Chapter 6
"S o, are you going as well?"
Carly forked a lettuce, her brow raised at me in question. She and I were out for lunch, something we did now and then as a team or just the two of us. I hadn't gone out with her for coffee or lunch in a couple of weeks, though.
That stupid fight Frankie and I had after Sene’s dinner remained stubbornly stuck to me, guilting me with each remembered word I’d uttered.
I'd apologized the next day, and she graciously accepted, but I could tell by the dull light behind her normally expressive eyes that she was tired of my bullshit. I was tired of my bullshit. I truly wanted to sort out our problems, but every time I opened my mouth to start the process, the words strangled me.
"Going where?"
I'd already powered through my meal. The guilt of spending time outside work with someone that bothered my wife—unnecessarily, of course—poked the back of my mind.
"To the expo in Charleston."
My brow raised. "You're going?"
She nodded. "They asked all the account managers, but only Ben and I can. Ben's good with the words, so I don't know why they invited me. I hate small talk."
"You're there to look good and draw in the customers."
A flirty smile dimpled her cheeks. "You think I'm good eye candy?"
I could feel a flush rising at her naked teasing. "You know you are.” The words were out of my mouth before I stopped to think.
I cursed my stupidity. Why had I added that? I didn't even mean my original comment that way. Did I think Carly was attractive? Yes. There were a few guys in the office who'd hit on her and openly commented that they found her hot. I wasn’t blind, she was pretty.
She and I had indulged in light flirting; but lately, I'd come to feel a little odd about our exchanges—like we were doing something wrong. Was it because Frankie had called me out on it? There was no denying Carly and I had become closer since she'd been promoted, but it wasn't until recently that I became more aware of our friendship. Of her .
Carly often wore tight clothes to the office: short skirts and low-cut tops. I didn't think twice about it. But I couldn’t deny that, lately, I’d found my gaze lingering for a split second on her ass when she bent over near my desk, or quickly dipping to her cleavage when she hovered down to show me a document.
It was nothing. I was only noticing something that was right in front of me. Something attractive. Just like Frankie gushed over Idris Elba and his "hotness." It was harmless.
"How many are going?"
She sat back and stroked a hand over her throat. My eyes focused on her face and then back to my empty plate.
"They'll be four of us."
I nodded, thankful that there were more people. I didn't need a buffer, but Frankie would hit the roof if she knew Carly was part of the team heading to Charleston. "It'll be nice to take a break from the mundane office shit. I'm looking forward to just taking videos and photos to post and not having to network."
"Oh, yeah, you studied cinematography or something."
"It's more of a hobby now." Something I hadn't done for pleasure in a long time, even photography.
"Frankie and I traveled a lot when we were young. We made ourselves broke taking photos in all sorts of exotic locations."
I smiled fondly as I remembered the fun we had indulging in our shared passion. Even when we returned to the States and settled down, we still took off on weekend hikes to camp and find new things to shoot. It had been so long since we'd done that. My job tired me out, and Frankie usually worked a shoot on the weekend. We’d take the odd day trip on the rare weekends we both had free, but that had been over a year ago. I'd stopped agreeing to go anywhere, citing exhaustion. Soon, she'd stopped asking altogether.
I missed being out doing what I loved, something I'd dreamed would be a long-lasting and sustainable career. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anything interesting in my field, and I needed a stable job. We were back in the real world and couldn't live on hopes and dreams.
At first, Frankie had been the same; working for some generic photography company that dulled her passion. Until she took a risk and started working freelance. I encouraged her, knowing she would succeed. And she did. She was flourishing and I was so proud of her.
"Well, you're doing great as head of marketing. I think you've found your calling." Her smile was sly. "Plus, I'd be so sad if you left me."
The sandwich I’d eaten sat like a rock in my stomach. I turned away from her knowing pout.