Chapter 9 #2
Mr. Winthrop’s response holds something akin to excitement. “We will.”
“Incredible.” Brandon lets out an easy laugh. “Please, take photos so Kate and I can live vicariously through you both.”
To my utter amazement, Mr. Winthrop chuckles. “We will. We can show them to you when we meet for dinner to discuss our donation.”
“Sounds great, Mr. Winthrop. You and Charlotte enjoy your trip.”
Mr. Winthrop thanks him and ends the call.
I gape.
Brandon shrugs, a slight blush heating his cheeks. He sets the receiver back onto the phone mount. I don’t know if I’m more in awe or annoyed. I decide on the latter.
Crossing my arms across my black long-sleeved top, I level him with a glare.
“I had that.”
“Sure you did,” he says, expression neutral.
I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Since when did you become an expert on Fiji?”
He flips his phone screen toward me, and I glimpse a list of Fijian tourist attractions.
“Work smarter, not harder, Kate.”
“You didn’t have to jump in! I didn’t need you. I don’t need you.”
Brandon’s gaze takes on an edge. “What’s the big deal? Did you want to carry on that lovely chat with him? We got them to agree to dinner. Sales shouldn’t be closed over the phone, Kate. They’re better closed in person.”
“Sales?” Recollection dawns on me then that he used to manage galleries. “You’re not managing a gallery anymore, Brandon. Museums don’t work like this.”
“Money is money, whether an art piece is exchanged or not.” He puffs out his chest, and I want to three-hole-punch him.
I snatch up my purse. “I’m going to lunch.”
Brandon follows me out into the hallway. “Good! I’m sick of you being hangry.”
I ignore him as I stalk away.
Insufferable.
brANDON
“What a pain,” I mutter at Kate’s retreating form, although my eyes linger a millisecond too long on how her hips sway in that black skirt. I bite back a groan.
How can a girl so hot be so irritating?
I rub the faint shadow of the bruise she gifted my jaw in the ring a few days ago. I curse myself for the millionth time for whatever little game that was. Did I really think that a few boxing lessons with me might be enough to change Kate’s mind about us? Am I really that stupid? Apparently.
No, what’s more likely to ensue are a few sweaty, torture-filled days that end up proving I’m every bit as pathetic at love as my mom. I curse again, ducking back into the tiny office Kendra assigned us. With my huge frame, I’m like a kid in a cardboard box.
Six months ago, I knew I wanted to ditch the gallery management life and apply to the Chicago Legacy Art Museum.
Their latest exhibitions were garnering stellar publicity, and my job had grown stagnant.
Sure, Val Russo’s curation assistant position wasn’t exactly the prestige I’d been aiming for, but I had planned on working my way up.
What I did not know was that my college ex-girlfriend already worked here.
During my first day, I had been stuck in the HR office filling out paperwork for most of the morning. But then I heard her voice drifting down the hall.
I thought it was a hallucination, no lie. Like my biggest regret decided to manifest a phantom voice meant to torment me. A flash of dark hair and stubborn strides passing the open doorway was enough to defibrillate my heart back to life.
She was here. How was she here?
Memory after memory seeped back into my consciousness, ones I still try desperately to forget to this day.
Her fierce loyalty to the people she loved.
Her sharp wit and humor. The way she so boldly forged her own path through life, even though it cost her dearly.
Her passion. And above all, the way she always made me feel so valued.
I bided my time, knowing we’d run into each other eventually. I’ll never forget her expression when she blazed into the break room to talk to her friend but found me talking to her instead.
Her icy demeanor was a slap to the face and a much-needed reminder of reality.
Our two-month whirlwind romance was in the past, and she was clearly not interested in any form of reconciliation.
I settle deeper into the office chair as Kate’s lineup of ridiculous office supplies catches my eye. I almost chuckle. For someone so bratty, Kate has a quirky side that she rarely lets anyone see.
The evidence of her conference room theft sits in the corner. How many times did she check me out from it when she thought I wasn’t looking? Five? Six? My chest pounds harder for a second before I tell it to knock it off.
Sure, Kate Chen is still attracted to me, but she seems to hate it.
I mean, she claims it’s me she hates, but an idiotic part of myself keeps holding out until she loses that argument with herself.
Why? I’m honestly still not sure.
Yeah, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, but it’s not like she’s a saint. I know I messed things up between us six years ago, but it wasn’t all my fault. She hurt me too, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it—or her.
Pathetic. I swallow and take a deep breath. Pulling up my calendar, I make a note to call Mr. Winthrop in three weeks.
A long exhale deflates my chest. It probably looked like a jerk move to take over Kate’s phone call. But really, I only stepped in because I couldn’t take Mr. Winthrop’s disgusted tone and one word answers to Kate.
