Chapter 27 - Day 9 Not a Date
Thursday morning, Ethan put a box on my desk.
Not a file.
Not a drawing.
A box.
I looked at it.
Then at him.
"What is this?"
"A gift."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It actually answers it perfectly."
I looked at the box again.
Ethan leaned against the edge of my desk, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Why are you giving me a gift?"
"Because you're leaving."
My hand stopped on the lid.
Right.
Six days including today.
Five after I walked out of here at five.
Apparently Ethan had decided we were starting the morning with emotional violence.
"That was unnecessarily depressing."
"Open the box."
"Is it going to make this less depressing?"
"Probably."
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Probably?"
"Open it, Angelica."
I pulled the lid off.
There was a mug inside.
White.
Black letters.
I lifted it out.
And read.
I stared at it.
Then at Ethan.
"You're my favorite coworker?"
He smiled.
"Apparently."
"According to who?"
He pointed at the mug.
"It's right there."
"You bought this."
"That is an accusation you cannot prove."
"Ethan."
"Angelica."
"You literally just gave it to me."
"Exactly."
I looked at the mug again.
Then back at him.
"So you bought me a mug announcing that you're my favorite coworker."
"I thought it would save you the trouble of telling everyone individually."
I laughed.
"You're unbelievable."
"I'm thoughtful."
"You're arrogant."
"Also true."
I turned the mug around.
Same message on the other side.
Of course.
"You put it on both sides?"
"I didn't manufacture it."
"But you chose it."
"Very carefully."
I shook my head.
"This is ridiculous."
"You're keeping it."
"I haven't decided."
"You laughed."
"That isn't legally binding."
"It is where gifts are concerned."
"That's not how gifts work."
"Too late."
He pushed himself away from my desk.
"Coffee tastes better when consumed from a mug given to you by your favorite coworker."
"You're really committed to this."
"I've committed to worse ideas."
"I believe that."
He put a hand over his heart.
"Cruel."
"You'll recover."
Ethan stared at me.
I froze.
Oh God.
Not again.
His eyebrows lifted.
"Was that Vale?"
"No."
"That was absolutely Vale."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're starting to sound like him."
"I am not."
"That was disturbing."
"Go away."
He laughed and started walking backward.
"Enjoy the mug."
"I hate the mug."
"You love the mug."
"I tolerate the mug."
"That's basically love from you."
"Goodbye, Ethan."
He turned and walked away.
I looked at the mug.
It was stupid.
Completely stupid.
I smiled anyway.
"That's cute."
I looked over.
Maya had appeared beside me.
Of course she had.
"Where did you come from?"
"My desk."
"You need a hobby."
"I have one."
I waited.
She looked at the mug.
Right.
Apparently I was the hobby.
She picked it up.
"Your favorite coworker?"
"Self-appointed."
"Bold."
"Delusional."
"Still cute."
She put it back down.
Then her eyes moved past me.
Her expression changed.
Not much.
Just enough.
I knew.
I didn't turn around immediately.
Because I had dignity.
Approximately three seconds of it.
Then I looked.
Adrian was walking toward us.
Deep burgundy shirt.
Black tie.
Dark pants.
Oh, for God's sake.
Wednesday had apparently not exhausted his wardrobe's capacity for violence.
The burgundy was deep.
Dark wine.
Almost exactly the color threaded through the highlights in my hair.
I reached up before I could stop myself and touched one of the strands near my shoulder.
Then immediately dropped my hand.
Absolutely not.
He did not get to accidentally coordinate with my hair.
Five days after today.
I really needed that sentence to start helping.
It wasn't.
Adrian reached my desk.
His eyes went to me first.
Then Maya.
Then the drawings in his hand.
Then-
The mug.
He stopped.
His eyes stayed on it for a second.
Long enough to read.
Then another second.
I watched his face.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Of course.
His eyes lifted to mine.
"New mug?"
Maya made a suspicious choking sound beside me.
I ignored her.
"Gift."
His gaze dropped to it again.
"From?"
Before I could answer-
"Me."
Ethan.
Of course.
He had apparently chosen this exact moment to come back.
Adrian looked over my shoulder.
Ethan stopped beside my desk.
For a second, nobody said anything.
Then Adrian looked at the mug again.
"Apparently."
Ethan smiled.
"It's in writing."
Adrian's eyes dropped lower.
Specifically, to the little red heart underneath the words.
His expression changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
"There's a heart."
I looked at the mug.
"Excellent observation."
Ethan leaned back slightly.
"It came with the design."
Adrian looked at him.
"Did it."
It wasn't a question.
Ethan's mouth twitched.
