16. Caleb
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Caleb
Marnie’s office was empty when I arrived, which was unusual. Did she forget our meeting this morning?
Last night she told me she would see me today, so she couldn’t have forgotten.
Maybe she is somewhere else in the building. When I signed in at the front desk and said I was here to see Marnie, Jordan didn’t mention anything, and Josie didn’t indicate Marnie’s absence when I stopped by her office a few minutes ago.
I adjust in my seat to get a better view of the clock. 9:38 a.m.
I’ve been looking forward to seeing her since she left Linny’s house last night, but with each minute that passes, my hands start to fidget. I pull out my phone, checking for any messages or emails.
Nothing.
What if she never made it home from game night?
Panic starts to rise, and I force myself to swallow it down. There must be a perfectly good explanation for why she isn’t here yet.
The ice is starting to melt in the drink that I carefully set on her desk, making sure to have today’s tip jar answers facing her chair. The condensation begins to drip onto the wood, so I stand and swipe a coaster from the corner of her desk and place it underneath the cup.
Art started serving iced pumpkin spice lattes today now that the weather is warming up and wanted Marnie to be the first to try it.
As soon as I sit back down, Marnie strides into the room right past me towards her chair. “Hey.” She greets, setting down her bag and taking her seat across from me. “Sorry I’m late. I was on a call that ran over this morning.” Her tone is clipped, short.
“No problem. I know you’re busy.”
“Thank you for the coffee.” She lifts the cup off the coaster and brings it to her mouth.
“Wait,” I call out and she freezes, the cup centimeters from her lips. “You didn’t answer today’s question. You know the rules.”
Giving me an unamused look, she rotates the cup in her hand, eyes scanning the answers I wrote on the side. “What’s today’s question?”
“Who is the superior Pennywise?”
“Tim Curry,” she answers bluntly, taking a sip and placing the cup back down.
I’m taken aback by her emotionless response. It’s a complete 180 from last night.
“That’s it? No haughty elaboration?”
A small shrug is all she gives me. “I liked his performance better, though it’s a bit unfair to compare those given the time they were filmed.”
I stare at her for a beat, trying to figure out why she sounds off this morning. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
There’s something removed about her tone. About the way she can’t quite meet my eye. It’s almost cold.
“You seem . . . you’re acting weird.”
“No, I’m not,” she says defensively.
I tread lightly, not wanting her to shut down completely. “Did I make you uncomfortable last night?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” I push, my voice starting to rise.
“We got a little carried away last night. I almost crossed the professional boundary that we put in place, and I wanted to apologize. It won’t happen again.”
I narrow my eyes, none of this making sense. “I don’t believe you.”
“What’s not to believe?”
I place my hands on her desk, closing some of the distance between us. “Please don’t shut me out. Talk to me,” I plead. “We were having a great time last night. What changed?”
“Fine,” she lets out an exasperated sigh. “We almost kissed.”
“Yes, we almost kissed,” I echo. “But nothing happened. No harm, no foul.” The words taste wrong as they leave my mouth.
“Still, I think it’s for the best if we stick to seeing each other for work, and not in a personal setting. That way there’s no room for misinterpretation.”
Misinterpretation? That’s what she’s calling it? She’s a magnetic pull I can’t get away from, as strong as the tide itself. Hearing her discount that stings.
I raise my wrist and check my watch, desperate for anything to do but listen to her dismiss last night. “Fine,” I keep my voice even. “I should probably get going. I have a delivery to sign for. Can’t have things falling behind schedule.”
She looks like she wants to say something as I stand up, but no words come out. I pause, hands still resting on her desk, giving her the chance to speak up.
Still, nothing.
I lower my head, unable to meet her eye. “I’ll email you those design sketches to approve before I start ordering equipment.”
She stays silent as I push my chair in and leave her office.
I wish I had a real delivery to sign for.
The drive home alone with my thoughts is deafening.
I have no idea what changed overnight to make her shut down like that.
I should’ve known something was up with her from the moment she refused to elaborate on her answer to the tip jar question, but to be honest, that entire conversation gave me whiplash.
I don’t want to push her, but if it’s space she wants, that’s what she will get. I’ve got plenty of things to do to keep myself busy over the coming weeks. I just hope it’s enough to keep me from imagining what could’ve happened if we had kissed last night.