Chapter 20
?
I’m no detective, but I’m doing my best.
August
Dominic has probably already seen Kaicho wa Maid-sama. Yesterday, I referenced the episode that comes directly after the one we left off in the middle of, and he filled in the details himself.
Dominic is probably a millionaire. I have no reason to believe he’d lie about that.
Dominic has probably known me for at least a year. His tone heavily suggested as much when I asked about it.
Dominic’s teasing is…familiar.
Me: Is work a mandatory part of getting paid? Asking for a friend.
Ali: Your friend sounds like she’s about to get fired. I’m glad my sweet little employees know better.
Me: Sweet little employeeS? You have more than ONE (very special, probably favorite…) employee you’d categorize as sweet and little?
Ali: Jealous?
Me: Feverishly.
Tugging my attention off our chat, I find myself sifting through old emails, deciphering the way our relationship has steadily grown and changed over the years. Ali’s always been witty in her replies, but it’s clear a level of professionalism remained for a good, long while.
Up until…
About two months ago.
When she sent me chocolate because I was having the worst period of my life and decided that my boss needed to know about it.
After that, her messages became vaguely more familiar, many of them carrying flirtatious undertones. I didn’t quite notice until now, because it came on subtly at first. Maybe one suggestive comment every few emails in a conversation thread. Now, with us sending instant messages, it’s rampant.
I thought it was cute.
Fun.
Friendly, flirty banter.
Just what girlies do once they get close.
No big deal.
After all, Ali Montgomery is (probably) a strong independent woman leading an empire. If she doesn’t have a husband, she doesn’t want one. And she’s never crossed a line where any of her comments seem to have gone too far for friends.
I’ve not thought much of it.
Until now.
Looking past my laptop screen, I find Dominic seated on the other side of my living room in the corner of my couch, stone-faced, typing.
In this exact moment, he seems every bit the plain and boring guy he’s convinced he is.
I kind of like it, though. The juxtaposition. The dull for everyone but you vibes.
Right now, I can tell he’s hard at work. Strongly… Independently…
Were I in a higher ranking position at Mont Business and meant to deal with Ali directly, I’d have a clue about what she’s working on right now. I could even track if Dominic disappears around the same times Ali needs to take business calls or join virtual meetings.
A thought hits me, and I blink.
I look back at my computer.
I…wonder…
Opening up Mont Business’s chaos delegation program, I organize the task list by employee, find Ali, and see what she has listed as most imperative right now. According to this, she should be working on auditing a high-profile client’s package…and she has a phone call booked in about ten minutes.
Removing his earbuds, Dominic closes his laptop and rises. “I’m heading out.”
My heart skips a beat. “Where to?”
“I feel like cheese wontons. Would you like me to get us Chinese for lunch?”
I close my own laptop and set it aside. “That sounds great. Let’s go.”
“I don’t mind getting it. What’s your favorite place?” He lifts his phone. “I’ll look it up.”
“It’s a little building in a strip mall off Lincoln Street. Pretty easy to miss. I can drive.”
His attention lifts and settles, watching me. Several long moments pass. Then his stony work expression melts into a smile. “Oh. I see.” He tucks his phone back in his pocket. “You want to go on a date.”
I smile. “Well, we are technically dating now, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” He warms, thoroughly. “To think we already have plans to finish watching that anime this evening. How lucky I am to get two dates in the same day. Is there a specific occasion?”
“Infatuation, probably.” I lay a hand to my chest. “My heart’s been at a regular speed for too long, and I’m beginning to get worried.”
“You’re scared it may never race again?”
I sigh, pitiful. “I’m terrified doki doki may never appear behind my head in large, bubbly font. Naturally, I can’t bear the idea of that.”
“Naturally,” he echoes. “Am I supposed to understand what you’re saying?”
Maybe. Maybe not… “You’ll probably get it around your third anime.” I meander toward the door and my keys, waiting for something to come up that causes Dominic to suggest I go get food while he stays here—so he can take his important call.
Instead, he follows me outside, and we make it dangerously close to my car as my glasses fog up.
“Oh,” I say, blowing onto the glass in an effort to clear them.
“Oh?” he asks.
“If this is actually happening, I don’t have my purse, which means I am presently impoverished. I must return at once to my coffers and obtain the funds.”
“No worries. If this is a date, I’ll treat.” Dominic looks at me over the hood when I push my glasses back on. “What do you mean by if this is actually happening?”
Cautious, I unlock my vehicle and slide into the driver’s seat, as well as the sauna it appears to be resting in. “Nothing…”
Worried now, Dominic invests one hundred percent of his attention into me. “Are you feeling okay, August?”
“Yeah, of course.” I cut my eyes at the car clock. Two minutes. Two minutes until his important call.
If…of course…my hunch is correct, and Dominic is actually girl boss, Ali Montgomery. Which sounds ludicrous when I put it that way. But I really don’t know what else to think.
My boss’s attitude toward me trended toward flirty a month before someone appeared to confess his undying love.
That’s suspicious.
And I really, genuinely, do not know or talk to that many people.
But, okay, fine. Ninety-nine percent of my speculation rides on the sense that he’s already seen Kaicho wa Maid-sama and mixed up what episodes we rewatched last night. If you watch enough of this stuff, it all kind of becomes a blur, and it’s a miracle whenever you remember the characters’ names.
My highly professional deduction goes as follows: if he’s an anime nerd and a millionaire, he’s got to be Ali.
He’s got to be Ali, and I’ve just misgendered her.
Because what else even comes close to making any kind of sense?
To reiterate: I do not know many people, and I certainly do not know multiple millionaires.
Stalling, I take every precious moment I can inserting the keys into the ignition, flicking my attention between my passenger and the clock.
“You are not acting like you’re feeling okay at all.” His hand lifts, settles against my forehead, and pushes my hair aside so he can lean across the console and touch his head to mine.
The action is so fundamentally anime that my breath catches.
“Hm.” His eyes open, inches away. “No fever.” His lips soften into a smile as the blue of his irises pierces into me. “Your face is red, though.”
“I wonder why,” I breathe.
“Truly a mystery.” He draws back and braces his elbow against the armrest to settle his chin atop his fist. “Do I need to drive?”
Sucking in a breath, I take note of the time, furrow my brow, and buckle up. “No. I’m…fine.”
“If you’re sure. You know I’d die for you, but I did hope that if I had to, it’d be more heroic than a car crash.”
Starting the AC, I back out of my driveway, safely. “I’m not going to crash.”
“Is that what people in your business might call foreshadowing?”
My eyes roll. “Writing isn’t my business. It’s my lifeline.”
“My mistake.” A moment passes while I crawl us up the single-lane gravel road, toward the paved main roads. “What’s this place called? I’d like to look up their menu.”
I tell him, then I monitor whether or not he actually goes to and stays on the website…or if he sneakily attempts to inform his client that he’s had an emergency of some kind and will need to reschedule the call.
He barely spends three minutes deciding what he’d like to eat before he tucks his phone away again. Which is…odd.
Maybe I’m wrong.
I must be wrong, of course.
It doesn’t matter that Ali suspiciously went MIA for the first time ever shortly after Dominic showed up. It doesn’t matter that she’s the only person I’m close to but not close to who could possibly fit in the watches anime and has money box.
Ali is a girl.
Because she has to be a girl.
Because we’ve had girl talk.
And what kind of storybook magic would really make one of the most interesting and wonderful people I know turn out to be in love with me and exactly my type?
It’s far too coincidental.
Not to mention improbable.
Unfortunately, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m well on my way to eliminating the impossible, which does suggest that whatever remains must be the truth.