“It’s all right,” I repeated softly.
There was nothing left to say. I wanted to ask him how he was doing, but I had no business prying. It would be totally offensive since I was the one who made him leave. He couldn’t know that I was already working on myself—trying really hard to find balance in my life. It wasn’t easy, and I was still a broken mess, but I was starting to put myself together again. Last night I lay awake in bed feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks. I almost called him to tell him. But that would have been selfish. Why should he care to celebrate my small accomplishments, especially from far away?
“I better go,” Reece said. “Clients don’t wait.” He held up his stack of copies.
“I . . .” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say.
He looked at me helplessly, but only for a second before he adjusted his face, hiding any emotion.
“Goodbye, Bailey.”
***
Kat Kreates was a bullshit firm. It constantly tried to undermine Beach Elite and steal all its clients. It was a bully firm stacked with weasels who didn’t understand the concept of work ethics. It operated with no definable moral compass and was an all-around shady business. And I couldn’t care less. They offered me thirty dollars an hour to proofread their ad campaigns, and I wasn’t about to pass that up.
I will not pretend, however, that I didn’t miss Marjorie or Christopher. Or even Reece. I was well into my second month at the firm, and the job was lonely. I didn’t bother to make new friends because I convinced myself that all my coworkers were wily. I tucked myself away instead, many days going without uttering a word. While in the past I enjoyed the solitary nature of proofing, I knew my heart and mind had changed. He changed me. He left something inside of me I couldn’t get rid of. It was a small pinprick of light that glowed deep in my belly that suggested the irrefutable change. The love had been planted, and now I couldn’t escape it. I battled it. I knew I was no good for anyone, but the love remained anyway, pulsing a message of hope: You don’t have to be alone.
And I didn’t want to.
“Hey, new girl,” someone said above my shoulder. I looked up.
He smiled down and extended his hand, offering me a Lindt truffle.
“Thanks,” I replied, taking the chocolate. I didn’t miss out on the fact that he was very cute, but remember: he was wily, too. They all were.
“Name?”
“I don’t have one,” I replied. I’ve no idea why that came out of my mouth.
He looked at me, confused. And then a smile spread slowly across his face, revealing perfect teeth. I hated perfect teeth. I hated my own perfect teeth, for that matter.
“That’s cute,” he said. “Now tell me your name. Seriously.”
“Beboppin’ Bailey.” The words just tumbled out, and I clapped a hand over my mouth.
He burst out laughing. “Is that, like, a nickname from childhood?”
I shook my head, hand still stuck to my face.
“Well, I like it. Beboppin’ Bailey,” he said, and my heart clenched.
Don’t you dare repeat it, I thought. Don’t you dare use his name.
“So, Beboppin’ Bailey,” he began, “how are you liking your new job? I’ve seen you around from time to time. You just do your own thing, don’t you? Never see you talk to anyone.”
He moseyed into my cubicle and got comfortable on my desk. Bile shot up into my throat. No lie.
“No one calls me Beboppin’ Bailey anymore,” I explained. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s just Bailey. Plain ol’ Bailey.”
“Nah. I like Beboppin’ Bailey much better,” he replied.
“Well, I don’t,” I clipped.
He cocked his head at me. “Okay then. Bailey it is.”
“And what’s your name?” I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t care at all.
“Stephen,” he said.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You sure about that? You seem like you’re not sure. Did I do or say something to offend you?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I nodded. I really wanted to get back to my work. I wasn’t on a schedule anymore, and for the first time in months, I wish I was. It would provide me the excuse I needed to get this jackass out of my workspace. Why, Bailey? Why did you have to get better? I thought bitterly.
“All right then,” he replied. “So what are you doing after work?”
Erica burst out laughing later that night when I relayed the conversation. I went to her house for dinner. I was excited to see her, but truthfully, I was more excited to play with her kids. I brought along Poppy who was the only Westie I knew who actually liked small children.
“What a total douche,” she said, giggling.
“I know, right? I fu— freaking hate that place.” Caught myself.
“Find another job,” Erica said.
“Erica, they pay better than any other firm. I’m sticking it out for a while,” I replied.
“I get it,” she said, “but it’s so important to love what you do.”
“And it’s also important to pay your mortgage,” I replied.
She grunted. “Oh, I totally forgot to tell you that I have a client coming over in—” She checked the time. “—about ten minutes.”
“Huh?”
“And Taylor’s coming, too. She’s gonna start tanning Courtney, so I’m introducing them.”
“Oh, I see,” I said. “You needed a babysitter.”
“Hey, I’m gonna feed you afterward. Shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.”
“Do your thing. It’s fine. I really came over to see your kids anyway. Not you. And don’t get pissed if Poppy licks your client’s leg when she leaves.”
“Ohhhh, yeah. That’s so not happening. You need to put that mongrel in a room,” Erica said.
“How about we all hole up in the playroom. Will that work?” I asked.