Chapter Six
“I don’t know if we’re meant to be single for our whole lives, but with the way dating was shaping up, it sure feels that way.” - Molly
ELIZABETH
Marching through the halls of our office at work, I have one destination in mind, and one destination only: coffee.
I was up with Aurora all night. I tried to call in sick today only to get a lecture on how I was the one who begged for the marketing campaign we were supposed to present today and I either needed to be here or find another job.
Don’t you just love how employers treat their staff these days?
Aurora woke up in the middle of the night from a night terror, something that doesn’t happen all that often but that happens nonetheless.
And of course, once she calmed down from that and went back to sleep, my brain cataloged every single thing that I could have done wrong in her life to make that happen.
Thank God for my parents, who were happy to take her today. We only have three sick days left off of preschool, but I was willing to take the risk to let her have the day off.
Stepping into the break room, I head for the graciously filled coffee pot and fill my mug I keep stashed in my desk. A lot of people use the mugs that are here in the kitchen, but I can’t help but think of all the mouths that have touched them before mine.
Taking a moment before my presentation, I breathe in the aroma of coffee and the blissful seconds of quiet before marching back out of the break room and to my little desk.
It’s not much—a corner cubicle that is decorated with a potted plant and a couple of pictures of Rora to look at when I’m sad I’m stuck here and she’s at school or my mom’s.
I sigh and pull up the marketing materials that I put together. We’re supposed to be helping a florist shop in town with its advertising but every option I’ve pulled, either Mr. Hansen has waved off, or Trip has pivoted away from.
Why he was able to veto my ideas was beyond me.
I need another job.
My watch beeps, and I take a look, noting that I need to go get set up in the conference room for my pitch with the client, and head that way.
“Yeah, I don’t know if this is the route to go,” Trip says, interrupting me mid-sentence.
I keep my professional smile on my face so Adam, our client and the florist who hired us, won’t see my irritation.
“Do we really want to just have some boring old commercials for a florist shop? Or should we go bold?”
“I like the idea of bold,” Mr. Hansen agrees, nodding his head and pointing at Trip like he’s some sort of genius. “Sets you apart from the competition.”
“Unfortunately, there’s only so much you can do to set yourself apart when you’re a florist.” Adam’s monotone voice is not lost on me, and I nod, picking up his mood.
“Very true. And I think your gorgeous wedding arrangements should be the focus of this particular campaign. We can always do another one to showcase other things, but to get the word of your shop out there, I think we start here.” I click the button, moving the slideshow to some of his beautiful flower arrangements.
He really does have a gift. “You did the centerpieces for the mayor’s wedding last fall, and with a recommendation from him, you could easily get business with that name attached.
The real trick is getting people to see it. ”
Adam nods, an accepting smile on his face, but Mr. Hansen interrupts.
“Is that what you want? Or do you want to be the top florist in the city?”
I feel myself losing control, and my shoulders drop. What is he doing? Did he really hate me so much that he’s willing to lose a client over it?
“I would like that, sir. Someday. But I don’t think doing flower arrangements for nightclubs is going to be the route I take.” Adam says this much more diplomatically than I would have. But then again, my patience is at zero.
We move on, making plans for setting up a commercial for the flowers. I know a guy who does great cinematic work and makes the commercial look less, well, commercial. After promising to get everything in order and going for Adam, he and Mr. Hansen depart, and I start to take down my presentation.
I feel Trip’s presence behind me, and I turn, giving him a polite smile. It’s really not fair that he’s so good-looking. I was sure his jawline alone could cut me, and his muscles were barely maintained under his shirt.
“That was great work, Beth,” he says, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. I half expect the shirt to rip from the way the shirt strains, and I wonder if he buys his shirts a little smaller on purpose.
“Thank you,” I say politely, resuming my task and ignoring the creeping irritation around my neck at being called Beth. It’s not worth making a scene.
“You’ve really got a knack for this job, seeing what the customer wants and delivering it.”
I let my eyebrows draw together, giving him a quizzical look. “Really? I didn’t think you thought so.”
“Of course I do.” His voice deepens at the end of the sentence, and I know exactly what’s coming. Him asking me out.
He’s done it before, and I’ve always refused. It’s been years since I dated anyone, the last guy being Rora’s dad, but my focus has been solely on her and raising her the best I can.
Hattie’s words come to me then as Trip opens his mouth: just use him for some fun.
I think back to the other night when I felt like I basically threw myself at Derek and he was so not interested. It sucks, but it is what it is. I had thought at the wedding there was some sort of vibe there, but I guess I’m just awful at reading those cues anymore.
“We should really go out sometime, we could have some fun.” His innuendo is not lost on me, and frankly, I don’t think I could actually sustain dating him long-term.
But a night out, with dinner and drinks and maybe something else, sounds kind of nice.
“You know what?” Trip’s eyebrows perk up, and he looks so hopeful that I’m about to finally give in that I almost don’t.
But I hear myself say, “I’d love to.”
He stands up from where he was leaning against the table and smiles. His smile is perfectly straight and brilliantly white. There was no freaking way this guy isn’t a playboy. But that’s okay, because I just want to play.
Nothing serious, nothing concrete, just some fun.
“Really? Great. How’s this weekend?”
“Let me check my schedule, and I’ll text you. Sound good?” I ask, grabbing my laptop and nodding to the door. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“Yeah, me too. Let me know, okay?”
I nod and smile at him. Maybe he’s not the exact guy I want to go out with, but it is something, and I am proud of myself for at least making a plan to make a plan.
Progress.