"Would you prefer I submit supporting documentation?"
"No."
"Receipts?"
"No."
"Witness testimony?"
"Ethan."
"Understood."
I looked between them.
Adrian looked back at the mug.
His jaw tightened.
Oh my God.
He was sulking over the heart.
A tiny printed heart.
On a mug.
This was a thirty-eight-year-old CEO.
"Adrian."
"What?"
"It's part of the mug."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
"My face didn't say anything."
Ethan nodded solemnly.
"His face has raised several concerns."
Adrian looked at him.
Ethan immediately looked away.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Adrian looked at the mug one last time.
Then at me.
His expression remained perfectly serious.
"Compelling evidence."
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Ethan nodded.
"Exactly what I said."
"No, you didn't," I said.
"Close enough."
Adrian placed the drawings on my desk.
"Revised structural coordination."
I looked down.
"You changed something."
"Two things."
"Anything stupid?"
"Review it and tell me."
I looked up.
"That sounds dangerously like you're asking for my opinion."
"I've made worse decisions."
My mouth twitched.
His eyes stayed on mine for half a second.
Then dropped briefly to the mug.
And moved away.
"Before ten."
"Fine."
Adrian turned and walked toward his office.
Maya watched him go, then looked at the mug.
"Compelling evidence."
I picked up the mug.
"Don't start."
"I was quoting him."
"That's what worries me."
She laughed and went back to her desk.
I looked at the words on the mug.
Then toward Adrian's office.
His door closed.
I looked back at the mug.
Six days including today.
Five after five o'clock.
And somehow, before eight-thirty in the morning, Ethan had declared himself my favorite coworker.
Thursday was going well.
By ten-fifteen, my new mug had already become part of my desk.
Which was unfortunate.
Because Ethan noticed.
He walked past, saw it beside my monitor, and stopped.
"You're using it."
I kept typing.
"It's a functional object."
"You're using it."
"I needed somewhere to put coffee."
"There are cups in the kitchen."
"This one was closer."
His smile widened.
"Favorite coworker."
"Keep walking."
He did.
Still smiling.
I shook my head and went back to the Solara coordination notes.
"Angelica?"
I looked up.
Claire was standing beside my desk with a folder tucked beneath one arm.
"Do you have a few minutes?"
"Sure."
She pulled the empty chair over.
"I want to start transitioning some of your Solara work."
Oh.
There it was.
Not if I left.
Not in case I left.
Transitioning.
Because I was leaving.
"Okay."
Claire opened the folder.
"I'd like Nicole to take over the material coordination you've been handling. Daniel can absorb most of the drawing-set reviews, but there are a few things I want you to walk him through before your last day."
I nodded.
"That's fine."
"And I'd like you to put together a short handover document. Nothing excessive. Current issues, pending decisions, consultant contacts, anything you think someone taking over your work should know."
"Okay."
Claire studied me for a second.
"You all right?"
"Yeah."
I was.
This was normal.
Responsible.
Exactly what a company was supposed to do when someone resigned.
So why did hearing it feel like somebody had started erasing me from the building?
I pulled the folder toward me.
"I can start this today."
"Thank you."
She stood.
"I'll send Nicole over when she's free."
"Okay."
Claire walked away.
I stared at the folder.
Five days after today.
Apparently five days was close enough to start distributing pieces of my job.
I opened a new document.
I stared at the title.
Then started typing.
Twenty minutes later, Nicole rolled her chair over.
"Claire says I'm inheriting your material coordination."
"My condolences."
"Thank you. I'm devastated."
"You should be."
She pulled her laptop closer.
I opened the current material schedule.
"Okay. Most of this is straightforward, but there are three suppliers you need to watch."
"Why?"
"One replies four days late, one sends whatever he wants instead of what you asked for, and one apparently believes attachment names are a form of abstract art."
Nicole laughed.
"Which one is the worst?"
"Wait until you receive FINAL_FINAL_REVISED_7."
"Oh no."
"There was an eight."
"Of course there was."
I started walking her through the outstanding approvals.
For the next half hour, it was easy.
Normal.
Work.
Nicole asked questions.
I answered them.
We argued briefly about my filing system.
She was wrong.
Then I showed her where I kept the supplier correspondence, the finish approvals, and the notes from the last Solara review.
And somewhere in the middle of explaining a stone specification I'd reviewed approximately fourteen times-
I looked up.
Adrian was standing outside his office.
Not moving.
His eyes were on us.
More specifically-
On the folder between Nicole and me.
The one Claire had labeled:
Our eyes met.
He didn't look away.
Neither did I.
Nicole kept talking beside me.