Chapter 7 #2
“I feel so … clumsy,” I tell her. “Let’s set aside the fact that this guy, Oliver, might be my new boss. Let’s just consider him a guy who asked me to have lunch with him only yesterday, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to navigate the dating waters, Lisbeth.”
“Yes, you do. It’s been a long time, I know, but you know how to do it. You weren’t born yesterday.”
“I might as well have been. I only dated one guy before Luca, and I was nineteen. I mean, besides the three blind dates you’ve set me up on this year, that’s it—and those went so well.”
She giggles at the mention of the awful dates she arranged. I roll my eyes.
“I just keep getting thrown into this guy’s life and”—I shrug—“if I take this job, I need it to work. I have to get a grip on my life so I can move on. I can’t work for him and feel myself tingle in all the right places—or wrong places, depending on how you define the word.”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Probably.” I sigh hastily. “You’re probably right. I mean, who am I to think that he even sees me like that?”
She laughs. It’s loud and chirpy. “Oh, he does.”
I look at her like she’s nuts.
“Shaye.” She says my name with exasperation.
“You’re beautiful. You have the prettiest hair in the world.
Your eyes tell stories. Your body is banging, my friend, and you’re funny and smart.
So, yeah, I’m absolutely positive he’s attracted to you.
” She grins. “I was just saying that … who knows? You might get to know him and hate him. The chemistry might fizzle. Maybe he has rules about dating co-workers. You don’t know. ”
Suddenly, she seems less crazy-pants.
My shoulders sag as I let her words of wisdom soak in.
I know I’m jumping the gun with some of this. My mind is definitely ahead of reality. But I want this so bad, I need this so much, and it feels too good to be true. Naturally, my mind wants to sniff out all the ways it could go wrong instead of focusing on the ways it could go right.
“Just relax and do what’s best for you. Today, maybe that’s taking the job,” she says.
A chill rushes through my body. I close my eyes and breathe.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “I don’t know.”
I open my eyes as her sweet smile gets sharper.
“Maybe I’m right,” she repeats. “And tomorrow, maybe it’s taking his dick—”
“Hey!” I protest, but not without a giggle.
She laughs too. “If he’s hot enough to flip your switch and he owns Mason Limited, keep your options open. Be smart.”
I get to my feet and roll my eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, standing too.
“I am being smart. I’m well aware of the fact that my judgment on men is broken. Maybe Oliver Mason is a sociopath or a narcissist. He could be married and a total scumbag.”
“Nope.”
I turn to face her. “Nope what?”
Her face sobers. “Don’t write this job off already. Don’t write him off already. Don’t write you off already. You’re defaulting to your mother’s voice in your head.”
“Yeah …”
“Listen to me, Shaye Marie—your mom is fucked up. God love her, but something went wrong with her parenting gene. You gave that woman so many chances to be in your life and be the person she should be, and she failed you every time.”
“I—”
“I’m not done.” Lisbeth smiles softly at me.
“We subconsciously absorb what we hear our moms say and do. Somehow, because it comes from them, we assume it’s right and true.
But in your case, it’s not. You know that.
” She makes a face until I smile. “You’re leaving all of that nonsense behind, okay?
All of the negativity and blame she placed on you was projection.
She was projecting her shortcomings onto you.
That has nothing to do with you in all reality. Right?”
Her words hit the soft, vulnerable spot in my heart. I want to hope she’s right. I want to think she’s telling me the truth and not doing best-friend duty and telling me what I want, even need, to hear. But I’m not sure.
“Right,” I say, my voice not as confident as I’d hoped it would be.
“Good. Now, I’ll break it down for you. Take the job.
” She brushes her bangs out of her face again.
“You need the money. You have the skills. You obviously vibe with this guy. So take the job and get back on your feet. Give yourself a little room to get to know yourself again.” She reaches out and presses her hand against my arm.
“This is the break you’ve been praying for. ”
For the first time in a long time, a blossom of hope begins to flutter in my belly.
This is the advice I’d give Lisbeth if the roles were reversed. I’d tell her to take the job and I’d mean it.
She dusts her hands off as if she just solved world hunger. “Now that decision has been made, go find your wine bottle opener. We’re going to celebrate your new job.”
I want to backtrack, but I know the conversation with Lisbeth will never end if I argue. I’m also not really sure how I can construct an argument against her.
So, I head toward the drawer for the corkscrew. Might as well give in. And rejoice, because she’s right. This is the break I’ve been praying for.
I hope.