Chapter 3
Chloe
Who knew that when you quit a job, it is exactly like the movies? I’m standing in my office with my little box in hand. It’s filled with a picture frame of me and my college roommates, my manuscript I need to burn, my candy dish and a few going away presents in the form of Starbucks gift cards. At least my coworkers knew what I liked.
Inhaling, I take one last glance at my shiny, private office with its gray U-shaped desk and floor-to-ceiling windows. I’ll miss my front row big screen where I could people watch. Oh, and I’ll also miss the gourmet donuts Linda brings every Friday. The salted caramel, chocolate donut was my favorite…My mouth is watering just thinking about it. I wonder if they have gourmet donuts in Sunshine Shores. Something tells me they don’t…Maybe this is a mistake.
My heart is racing, so I close my eyes and take a grounding deep breath. As oxygen flows to my brain, so does my level headedness. Did I just let a potential lack of gourmet donuts make me second guess my life choices? Pull it together woman!
I gotta get out of here. Disarming the donut worry is one thing, but the sight of Bronson Campbell could bring me to my knees in front of Linda, begging for my job back. That’s right, time to go. Do not linger for one last look at him. So what if there were murmurs that he might be coming in today after a two week hiatus? None of my concern. I am starting a new life. I’m gonna find a beachy Bronson Campbell replacement to crush on. Goodbye Mountain View Press. Hello Sunshine Shores.
I’m pulling my office door shut when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I freeze momentarily while a montage plays of me spinning around to find Bronson Campbell behind me with tears in his eyes, pleading with me not to walk out that door. But alas, when I actually turn around, I find Missy Rig, the HR manager, staring at me.
“Hi Missy.”
She ignores my greeting and peers in my box. “You didn’t steal any of our office supplies did you?”
“Um, no. I just have my personal items.” I shouldn’t be surprised, Missy is…not the warmest person, which I find strange for someone in a human resources role.
“Not even a stapler? Everyone loves to take our staplers, but that’s company property.”
I didn’t steal anything that I can think of, but anytime someone questions me I feel like I must be guilty. I feel perspiration emerging on my forehead as she snoops through my box.
“Missy, seriously?” Brittany walks up, and I sigh with relief. “Leave her alone. You’re not the office supply police.”
Missy puts her hand on her hip and glares at Brittany. She opens her mouth, but then thinks better of it and marches away.
Addressing me, Brittany smiles coyly and says in a high-pitch, sing-songy voice, “I got you a going away present.”
“You did?”
“Of course, I did.” She motions for me to join her in her office. I take one step inside as she lifts a large pink box off her desk. I immediately recognize it. Gemma’s Gourmet Bakery. “Couldn’t let you leave without one last taste of salted caramel bliss.”
I immediately set my items down and grab the pink box from her hands. “I’ll just have a bite now and save the rest for later,” I say, lying to us both.
When I lift the lid, I see a half dozen circles with light brown frosting. And the beautiful thing about Gemma’s donuts…there’s no hole in the middle so you’re not skimped out of an extra bite. Which, in a sense, makes them more like little round cakes. My mouth waters at the sight of my old friends. These are different, though. Instead of little flakes of salt on top, there’s letters written in frosting.
I squint, trying to figure out what it says. “What’s this…O…Is that a B? And…a C? What’s that spell?”
“That’s not an O, it’s a heart.” Brittany peers into the box.
“Heart, B, C? I have no clue. Is this a riddle?”
“Riddles? I love riddles.”
The hair stands up on the back of my neck. I know that voice. That beautiful voice is infused with manliness and positivity. That voice is a shot of adrenaline straight to my stupid girlish heart.
“Bronson, hey.” Brittany moves to take the box from me, but I hold tight.
Her eyes widen and my grip tightens. Oh no. These donuts aren’t leaving my side. I need them. They are my crutch. If I’m holding on to something, maybe I won’t melt into a puddle.
“Hi,” I manage meekly.
“Are those Gemma’s donuts? Those are the best. Got any extras?”
“Oh I don’t know if you’d like this kind.” Brittany holds her hand firmly on top of the box.
I tilt my head at her, confused. This is Bronson Campbell. He could ask for a kidney and I’d give it to him without hesitation. Brittany knows this. Why is she being so weird?
“I promise you, I like every kind. Seriously, you cannot go wrong with Gemma’s.” He peers with his brown, precious, puppy dog, eyes at the box, and I lift the lid.
Brittany lets out what sounds like a whimper.
“What’s up with the message? Heart, B, C?”
“He got it right away,” Brittany murmurs.
At that moment, the meaning of the message hits me like cold water sloshing across my face. This cannot be happening.
Bronson studies the letters. “Love, B, C? So it’s a riddle?”
“No, no,” Brittany laughs nervously. “Carly was confused. It’s just a little inside joke…”
Leaning in, he asks, “Do I get to be in on it?”
He’s so close to me I can smell his aftershave, and it’s delightful. I stare up at his dreamy brown eyes.
Breaking my trance and saving me from drooling, Brittany says, “Oh it just stands for Be…Careful…This one”s clumsy.” She punches my shoulder. “Be careful out there…on your…new adventure.”
“Yeah,” I widen my eyes at her, my shoulder throbbing. This is not how I want Bronson to remember me. “It’s an inside joke.”
“You mentioned that,” Bronson says with a smirk. “But I never noticed…”
I feel like we are totally blowing this, so I lean into the smoke screen. “Yep, I just drop everything.”
“Remember that one time…” Brittany cups her hand around an imaginary bouquet of writing utensils. “You were carrying a bunch of pens and just…”
“Dropped them?” Bronson guesses.
I cackle nervously. “Yep.” An awkward silence follows. My brain is malfunctioning. I am not one to think on my feet. I process best through writing. I have to get out of here.
“So, Carly…” Bronson turns toward me, graciously allowing a change of subject. “I actually came down because I was sad to hear you were leaving. I was hoping we could talk.”
No, no, no, no. I cannot talk to Bronson Campbell. Must stay strong. I’m a woman on a new mission. He had three years to talk to me about anything. Business, a marriage proposal…all could have happened and it didn’t. I refuse to let anything he’s about to say hold me back.
This must be a test from the universe. And I’m going to pass it with flying colors. Emphasis on flying, because at that moment, survival mode kicks in. I grab my personal box, beeline it through the office and straight onto the elevator. When the door closes I finally exhale.