Chapter 23
Monday, December 17
Despite not having slept that many hours, I got up early Monday morning and headed for the kitchen. As I prepared toast, freshly sliced fruit, and a couple of poached eggs while Marco slept, I kept thinking about what a fun time we’d had at the Holiday Dip, and afterward.
We’d spent the evening at my apartment, eating Thai takeout after a hot shower together and drinking a few of Anita’s delicious lime-green Grinch cocktails from ice-filled tumblers before watching Game of Thrones . Marco had cursed out loud when they killed off his favorite character, insisting he couldn’t believe I hadn’t warned him, so I made it up to him with another passionate night in bed.
As if on cue, Marco now walked into the kitchen wearing his jeans but no shirt, his dark hair a perfectly tousled mess. “Morning, gorgeous. Did you cook for us? That’s awesome.”
“Don’t get too excited,” I said, setting our plates on the table. “It’s only poached eggs.”
“If you’ve mastered those, you can pretty much cook anything.” He followed my lead and took a seat before cutting through the waxy yolk, which he declared sublime. “Is that your next Advent calendar treat?” He gestured at the six-inch cube Anita had wrapped in blue and yellow paper. “Are you going to open it? I swear, the suspense is already killing me.”
My grin broadened. “Are you this impatient on Christmas morning?”
“No, I’m way worse.”
“You probably got your family up at six, didn’t you?”
“Six?” Marco raised his eyebrows. “Why so late? My record was three.”
I gasped. “Three in the morning? Did they send you back to bed and put coal in your stocking?”
He shook his head. “Neither. In our house we all had to get up as soon as the first person shouted, ‘Santa’s been!’ I guess it was kind of ridiculous, seeing as it was almost always the middle of the night.”
“No, it’s fun.” I pictured Marco as a young child, his hair sticking out even more haphazardly than it was now, his eyes wide with excitement. “What other traditions did you have?”
“Let me see…Mom always hid a pickle ornament in the tree. Syd and I never knew when it might show up, so we checked as soon as we came home from school. Whoever found it got to choose a dessert to make with Mom that day.”
“What a fun tradition.”
Marco laughed. “It was, until Syd and I toppled the tree in our rush to find the pickle and destroyed half the stuff on it. From then on, it was a case of unbreakable ornaments only until pickle day had passed.”
“Very sensible. What else did you do together?”
“We had Christmas family photos taken each year, one of which Dad made into our holiday card. He always picked the goofiest picture.”
“That’s fun.” I covered Marco’s hand with mine, relishing his touch. “It sounds like you and your family enjoy the holidays a lot, too.”
“We really do,” Marco said as Dazey jumped into his lap, purring. “Mom still organizes a cookie exchange every year, and she always makes the most basic recipes because she doesn’t want anyone else who’s participating to be put off by her expertise.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, my family’s great.” Marco picked up the gift-wrapped box. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I have to leave soon, so will you please open this already?”
“Christmas with you is going to be fun, isn’t it?” I said with a laugh. When he blinked a couple of times and looked at me with a wide grin, I quickly added, “Was that a bit forward? I mean, I thought it made sense because we’re both in town alone, so if you want to and you’re not busy with work or anything, because I shouldn’t be, at least I don’t think so, but maybe…”
I stopped jabbering when Marco gently lifted Dazey from his lap, set her on the floor, and scooped me into his arms for a long kiss before saying, “I’d love to wake up on Christmas Day with you. It’ll be the perfect gift.”
We kissed again before I reached for the Advent calendar treat. As soon as I tore off the wrapping paper and opened the top flap of the box underneath, I turned the whole thing upside down, giving it a good shake.
“Neat,” Marco said when a tiny toy abacus key chain tumbled into my hand.
“There’s something else.” I pulled out the cerulean fabric wedged inside the box before unfolding it. It was a T-shirt, the words LIFO THE PARTY written in big white letters across the front. Anita had stuck another of her notes on the front of the box, and I read it out loud. “You will be the life of the party again when this Christmas countdown is done with you.”
Marco rubbed a hand over his stubble. “What does ‘LIFO’ mean? Hold on, let me guess.” He snapped his fingers. “I know. Love is for the openhearted.”
“Adorable, but no. It’s an accounting method for inventory. Last in, first out.”
“That’s even more obscure than ‘Freak in the Sheets.’?” Marco chuckled. “Which, by the way, I think is a highly accurate description of you, and I’m not talking about your Excel skills.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Here I was, thinking you hadn’t noticed that shirt.”
