even the worst days are better for having you in them.
And, I didn’t realize what was right in front of me all this time.
Or, I’ve been waiting for you so long.
I know.
I know I said that I don’t need a man to make my dreams come true. And I don’t. I’m pursuing my dream of a family with or without a man. But, after my divorce and diagnosis of infertility, I found Ian’s website, and his quotes were like a lifeline. When I started working for him I realized he’s as amazing as his quotes. I’ve had a thing for him for seven years. He saved me from a load of pain and now he’s taking me out to sushi and meeting me for coffee. How can I not live in this moment and enjoy it for what it is?