24. Rosy
TWENTY-FOUR
ROSY
Why do Mondays feel like the longest days at work?
It probably has something to do with all the manual work on the farm on weekends, but throw in the confusing encounters with Bry and Max and the drinks out with Steph…I’m ready for a twenty-four-hour nap. A forty-eight-hour one might be better.
“Good morning, Rosemary.”
I startle violently, and a too-wide smile spreads across Peter’s face. How does he appear so silently like that?
“Morning, Peter,” I respond, fighting the ingrained societal politeness that requires me to ask how he’s doing in return.
I’m not doing it. Manners can fuck off right now, because I don’t want to hold a conversation with him if I don’t have to. Does that make me a bad person?
He pauses, an arched brow rising expectantly. It almost works too. The crushing silence has me wincing internally, needing to fill it. Peter clears his throat, and his eyes narrow with a flicker of what looks like displeasure.
“Did you manage to locate the candidate’s details I asked for?”
Shitballs. Did I forget to do something last week? I really don’t remember that conversation at all.
“Sorry, no. Who was it for? I’ll get it sent over right away,” I apologise, internally panicking over missing something.
I don’t usually miss things because I’m constantly worried that if I do, I’ll get fired.
It’s probably irrational to think that over something so small, but nothing is guaranteed, and I need this job.
His finger taps against my desk in a rapid staccato, and I wince at his disappointment. “Check your emails; I already gave you the details. You’re better than this, Rosemary.”
He turns sharply, and his shoes clip as he strides away. My cheeks flame as I desperately search through my emails, scrolling to locate the wayward one he sent…
That asshole.
He sent it ten minutes ago.
Which meant he would’ve waited only five before coming over here and scolding me for the delay. It’s also 9:15 a.m. So I’ve only been here for fifteen minutes, working through previous emails.
Frustration swirls, slithering through my bones.
I haven’t done anything wrong.
It’s tempting to leave his request waiting, to throw a tantrum and be annoyed.
But that won’t make things easier, and I want to be as invisible as I can.
Swallowing thickly around the sudden overwhelming need to cry, I click through the files, pull up the details he requested, and get them sent over.
Admittedly, it took me a few seconds to press send.
My finger hovered over the button as I warred between being petty and choosing the easy route.
A cramp in my fingers has me pausing, and I check the time. I’ve been working for a few hours, and it’s already almost lunchtime. My back protests as I lean back in the chair and stretch, trying to get my stiff muscles to respond and ease.
Grabbing my empty water bottle, I head into the kitchen area and refill it.
My stomach stirs, protesting missing breakfast again.
Thankfully, I brought a sandwich from home, so I don’t need to buy anything.
I could pick up where I left off on the buddy read I’m doing with Noah.
An excitement I can’t explain curls at the thought of reading more and being able to talk to him about it.
I duck into the communal space, and my shoulders relax when I see that it’s empty. Most of the others either go out for lunch or take it a bit later, so it means I avoid the social small talk most of the time.
I grab my lunch container from the fridge and head back to my desk.
“Ah, Rosy. Looking good, as always, today,” Brett says from behind me, and I fight the urge to shiver as the feel of his gaze curdles my stomach. “Have you got the references back for Harriet Taylor yet?”
He completely ignores the lunch held in my hand, as I reach my desk and stop on the other side of it. I need a sign that tells everyone to leave me alone so I can have my break in peace.
Hi, Brett. I’m good. Thank you for asking. How are you?
I sink into my chair and check through my notes to see what the latest is. “I’ve emailed the company a couple of times and left a voicemail on Friday, but I haven’t received a response yet.”
“Not the answer I was hoping for. If you can get in contact with Harriet and see if she can chase it up on her side. Also try the company again today? Use some of that feminine charm you use on me.” He winks, then his eyes drop to my chest.
My stomach lurches. Brett gives me the “run as far as you can” vibe. He just feels oily.
“Sure, I can do it straight after lunch, and I’ll take a look if I can find any other contacts to try,” I promise, jotting the task on my list.
Walking backwards, he calls, “Be sure to get this sorted, Rosy. I need it done yesterday.”
I offer him a tense smile, holding back the urge to salute, as he spins and walks back down the hallway to his desk.
Dick.
Smile wilting as exhaustion hits, I open my lunch container and…
what? My sandwich is arranged differently to how I put it in.