“Oh, I noticed it all right,” Marco replied with a cheeky grin.
“Is that so?” I leaned forward and whispered, “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”
“No, ma’am.” Marco shook his head slowly. “Definitely not complaining. Not at all.”
—
When I arrived at the office an hour later and plopped into my seat with a long and happy sigh, Hazel stared at me. “What have you been up to?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
She pointed at me and waved her finger in a circle. “Ruffled hair, flushed cheeks, wide-eyed grin…” She let out a gasp. “You’ve had sex . Lots and lots of sex .”
“How could you possibly know?” I stifled a laugh as I pressed both palms over my face, feeling the prickling heat beneath my skin.
“Was it with Marco?” she asked, and when I nodded, she clapped her hands and let out a squeal so I shushed her. “And your LIFO shirt,” Hazel continued, ignoring me. “I love it.”
“Another gift from Anita. Cute, huh? I wanted to show you, but I’d better get changed before Grant sees me and flips his lid.” I stuck my hand in my bag. “Uh-oh…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I left my blouse on the sideboard at home.”
“I’m sensing you were more interested in taking clothes off than putting them on.” Hazel grinned as she glanced around and leaned in. “Spill the details about you and Marco. How did this come about?”
I was unable to stop another humongous smile from taking over my face as soon as she said his name. Hazel jumped up, declaring we needed coffee and pulling me to the empty kitchenette. I gave her some details of what had developed over the weekend but kept a lot to myself, not yet ready to share because it was so new, precious, and I didn’t want to put a label on what was going on between us.
“You’re falling for him,” Hazel said as she observed me. “I can see it. I can hear it.”
“I really like him,” I admitted. “We click, you know? He’s kind and funny.”
“Don’t forget hot.”
“That’s impossible to miss,” I replied with a laugh.
“He doesn’t happen to have a brother, does he?” she asked.
“Yes, but he’s spoken for.”
“Rats. Oh well, I’m thrilled for you.” Hazel beamed. “Marco sounds absolutely perfect, and it’s about time you dated again.”
When someone coughed behind us, I spun around in my seat. Oliver hovered in the doorway with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Was it shock? Jealousy? Anger? How much of our conversation had he overheard?
“Need a coffee fix.” His expression turned to neutral as he held up his mug. “New shirt, Callie? Don’t love the pun, but the color looks good on you.”
“Thanks.” I turned around fully to face him. “Not sure LIFO describes me though.”
“Don’t you?” Oliver’s expression was tinged with what looked a little like sadness. “You’ve had a few party-animal moments. Remember the Meyer Christmas Eve bash a few years ago? The one that spilled into Christmas morning when we all ended up in a snowball fight in our pjs?”
“With the amount of my dad’s holiday punch I had that night, the details have stayed more than a little fuzzy,” I said, smiling at the booze-filled memories. “I’m not sure I could manage that kind of pace now.”
“Sure, you could.” Oliver’s voice hardened. “Especially with the amount of practice you’ve been getting lately.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my voice slow and steady.
“Nothing,” Oliver replied. “Nothing at all.”
“Are you sure?” I said. “Because if there’s something you need to say or want to ask me, Oliver, you can do so directly.”
“I said it’s nothing,” he insisted, his tone curt. “It was a joke, Callie. Calm down. There’s no need for you to take things so seriously.”
Hazel gave me a wide-eyed look, and we all fell silent as Oliver prepared his drink. “Holy moly,” she whispered once he stomped off without saying another word. “What a grumpy—”
She stopped talking when we both noticed someone else in the doorway. It was Grant, his voice icy. “Callie. A word.”
I had no clue what he wanted, but got up, followed him across the office and into the smaller conference room. Grant closed the door behind us and gestured for me to sit. When I noticed he had no intention of joining me at the table, I remained standing, glad the boots I’d chosen this morning had heels, putting us at a near equal height.
“I overheard you speaking with Oliver in the kitchen,” Grant said. “I see you two still aren’t getting along.”
“We’re fine. There’s no problem.”
“Didn’t sound like it to me,” he replied. “It’s clear you have unresolved personal business with him.”
I crossed my arms, knowing I shouldn’t because of the negativity my body language exuded, but I couldn’t help it. “Are you going to reprimand Oliver this way?”
Grant took a deep breath. “I don’t think he’s the one with the problem.”
“What, exactly, are you saying?”