As much as I enjoy the world of art and the interesting people I get to meet, I’ve met too many men like Mr. Winthrop.
They ooze patriarchal favoritism, and it pisses me off.
Just because Kate is a woman doesn’t mean she’s not great at her job.
In fact, she’s better than me in most areas. But sales? Sales are my expertise.
I check the time, just now noticing the echo of hunger in my stomach. I shoot a text to Val.
brANDON: Hey. Burger Grillz on Fourth Street?
VAL: Sorry, man. Just got here. Had a thing at Anthony’s school.
brANDON: No biggie.
I set my phone down, repositioning my cuffed sleeves across my forearms as I eye the grant application on my screen. I’d really like to send it off by the end of the day. Maybe I’ll just drop by the museum cafeteria on the first floor and grab something quick instead of going to Burger Grillz.
I stride into the hallway and see Amantha heading toward me on her way to the copy room.
Wordlessly, we lift our hands and high five as we pass.
It’s dumb, but the first month I started here, Amantha awkward-ed out in the hallway and high-fived me instead of waving, or whatever she was trying to do with her hand. So now, it’s tradition.
But before Amantha disappears into the copy room, she calls over her shoulder, voice teasing.
“Hey, how’s your jaw?”
“Never better,” I laugh, rubbing the fading bruise from Kate’s punch.
“I bet.” Amantha winks.
I’m still chuckling as I make my way down the ramp of The Spiral.
I pass a gaggle of three kids with an exhausted-looking mother.
Their eyes are alight with wonder as they giggle at the prismatic circles of light refracted from the skylight above.
A little girl with silky blonde curls and flushed cheeks tries to catch one, making her brothers laugh.
Once I get the mom’s permission, I pull a roll of “I Heart Art” stickers from my pocket and give one to each child.
The oldest boy immediately pokes it onto his brother’s forehead, and a fight breaks out.
The mom flails as she tries to separate the two, threatening them within an inch of their video games at home.
She offers an apology, which I wave away.
“You guys have fun,” I say.
“Thanks, mister,” the little girl squeaks up at me before the mother guides her and the bickering brothers away. I chuckle to myself, feeling energized as I stroll the rest of the way to the cafeteria.
Ten minutes later, I scroll my social media as I tuck into my burger and fries. It’s not nearly as good as Burger Grillz, but it’s fine.
Rick, the gray-haired facilities manager, ambles into the seating area holding a wrapped sandwich, and I wave him over.
Rick’s prickled face splits into a grin. He scoots onto the bench across from me in his blue industrial jumpsuit. His eyes twinkle as he takes in my massive burger.
“I remember the days when I could eat like that and still fit in my jumpsuit.” He pats the slight curve of his stomach with an age-freckled hand.
I laugh, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “Don’t believe it for a second, Rick. I’ve seen your wife, and she’s a looker. She’s lucky to have a handsome guy like you.”
Rick chortles, “Flip that saying right-side-up, and I’ll agree with you.”
I grin. Rick has the weirdest way of explaining his wisdom. Val and I once paid Rick a visit for one of his geriatric poker nights, and I swear I left feeling more enlightened than I’ve ever been.
Just then, Kate clicks her heels across the lobby a few feet from the cafeteria. She catches sight of Rick, breaking into a smile and giving him a cute little wave. Then her eyes swing to me, and her smile drops. With a haughty flick of her glossy hair, Kate flounces away and out of sight.
Rick lets out a low whistle and turns back to me. “What you done now, boy?”
I shrug. “Nothing new.”
Rick taps a long finger against the table. “Did I ever tell you about the time I worked on a farm up north?”
I take a bite, shaking my head and settling in for a good story.
“My family raised horses. Well, we got one brought to us. Meanest thing ever, that filly.” Rick’s white hair wafts as he shakes his head. “Been treated badly, you see.”
I quirk a brow but stay silent.
“She kicked and bullied nearly everyone till she learned to trust us. We got bruised up bad.” Rick laughs, and I absentmindedly rub a hand across my jaw.
“But underneath all that hurt was a sweet horse, loyal to us ‘til her dying day.” Rick finishes off his sandwich and stands, clapping me on the shoulder. “Hurt people hurt people. But healed people? Well, they heal people. Now that’s work worth doin’. ”
I mull over Rick’s story the entire way back to my dinky new office.
I pull up short. Kate’s black heels gleam on the desk as she relaxes in my comfortable office chair. My gaze cuts to the conference room chair in the corner, but it’s gone. The rusty tetanus one is back, the container of antibacterial wipes perched perfectly atop it.
I narrow my eyes at Kate, whose lips widen.
“Welcome back, partner.”