I’m sure of it. I always place them so the cut halves meet, but instead the cut edges are both facing the right, similar to how you would see on a platter.
There’s also a slice of my apple missing, and I definitely added a chocolate bar this morning… didn’t I?
Was I more brain fogged this morning than I thought?
I need more sleep.
Brushing the concerns aside, I pull out my phone and open the audiobook app, selecting the one Noah has chosen for us, then push in my earphones and press play. The warm, deep tones of the male narrator's voice filters through, and I sink in, listening whilst I eat.
I’m partway through a chapter that has me sitting on the edge of my seat, apple slice paused at my lips. Dropping it back into my container, I pick up my phone and quickly open the message thread.
Me
I’m on Chapter 14…I did not see that coming! Where are you up to so I don’t say any spoilers?
He’s typing already, and giddiness tingles through my fingers. I didn’t realise how much I would enjoy reading with someone. Or maybe it’s just Noah.
Noah
Chapter 20. I’m just reading it now on my lunch break, so you’re not spoiling anything. I take it you’re enjoying it? How are you finding Adam’s character?
Me
Definitely don’t like him. Why does he treat his wife like that? He’s obviously the one who did it. Probably had an affair with her, because I can’t see him actually wanting to be with the wife. Or is that too obvious?
Noah
Agreed. That would be the obvious plot approach. Don’t you think it’s curious that Aubrey is always there? When you get to the village fair, let me know…interested to see your thoughts on what happens.
Noticing the time, my shoulders slump. Reading on my lunch break is not ideal; it always feels like I have to end midway through something exciting.
Me
Now you have my interest piqued… Sadly, I have to get back to work. Have a good day! X
Placing the device and my empty lunch box back into my bag, I shift my focus onto work. With the midday break over, now I can be on countdown until I’m done here for the day. I just need to survive for a few more hours.
The work phone on my desk ringing startles me from my thoughts. With my heart beating a little unsteadily, I quickly grab the receiver.
“Good afternoon. Mairweather Recruitment Services, Rosy speaking.”
Silence creeps in on the other end.
Clearing my throat, I try again. “Good afternoon. Mairweather Recruitment Services—”
“I heard you the first time, Rosemary. You should listen better, then you would have heard my reply,” Peter snips, his tone reprimanding.
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t hear—”
“I heard there was an issue with Brett’s job?” he interrupts, making me wish I hadn’t even bothered apologising.
“Just a delay with the references, as we’ve struggled to get in contact with the compa—”
“Have you sorted it?”
“Yes, I managed to find an alternative contact and have just received an email back confirming they have picked it up and will send it over to us by the end of the day.” I finally manage to finish my whole sentence.
“Good, Rosemary. You’re dependable. I like that about you. I really do.”
My throat closes, an itch crawling beneath my skin.
“I heard you had a good weekend.” It doesn’t come out as a question, but a statement.
How he knows what I got up to, I don’t know.
I haven’t spoken to anyone at the office about my weekend; I’ve never really been close to anyone here.
With my desk being in the lobby area to greet any visitors, I’m fairly isolated compared to the agents who all sit in a large open-plan office down the corridor.
I don’t know how to respond.
“Yes…I guess I did. Did you?” I ask, feigning a politeness I don’t want to feel. My mind is still busy whirling through all my recent interactions.
Did I bump into him at some point and just forget about the encounter?
No, I wouldn’t have forgotten that. Steph would definitely have given me an earful if we’d met him when we were out.
Although some parts feel a little fuzzy.
But we had a good time. It was nice to just spend some time together when we’ve both been so busy.
Sure, I may have avoided talking about the insanely handsome neighbours and redirected her every time she tried to probe…
but I wanted to get out of my thoughts for the night.
“Very much so. I went somewhere new, and the views were…thrilling, if a little crowded.” His words come out oddly intimate, as if confessing something.
“That sounds great; glad to hear it.”
A visitor enters through the door, and my shoulders drop.
Thank you, thank you. I mouth to the universe.
“Someone’s just arrived, so I have to go. Thanks, Peter.”
I drop the receiver slightly harder than necessary into its cradle, then paste on a smile and greet the woman who strides up to my desk.
“Welcome to Mairweather Recruitment Services. How can I help you?”