CHAPTER TWO
GABE
Stretching my arms above my head, my spine pops and my neck lets out some crackles that don’t sound that healthy.
Reaching for my mug of now cold coffee, I grimace down at the murky black liquid.
This can’t be that healthy either. With a last look at my dual monitors, I stand and head into the break room to dispose of my coffee and grab a bottle of water.
I run into Steve in the hallway. The strong stench of cigarettes hanging around him is enough to simultaneously turn my stomach while igniting a fierce longing that snakes through me.
My fingers tremble around the mug, the cold coffee sloshing over the brim soaking my hand before dribbling onto the gray laminate floor.
It’s been one month since my last cigarette, and I thought I’d be past this stage by now. Mark, another of my coworkers, managed to do this without the patch or any other cessation tools, so I thought for sure I could also manage it. Now I’m not so certain.
“You okay, Gabe?” Steve asks, taking in the small puddle of coffee on the floor and my tight expression.
“I’ve been better,” I admit, shaking my hand to rid myself of the remainder of the coffee clinging to it.
Steve’s heavily lined face shifts into something almost like sympathy. I’d never tell him this, but seeing how smoking has aged him was one of the reasons I finally committed to quitting.
“Anything I can help with?” he offers.
Getting out of my face so I can breathe, immediately comes to mind, but that’s the lack of nicotine speaking.
I like Steve, he’s a nice guy and a good coworker/comanager.
We’ve worked together for going on ten years and I’ve never had an issue with him.
Until I stopped smoking. So clearly the issue is all on my end.
“Nah, thanks anyway, buddy.” I nod down at the mess. “Let me get that cleaned up before someone slips and sues.”
We both chuckle and head in opposite directions.
Steve back to his office and me toward the break room.
I dump my coffee and grab a roll of paper towels and return to the spilled coffee to find someone has already walked through it.
Their wet footprints lead to the closed office door of Wayne, the newest member of our financial team.
As I’m hunkered down cleaning, I want to pound on his door and ask him why he couldn’t have looked where he was walking, but that’s ridiculous.
It’s not his fault that I spilled my coffee any more than it is Steve’s fault.
Balling up the used paper towels, I throw them in the trash before dumping my coffee and washing the mug and my hands. At the fridge, I get my first bit of good news all day. It’s fully stocked with water.
Slumping into one of the molded white plastic and silver metal breakroom chairs, I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a sigh that does no good.
I’m exhausted, on edge, and unhappy. Which is a laugh because I lead a charmed life.
Most men would love to be me, and there’s no false modesty in that statement.
Hell, twenty years ago, this is what I aspired to be.
I’ve met all my personal goals. Except in one area.
With forty only a few months away, I’m still single.
I thought I’d be married and have a family by now.
Sadly, that didn’t happen. I’ve long gotten over Deena’s betrayal and don’t think wanting monogamy in a relationship is asking for too much.
Despite all my big talk of having gotten over my broken engagement I haven’t been pursuing relationships when dating, though I also haven’t been doing much dating the past two years.
I haven’t given up entirely. Though I have decided that the so-called “right one” simply isn’t out there.
Mark comes strolling in, a big shit-eating grin on his face.
Ever since he started dating Amelia, the daughter of our former coworker Chris, he’s been in a good mood.
He’s still the same jackass he’s always been, but less surly.
He plops down in the seat opposite me and stretches out his legs, his blue eyes assessing me.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I sarcastically snap back.
Laughing, Mark crosses his arms over his chest while his calculating eyes continue to rip me apart. “There’s no shame in using the patch.”
Rolling my neck, another minute click sounds, further souring my mood. I think I need a full body massage more than a nicotine patch. “I’m fine.”
“Buddy, you look the furthest thing from fine.”
Wayne comes in, his eyes darting between me and Mark.
At twenty-two, he’s the youngest man in our office and the newest. He also reminds me of an overeager puppy dog, all big brown eyes and quick to get involved in everything.
As he pulls out the chair between us, I contemplate heading back to my office but really don’t want to stare at my computer again.
“Hey guys, what’s going on?”
Mark gestures with his chin at me. “Just telling Gabe how much he looks like shit.”
Wayne’s brown eyes expand and his mouth drops. You would think after six months of working around Mark he’d be used to him. You’d be wrong. Poor Wayne is just as stunned as he was on his first day here. He’s a great guy, smart and dependable, so I’m hopeful Mark doesn’t scare him away.
“You do look a little tired,” Wayne puts in meekly.
“Been on any dates lately?” Mark asks.
I contemplate not answering him. We’re not friends despite our many years of working together. I don’t want to be an ass like him, though. “No.”
Mark’s grin widens. “Well, today’s your lucky day. You’re going to want to meet Amelia’s friend Taylor.”
My eyebrows slowly lift, and I cross my arms, mirroring his stance. “Oh, and why is that?”
“Cause she’s a knockout and the kind of excitement you need to liven your life up.”
“What about me?” Wayne pipes up.
My eyes shoot to him and a bit of my irritation transfers to him. Before I can say anything, Mark starts laughing.
“Sorry, Wayne. Gabe needs this more than you do, and I doubt you could handle a woman like Taylor.”
Wayne pouts and I’m even more intrigued.
I’d known of Amelia because of her dad and never thought of her as anything other than a coworker’s kid.
There was no denying she had grown up to be a beautiful woman though, and a very nice one at that.
I haven’t met too many women that interested me and were nice lately and I had no doubt that any friend of Amelia would indeed be sweet.
“Okay, tell me more,” I request.
Mark grins. “Blonde, blue eyes, and curves for days.”
After a beat, I realize he’s not going to go into further details. “And?”
“And? What do you mean and? She’s hot. Be thankful I’m going to give you her number.”
He’s doing me a favor and manages to sound like a prick while doing it. Typical Mark. It’s tempting to blow him off and wipe the self-satisfied grin off his face. Yet that would be cutting off my own nose to spite my face and I’m not going to sink to his level.
“I am thankful.” I pull out my phone. “What’s her number?”