He sighed. “I’ve already warned you about letting your emotions get the better of you. You’ve been combative about the changes to the finance team.”
“ Combative ?” I forced myself to stay calm, which was becoming increasingly impossible.
“See?” He tapped a fingertip on the table. “You’re doing it again.”
“Grant,” I said. “I’m not being combative. Perhaps you feel that way because I’ve pointed out how some of your decisions don’t make sense. I’m being assertive, so—”
“Also, I’ve already mentioned our corporate dress code to you, which”—he made a sweeping gesture toward my shirt—“you aren’t listening to, either. Honestly, I’m not sure how much you care about this job. Maybe you can’t see clearly because of the situation with your ex.”
Instead of being intimidated by Grant’s words, they had the opposite effect. The seeds of confidence that had been sown since Anita had gifted me the Advent calendar at the beginning of December suddenly surged and bloomed.
I didn’t want to put up with Grant’s crappy attitude or bend myself around his requirements. Didn’t care for working in an environment where I wasn’t allowed to take initiative, my opinions weren’t valued, and I was continually treated like a child. Enough was quite simply enough, and for once I didn’t need to consider my response twenty times, either.
“You know what, Grant? You’re almost right, because—”
“Glad you agree.” Smugness dripped from my boss’s voice. “Here’s what’s going to happen. From now on you’ll—”
“No.” I held up a hand and saw his expression immediately change to a deep scowl. “It’s not the job I don’t care about or value. It’s not my history with Oliver that’s the problem.” I shook my head, my resolve growing further still, transforming my backbone into titanium. “The problem is working for you .”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re all telling you the way you’ve siloed the department is a terrible decision and yet you refuse to listen,” I said, my confidence growing with every word. “You don’t care about our software recommendations. You have a fantastic team out there, but in two weeks flat, you’ve destroyed the morale Jennifer worked so hard to create.”
Grant’s face seemed to have developed a case of instant sunburn. As the CEO’s son-in-law, he probably thought he was untouchable, always beyond fault. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and eventually opted for, “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”
“Yes, I do. Someone who loves clichés but who won’t put his money where his mouth is, and certainly doesn’t walk the talk.”
“Callie, if you don’t stop, I’ll have to—”
“Report me to HR?” I asked with a sarcastic laugh. “Not if I report you first. But what’s the point? I loved working with Jennifer, but you’ve wrecked my job and you’re destroying the team, and…you know what? I’m done.”
“Glad you’ve come to your senses,” Grant said. “Maybe you should think before you speak next time.”
I shook my head. “When I said I’m done, I mean I quit. I’m leaving.”
“What? No, Callie, wait,” Grant said. “You can’t. Not when you’re leading the closing of the financial year. You have to be here in January. I won’t allow you to leave.”
“That’s not your decision to make. It’s mine, and I’m giving you my two weeks’ notice. I’ll email you and Tim as soon as I get to my desk to make it official.”
“That’s not how things work around here.” His tone frosted right back over. “Anyone who resigns goes with immediate effect. You’ll be escorted out the door. Everyone will see.”
“Perfect,” I said, my smile bright. “It’ll give me a chance to say goodbye.”
Although my heart thumped and my knees trembled, I pulled open the conference room door and walked out with my head held high, all the way to the supply cupboard, where I located an empty box.
I looked around the office, trying to find Hazel, but when I got back to our cubicle, I saw a note from her stuck on my keyboard. Mikey split his lip. Went to pick him up. Talk later.
“Callie.” Oliver rushed over, a confused look on his face. “What’s going on? Grant told me to change your passwords.”
“That was quick,” I said.
“Did he fire you?” Oliver asked, gesturing for me to step away from the cubicle and into the empty corridor, away from everybody else. “I’ll talk to him. Convince him to reconsider.”
“No need. It was my choice.”
“You quit?” His eyes widened. “But…you can’t leave.”
“Yes, I can. The team will cope and—”
“That’s not what I meant.” Oliver shook his head and lowered his voice to whisper. “If you go, when will I see you?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “Seeing me on a regular basis is a privilege you gave up when you left me.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he said quickly. “What…what are you going to do now?”
I looked at him and waited for a sense of panic to wash over me, but it didn’t come. “I don’t know that either, but I’m excited to find out.”
Not ten minutes later, I walked out of the Whitlock & Blake building for the last time. Pulling out my phone, and with wide smile on my face, I tapped on Marco’s number. “Hey, Eggnog Man,” I said as soon as he answered. “Bet you’ll never guess what I just did.”