Chapter 33
MOLLY
Monday morning rolls around much quicker than I would like it to, and I head into work half excited to see Joshua again and half dreading it.
I’m not dreading it because I don’t want to see him, I’m dreading it because it’s becoming harder and harder to resist him and each time I give in, it makes me saying that it’s a mistake and it can’t happen again seem like a mantra rather than a truth.
Yesterday morning, I woke up in Joshua’s bed and I expected it to be awkward and I expected him to quiz me once again on why it’s a mistake and why we can’t just give in to this thing that we both clearly want.
But it wasn’t like that. Instead, Joshua cooked bacon and we had bacon sandwiches and then he gave me a ride home.
It wasn’t awkward at all, just full of our natural banter and chat, and not once did he mention doing this again or ask me why it was a mistake.
I have to admit that threw me a little bit, and even though I can’t be with Joshua, I’ll admit it stung a bit to think he has given up on me.
I park my car in the office parking lot and get out. I head to the building and cross the lobby in a stream of bodies. I ride in a crowded elevator that has mostly emptied by my floor, and I head to the kitchen to make a coffee. I take my coffee to my desk and sit down and get ready to start work.
I’m not oblivious to the fact that I’ve barely had time to put my purse down before the whispers start.
As the morning begins, the office hums with the kind of excitable energy that has nothing to do with work.
It’s the kind of crackling, gossipy undercurrent that makes people lean into each other at their desks, their gleeful eyes darting up as I pass by.
It’s not unlike the last frenzied moment of a hunt when the hunters have the fox in their sights and their vulture-like natures emerge.
I know the signs. I’ve seen them enough times before when someone else has fallen victim to the office rumor mill.
Only this time, I know exactly who they’re whispering about.
Me. The only thing I don’t know is why. Have I made another mistake, one so catastrophic everyone knows about it and are taking bets on what time I will get fired?
I keep my head high as I move toward my desk, ignoring the hushed voices, the sideways glances.
I won’t give them the satisfaction of slinking along, and I certainly won’t give them the satisfaction of asking what they’re talking about.
But inside, my stomach twists. It has to be something bad.
Anything good isn’t juicy enough to cause this kind of excitement.
I debate skipping my morning coffee break because I don’t particularly want to go into the break room, but at the same time, if I don’t go in, it will look like I’m hiding away, and although I would be, I don’t want people to know that. And so, I brace myself and head for my break.
I’m pleased to see the only other people in there are a table with four interns gathered around it. They probably don’t even know who I am, let alone what I’m meant to have done.
Feeling slightly better, I make a cup of coffee and sit down at one of the other tables.
I’m scrolling through my cell phone when I become aware that the interns have fallen silent.
I look up and see them all nodding their heads to one girl.
She shakes hers a couple of times, and then she sighs and gets up. She comes over to me.
“Is it true you’re dating Mr Redfern?” she asks. Her voice is dripping with curiosity, and her eyes are wide, expectant, like she’s either going to get the gossip of a lifetime or be fired.
I blink, caught off guard by her question.
“What? No, of course not,” I say. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Well, you went to the christening with him. Someone said you were his date.”
I force out a short laugh.
“I wasn’t his date. We just … I’m his secretary. I was invited as a friend.”
The intern’s eyes gleam with something that tells me my denial has done nothing to stop the speculation.
If anything, I’ve just thrown gasoline on the fire.
And I know if I try to deny things further, it will only make it worse, so I clam up and turn my attention back to my cell phone until the intern leaves my side and goes back to her table.
What the fuck? How do people know I was at the christening?
The only thing I can think of, short of Joshua telling someone, which doesn’t seem likely, is that his father mentioned it to someone who mentioned it to someone else and someone else.
That would explain why everyone thinks we’re dating.
Aside from the fact it makes a better rumor.
If Joshua’s father has mentioned it, he actually thinks we’re dating, so he will have said that not thinking he’s doing anything wrong.
This is worse than I imagined it was going to be.
I kind of wish I had made some massive mistake now instead of this.
I don’t want to hide because it will make me look guilty, but I certainly don’t want to face anyone who knows me well enough to quiz me.
If the intern I’ve never met dares ask me questions like she did, I dread to think what Patty or someone like that would ask me.
I finish the rest of my drink in one long swallow and then I quickly wash and dry my cup and put it away, before hurrying out of the break room and going to sit at my desk. I sit down, feeling like I’ve achieved something getting back here unscathed and unquestioned.
I exhale slowly. This is bad. This is really bad.
I suppose I could work it to my advantage though.
This is after all the excuse I’ve been making for why we can’t see each other when Joshua has pushed me for a reason.
This is exactly what I said I was afraid of, that this thing - whatever it is - with Joshua is supposed to stay between us and it would never work that way.
I find myself wishing he was here for more reasons than him being eye candy.
If he was here, the whispering wouldn’t stop, but it would be a lot more subtle, and I could pretend like it wasn’t happening a whole lot easier.
Also, I think he would put it into perspective for me.
I’m kind of spiralling, and he would be the voice of reason.
But he’s out with a client and he said he didn’t expect to be back until after lunch.
The morning drags on, and every time I have to leave my desk, the rooms around me are filled with barely concealed smirks and too loud whispers. By the time my lunch break rolls around, I’m exhausted from pretending not to notice that I’m the center of the gossip.
At least my lunch break is long enough for me to go out to eat.
I don’t usually bother leaving the office – I just eat in the break room – but today, I will definitely be leaving the building.
I step out into the fresh air, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the whispers that follow me around the office like echoes.
I grab a sandwich and a soda, and I eat and drink while window shopping for nothing in particular.
But the reprieve doesn’t last long. My lunch break flies by, and I have to return to the office.
I realize that I have to be even more careful with things like breaks and arriving to work on a morning now, because if I’m so much as a minute late while these rumors are circulating, the next thing will be how I’m getting special treatment because I’m fucking the boss.
I return to the office and ride up in the elevator to the seventh floor.
I avoid catching the eye of the receptionist who sits at a large desk outside of the elevator, but I’m sure she’s in on the joke that my life has become.
I manage to get past the other workstations, and I’m almost home and clear and at my desk.
My heart sinks when I see that my desk, my sanctuary from all this madness has been infiltrated.
And not by just anyone. No, the person waiting for me at my desk is Sarah, the secretary who already hates me because she wants my job.
She also has a thing for Joshua so I’m sure this rumor is going down well with her.
Like she didn’t already hate me enough. Oh well, it’s not like I’m exactly her number one fan either.
Her arms are crossed, and as I get closer to her, I can see the self-satisfied look on her face.
I’ll be honest – that look throws me off.
I expected her to be upset or angry, but why does she look so happy?
Maybe it was her that found out about the christening and spread the rumor and that’s why she’s so pleased with herself.
Whatever it is, I won’t give her the satisfaction of acting like I’m bothered by any of this.
“Hi Sarah,” I say with a fake smile when I’m close enough to speak without yelling. “What can I do for you?”
“Molly,” she says, her voice all false sweetness and her face twisted into a smile that’s every bit as fake as mine was. “Can I have a word?”