Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
E vie
We exit Pickled Dish at fifteen minutes to two with the intention of parting ways. My boss has a meeting in the financial district, and I’m heading back to the office to carry on with the list of tasks he emailed me this morning.
Surprisingly, not one of them involves me racing around the city finding items for him. Most days, I feel like I’m on a timed scavenger hunt, so this is a welcome break.
“I should be back at the office before you leave for the day,” he says, but his gaze is stuck on something over my left shoulder. “If this meeting runs long, I’ll touch base before quitting time.”
“ Quitting time ” is a fleeting concept in my world. My contract doesn’t specify a time that my workday ends. That’s always been at Mr. Hunt’s discretion.
“You expect to be back by six?” I toss the question out there as if that’s the time I typically break free of the office.
“What was that?” He raises his hand as he asks the question.
I know the gesture isn’t directed at me, so I glance over my shoulder and curse under my breath. “Goddammit.”
Magnus Brewster is on the approach, and since I don’t want him to see my face, I quicken this goodbye so I can get out of his line of sight as soon as possible. I don’t need him to tell my boss that we slept together even though we didn’t.
I didn’t think the exchange I had with Mr. Brewster on the subway would come back to haunt me.
“I’ll talk to you later, sir,” I toss those words out as I brush past him to make my way in the wrong direction.
“The office is that way, Evie,” he calls after me, but I don’t turn back.
I can’t because if I did, I’d have to explain why I lied to one of his former clients, and although I don’t think Reid considers Magnus a friend, I know he values every deal he’s handled.
I chuckle as I turn the corner, heading to the subway stop I need to get to. “Magnus probably doesn’t even remember me. Men like that forget a woman as soon as she’s out of sight.”
Anticipation races through me as I approach my desk.
That’s not because I’m looking forward to sitting down to reply to the emails waiting for me. I’m giddy about the huge bouquet of wildflowers sitting in a tall pink vase on the corner of my desk.
They weren’t there when I left for lunch with my boss.
As I set my phone and the lemonade I bought on my way back to the office on my desk, I notice a small pink envelope nestled within the brightly colored blossoms. With shaking hands, I reach for it.
“Oh, what is this?” Cleo’s voice comes at me from behind. “Do tell, Evie. What’s his name and what’s he like?”
With the envelope clutched in my hand, I turn to face her. “What? Who?”
“Exactly.” She nods. “What’s he like, and more importantly, who is he?”
Since I have no idea who the flowers are from, I shrug. “I’m not sure.”
“Are you seeing more than one guy?” Her entire face beams with a broad smile. “Look at you being young and single in the big city.”
I laugh that off. “I’m far from that.”
“Open it and see who they’re from,” she encourages as she points at the envelope. “Or maybe before you do, you can tell me who you hope they’re from.”
I don’t have to give that more than a second of thought because I hope they’re from my boss.
It’s such a far-fetched notion that I let out a squeak of a laugh.
“What’s going on with you?” Cleo questions as she squeezes my forearm. “There is a guy in the picture, isn’t there?”
“I think they’re from my mom,” I say, even though she’s never sent me flowers.
My mom loves receiving flowers, but when it comes to sending them, she’d much rather direct the money toward a gift card for a restaurant or cash to put on my Metrocard.
“You won’t know until you crack the seal on that envelope.”
Convinced that the flowers are not from a man, I slip the tip of my fingernail under the seal and break it. As soon as I slide out the card, I read the printed text.
To the best maid of honor ever.
I hope these brighten your day.
Love,
Lottie
Cleo leans closer to steal a look at the card, so I make it easy on her and turn it toward her.
“You’re a maid of honor? Is the bride an old friend?”
“A new friend,” I say. “With the potential to be an old one in twenty years.”
A light laugh escapes her. “All lasting friendships have to start somewhere.”
She’s right, so I nod. “I need to get to work.”
“I need a moment with the ogre.” She glances past me to Mr. Hunt’s empty office. “Where is he?”
Hopefully, he’s no longer within speaking distance of Magnus Brewster. If all went according to plan, the two men shared a brief, yet cordial, exchange on the sidewalk outside of Pickled Dish before Mr. Hunt raced off to his meeting.
“He should be back before the end of the day,” I tell Cleo. “Do you want me to ask Mr. Hunt to call you?”
“He’s here now and won’t be taking any calls.” Mr. Hunt’s voice reaches me before he comes into view behind Cleo. “My office now, Miss Starling.”
Uh oh.
Cleo glances at me as my boss brushes past us on his way to his office. Before walking away, she leans closer to whisper, “He’s back to calling you Miss Starling. That can’t be good.”
I don’t bother to thank her for pointing out the obvious. Instead, I place the card from the flowers on my desk, smooth both palms over the skirt of my dress, and follow Reid into his office, shutting the door behind me.