Chapter 7
SEVEN
SAVANNAH
This Christmas
Manhattan, New York
Two days later
Me: I sent you the Davis reports. Did you get them?
Mr. (I Don’t Know What ‘Off Day’ Means) West: You did a good job. What about the Harrison ones?
Me: I’ll have them to you at five.
Mr. (I Don’t Know What ‘Off Day’ Means) West: Are you having a good off day today?
Me: If I was, I wouldn’t be texting you.
Mr. (I Don’t Know What ‘Off Day’ Means) West: Good to know. Tomorrow, on your other off day, send me the Turner files.
Iwait until midnight to send his requested files, and even though I try to make myself get out of the apartment and traipse around the city like a local, I eventually wind up at a coffee shop where I complete assignments on my phone and fail to forget about that kiss.
It’s not until the third ‘off day’ that I manage to spend an entire two hours without thinking about work at all. I spend most of it in the newbie’s aisle at Whole Foods, trying to figure out why the food I make always turns out horribly.
When I finally make it home from the grocery store, Georgia is jumping on my living room couch like a three-year-old.
I blink a few times to make sure I’m not imagining this. She should be on a plane heading home to Colorado, sending me guilt texts about my refusal to join her.
She should be watching me toss our cousin Taryn’s annual gift to me into the trash via FaceTime and telling me that it’s okay for me to continue hating her.
“Why is your furniture so soft?” She jumps a bit higher. “I mean, this stuff is on par with hotel quality, and your bathroom suite is stunning! The pictures you sent me did not do it justice, so I’ll need an invite to come crash here at least six times a year.”
I smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprising you.” She jumps off and hugs me. “I’m sorry that Joshua dumped you like that. You know I hated his cheap ass anyway. You can do better, much better.”
“Thanks. How’d you get here?”
“Your boss,” she says. “He sent me a first-class plane ticket and said you desperately needed someone to talk to. He said you’re not being as mean to him as you usually are around this time of year and he was getting concerned.”
“He did not say that.”
“He did.” She pulls out her phone. “He also was generous enough to give me a credit card for dinner tonight. I bought a few Birkin bags with it to make sure it was real, so you’ll need to pretend like those are yours. Where would you like to go?”
“Nowhere. I have to finish a project,” I say. “We’ll need to get something to go.”
“Of course.” She rolls her eyes. “You know, I’m starting to think that maybe your boss isn’t so bad after all.”
“Excuse me?” I cross my arms. “You do remember that he’s the same man who flew to Punta Cana to make us leave, right?”
“I remember we left for Hawaii to escape the storm.”
“This is the same man I call and complain to you about every day.” I glare at her. “Every. Day.”
“Yes, and no.” She smiles. “You two could probably date each other if you wanted to. You have a lot in common, and you do spend a lot of time together.”
I give her a blank stare. “Garrett has a girlfriend.”
“Does she know about you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That if I met a guy like Garrett and he was talking on the phone to some other woman in the middle of the night—even if it was all “work,” I would not have a boyfriend.” She shakes her head. “And yes, he can be quite the ass, but he pays you really well.”
“Whose side are you on, Georgia?”
“Yours, of course.” She laughs, walking over to her suitcase. “By the way, since I finished my shopping early, I brought along your gift. You’re going to be very proud of me, because I was super thoughtful and creative this year.”
I know better than to believe her. She says that every year and the gift is always the same: a “rescued” sweater (different color) that she knitted herself and a “Be grateful I got you anything at all” card.
She tosses me the box and I place it on the counter.
“You know what?” I say. “Screw takeout. Let’s go run up a huge tab at a five-star restaurant.”
“Yes! And don’t you think we should also get him your Secret Santa gift?”
“Would you get your boss a gift if he made you work on your off days?”
“Point taken.”