Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I don’t hear from him all weekend, either. Not that I’d been expecting to.
I do hear from Kris, and any hope that he’ll back out of the Vermont trip fades, because he actually seems kind of excited.
Though, that could be because he thinks he’s finally getting in my pants.
Yeah. That’s right. I didn’t go home with him after that night at the bar. I’d already done one stupid thing by inviting him to Vermont, I didn’t want to add another by sleeping with one man when I couldn’t stop thinking about another.
I take Saturday to myself, to watch TV, do laundry, and actually, I find myself working a little, even though I’m well ahead of schedule on my deliverables and don’t technically have to work.
I’m really, really loving the Fusion campaign, and all of the agency’s feedback on the concepts I have sent over have been glowing.
Sunday is cool and crisp and beautiful, and I happily agree to Collette’s last-minute suggestion of brunch and shopping down in SoHo. We mostly talk about the bachelor–bachelorette party, and I impress myself wildly by keeping a smile on my face the entire time, even when Thomas’s name comes up.
It also makes me realize that a good friend won’t let the tension with Thomas and myself get in the way of putting on an amazing weekend for Collette and Jon, so I spend the rest of Sunday with my notebook and my iPad and phone, putting together an itinerary and calling around to check on prices and availability. For all I know, I could be duplicating efforts with Thomas, but I can’t quite bring myself to get in touch with him to check.
Tomorrow will be soon enough.
And then Monday rolls around, and maybe I take a tiny bit more care with my appearance. I braid my blue streak and wind it into a messy little knot all of its own, and then I curl the rest in big, loose curls that feel sort of pretty and feminine.
My outfit toes the line of what’s considered “business professional” attire, but I’m feeling the need for a little armor, and I don it in the form of thigh-high boots over slim-fitting black pants and an off-the-shoulder sweater that shows my bra strap.
Which is red.
Only . . . there’s no Thomas.
He’s not there when I get in at eight. He doesn’t show by nine. And when he’s a no-show for the ten o’clock check-in call with Insurgence, I officially have a knot in my stomach.
Exactly how much damage did I do?
I’m about to find out: a lot.
At lunch time, I finally hear from Thomas via text.
Hey. Got a minute to meet me outside?
I frown. Outside?
Outside where?
The office.
The office? Our office?
I look out the window, and sure enough, I see him standing there. Only, he’s wearing jeans. And a sweater. Not his usual work clothes, but I guess I’m not either.
Still watching him, I call him.
“Just come up here,” I say when he picks up. “I brought my lunch today, and it’s freezing out.”
He looks up, and even though I’m several stories up, I feel it low in my gut when our eyes meet.
“Mac. Please. Come down here? You can have my coat if you need it.”
There’s something in his voice I don’t like at all. But once again, I’m the damn moth to his flame, and a minute later I step outside, pulling on my jacket as I do so, even though it ruins the effect of my red bra strap.
“Well,” I say, walking towards him and extending my hands. “I’m here. What had to happen outside instead of inside where it’s warm?”
“I couldn’t go inside. I don’t have my key.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure Brian—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t have my key, because this isn’t going to be my office anymore.”
My stomach sinks all the way this time. “Oh, come on. What excuse did you have to come up with to explain to Christina that you can’t work offsite because you’re avoiding me?”
“No excuse.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I wanted you to hear it from me first. I gave my notice on Friday afternoon. And since I was so new and there wasn’t much to off-board, we all agreed that two weeks wasn’t really necessary. So as of today, I’m no longer an Elodie employee.”
“You—what? You quit? After just a couple of weeks? Doesn’t that go against your creed or something?”
“It didn’t feel great to bail so early in the game,” he admitted. “But in my gut, I knew it wasn’t a good fit. Me sticking around out of some sense of responsibility or guilt wouldn’t be fair to me, the team, or my bosses.”
I scowl at him. “This isn’t because of last week, right? Because I swear that was just—”
“I quit because it was the right thing to do, Mac.” There’s a sharp finality to his tone and I exhale.