Chapter 8
LAURA
I smile at the little bunch of wildflowers. I’ve put them in a mason jar I found in the kitchenette, and with the window opened while Troy is out of office, I almost feel like my desk is cozy.
Just my luck that when I finally decided I was ready to be bold at work and confront Troy about that kiss, he had to travel for a meeting.
He’s supposed to be back today, but there’s no sign of him.
His aquarium office is empty and dark, with the door locked.
Julian is gone, too. Probably joining Troy wherever he’s going, doing important Business Stuff that I’m too sparkly and uneducated to understand.
Honestly, I preferred it that way. Being the “dumb” assistant sent on errands away from the office while Julian was Troy’s go-to for everything else.
But this is turning out to be pretty damn inconvenient, considering my plans to ambush my boss and demand to know what the hell that kiss was about… and whether I could have another.
I grimace.
No. I’m not going to beg to have another kiss. That would be insane. And degrading.
But I do want to know whether he liked it as much as I did. And whether, after I quit this job, if there’s a chance that maybe, just maybe, we could have something more.
My computer chimes and I glance down, reading the email that’s just arrived in my inbox. It’s a confirmation of my interview date – they want to talk tomorrow.
I close my eyes and exhale, grateful for the one thing in my life that seems like it might be going right for once.
My phone buzzes. A text message from my mom. I was sad this morning, when none of my family sent me the customary Happy Birthday text message. But this must be it.
I open the message.
Your sister is engaged. Party tonight. Bring a date.
Mom
I stare at the message. Surely this is some kind of hallucination. Engaged? Seriously?
And I’m being invited to the engagement party the day before…does that mean this party was planned on short notice?
Or…does it mean that they forgot to invite me to the party? Just like they forgot my birthday?
I stare at the little text bubble like an insult, wondering what the heck I’m supposed to say back. Whether I should ask the dozens of questions that are flooding my mind right now. Whether I should say anything at all.
My therapist’s sage wisdom comes to mind. Five deep breaths before reacting to intense emotions. One, two, three, four…five.
I open my eyes, looking at the text message again as though maybe it would have changed since taking these transformative deep breaths.
Unfortunately not.
The words glare at me like some kind of sick joke.
It's my thirtieth birthday. Some would say that's kind of a big deal. Not as big of a deal as your older daughter, the accomplished one, getting engaged to be married, but still a big deal.
I glance at the time.
It's now noon, and the only person who's actually acknowledged my birthday is Burt from downstairs.
“Stop throwing yourself a pity party, Laura.” I mutter, rubbing my eyes and returning my cell phone to my desk drawer. “Grown women don't have birthday parties anyways.”
Behind me, the elevator doors ding open.
I turn around and see Troy standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.
“Hey,” I say.
It's the first thing I've said to him since our make-out session on Monday.
“Hey,” he replies, tilting his head at me. “Get your things. We're leaving for the day.”