Seated at the other end of the table is the very associate I gave up my lunch for last year.
Blonde. No glasses. Nothing particularly memorable at all about him. In fact, if he hadn’t called out my name just now, I would easily pass this guy on the street and not recognize him. It’s only in this setting, large board room with baked goods spread out on a conference table that my memory is being triggered. And that might have everything to do with the treats and nothing to do with the sex we had.
He stands and buttons his jacket, grinning in my direction. “I’ll walk you out.”
I smile at the older man who took the boxes from me and exit the room. Blonde, no glasses guy has to catch up.
“I said I would walk you out. You can’t wait a second?” He gently squeezes my elbow, bending down to whisper into my ear. “In a hurry? I can make it quick.”
I wrench my arm away. “That’s okay. I need to get back to work.”
My feet continue to carry me down the hallway. He stays right with me, his quiet chuckle grating on my nerves.
Christ, just go away. This isn’t going to happen.
“Come on, Brooke. I’m about to have to sit through this boring as fuck meeting. Make a guy’s day a bit brighter, will ya?”
I turn to glare at him. “I don’t even remember your name.”
“Vince.”
“Well, Vince, like I said, I need to get back to work. But even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be interested.”
His eyebrows meet his hairline. “Why not?”
“Because I have a boyfriend.”
My feet skid to a halt in front of the reception desk. I clamp my mouth shut, sucking in a sharp breath through my nose. Vince begins to blur in front of me, followed by all of my surroundings. The walls seem to pulse, throbbing with the beat of my heart as it fills my ears, growing louder and louder. My breaths become shallow and my palms start to sweat.
What . . .
The . . .
Hell . . . did I just say?
I look around for another woman standing nearby whose voice I had to have been hearing.
That wasn’t me. I didn’t just say that. I didn’t just say I have a boyfriend.
Turning my head, I meet the gaze of the older receptionist behind the desk.
Was it you?
“Ah, gotcha.”
I look back at Vince after he speaks.
He tugs on his jacket, lifting his one shoulder. “I’m not trying to break up a relationship. That’s too much involvement for me. Good luck with your boyfriend. Hope it all works out.”
Boyfriend.
“Shut up, Vince!”
He leans back, looking startled. “Excuse me?”
I look around us, gauging the eyes on me and watching them multiply. I bring both hands to my face and mold them to my cheeks.
My skin feels warm. Too warm. I need air.
I spin around and nearly climb onto the reception desk. “Are you Helen? Please, for the love of God, tell me you’re Helen. I need a Helen.”
She stares up at me from over the top of her glasses. “I’m Helen.”
“That guy back there told me to stop here for my check. For the delivery I made. Dylan’s Sweet Tooth.”
“Oh, yes.” She smiles and picks up a check and a small piece of paper, sliding them both in front of me. “Here you go. Just need you to sign for it.”
I grab a pen and scribble something onto the receipt. I doubt it’s my name. I doubt it’s legible.
There’s a strong possibility I just signed it ‘boyfriend’.
I snatch up the check, fold it up, and shove it into my back pocket. The elevators have a small gathering of people in front of the doors. I can’t wait for those. I take the stairs instead and swiftly descend eleven flights, darting across the lobby and pushing through the revolving doors.
The sun hits my face. Oxygen hurriedly enters my lungs with the ragged gasps I take in. I move to a lamppost at the corner of the sidewalk and place my hand against the warm copper, seeking balance. I suddenly feel dizzy.