Chapter 11
ELEVEN
I’m in the cafeteria again, having lunch with Josh. I almost buy soup, then remember the lanyard incident and grab a prepackaged salad instead. I secretly hope people notice. It looks so healthy.
I spear a piece of lettuce with my fork and take a bite.
I look like someone who does yoga while eating this salad. I look like I wake up at five thirty every morning to go for a run before work. I look like I have a fourteen-step skincare routine and use a jade roller.
I touch my cheek.
Does my skin feel smoother already? Am I experiencing the benefits of healthy living in real time?
“Do I have something on my face?”
“Hm?” I glance over at Josh.
“You were staring at me and touching your cheek.” He points at his own face. “Do I have something on mine?”
“Oh.” I drop my hand. “No.”
I reach for my energy drink and take a sip of sugary goodness.
Josh makes a face. “Those are actually really bad for you.”
“Really? I had no idea,” I say, and take a deep gulp.
Down the hatch, bitches.
Before Josh can lecture me about artificial sweeteners or whatever, one of the architects, Megan, drops into the empty seat across from us. “How are the lovebirds?”
“Oh, we’re n—”
“We’re great,” Josh says, putting an arm around the back of my chair.
Oh. Okay.
Megan smiles and begins unpacking her lunch. She’s brought a homemade salad and a bottle of kombucha.
Performative hoe bag.
“You really are so cute together,” she says, unscrewing the cap on her nasty drink. “Have you made it official yet? Like, with HR and stuff?”
My brain stalls.
Literally, what is going on? We’ve dated for, like, a second. We are not getting married.
“Not yet,” Josh says easily, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger.
Yet?
Megan changes the subject and starts talking about a documentary she watched the other night. I nod and make interested noises while tuning her out.
Yet. The word keeps bouncing around inside my skull.
Does Josh think we’re official? Are we? Aren’t you supposed to talk about that first? We’ve been on three dates and had sex exactly once. How does Megan even know? Josh must have said something.
Is he going around telling people I’m his girlfriend?
“—and honestly, I think the virus is some kind of hoax,” Josh says. “It’s just too weird.”
The word virus yanks me back into the conversation.
“Sorry,” I say. “What?”
Josh shrugs. “I was just saying I’m not sure I buy it. A sex virus? Really?”
“It’s called RHV.”
He gives me a look. “Yeah, well, it’s still a sex virus, fancy name or not. And it just feels made up.” He spreads his hands. “I mean, it’s supposedly everywhere, but I’ve never met anyone who has it. That’s a little suspicious, don’t you think?”
A knot forms in my stomach.
“I know someone who’s infected,” I hear myself say.
Megan leans forward, resting her arms on the table. “Really?”
“Yup.”
“Did they know their match?”
“Yeah, they work together. It’s very awkward,” I say, then quickly add, “apparently. From what she’s told me.”
Josh raises his eyebrows. “Damn. What a shitty situation.”
You have no idea.
I pull out my phone and check the time. “Wow, would you look at that. I have to go.” I turn to Josh.
“Do you want to walk me back to my desk?” It’s such a weird request, but I need to talk to him, and it’s the only thing I can come up with in two seconds.
“Sorry, Megan. You know how Mr. Bennett can be.”
She waves a hand. “I get it, don’t worry. I can find someone else to bother.”
The second we’re in the elevator, I turn to Josh.
“Did you tell people about us?”
His face changes. “Was I not supposed to?”
He looks like a kicked puppy, and it immediately makes me feel like a dick.
“I just mentioned that we were going out,” he says. “That’s all. I can stop if that’s what you want.”
I close my eyes for a second. “No, it’s—” I shake my head. “I was just caught off guard, okay?”
He takes my hand and pulls me closer. I let him. “So it’s okay if I talk about us?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
The hesitation gives me away.
Josh’s smile falters.
“I mean, of course,” I say quickly.
I lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. That earns me a smile just as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
I have never been so relieved to see the executive floor in my life.
Fresh air fills my lungs as I step out into the crisp autumn morning.
I nailed that.
Atlas Development had asked to meet me over breakfast, and I’d jumped at the idea. Their offices were gorgeous. Huge windows, lots of greenery, exposed brick walls.
I met with their CEO, Melanie Dyer, a smiley woman in her mid-forties who made me feel at ease within seconds. She was witty, down-to-earth, and easy to talk to. She showed me around, introduced me to a few people, and told me about the company.
Atlas is smaller than BenCo, but still substantial. They specialize in housing projects for lower-income communities, and everyone there seemed genuinely proud of the work they were doing. There was a whole backstory that I don’t remember a word of, but it moved me when Melanie told it.
We sat down in their cafeteria, ate bagels, and talked about me and my background. No college degree, but plenty of work experience. Waitress, receptionist, office coordinator, and most recently, executive assistant.
She asked why I thought I’d be qualified to work as a PR Manager.
I told her about the press briefings and interviews I’d done for BenCo, and how, before that, I’d often been part of conversations about press strategy.
She nodded along as I spoke and asked a few follow-up questions, but nothing that felt like a trap.
We talked about my ambitions, where I saw myself in ten years, and what I hoped to accomplish if I joined Atlas. The conversation flowed easily. It felt less like an interview and more like talking to a friend.
When we were done, Melanie walked me to the entrance.
“It was lovely meeting you, Carly,” she said. “We’ll be in touch.”
Now I’m climbing into the back of an Uber, about to head back to the office before Mr. Bennett starts wondering how long a doctor’s appointment is supposed to take.
I look out the window as the car pulls away, and I smile.
Bye-bye, BenCo.
It’s almost comical.
I’m curled up next to Josh on his couch, half-watching a movie neither of us is paying attention to, thinking about how I’m going to have to tell him about the virus and Mr. Bennett soon, when Josh reaches over and presses the back of his hand to my forehead.
“Are you getting sick?”
I sit up and touch my cheeks. I’m burning up.
Mr. Bennett and I had planned a session for tomorrow morning, but apparently, the fever has decided to arrive early this time.
Fantastic.
I bite my lip, thinking. Should I tell Josh now?
I really, really don’t want to. The conversation about the virus is something we need to sit down for.
Preferably while I’m fully conscious and not actively fighting for my life.
It also feels cruel to drop a bomb like that and then immediately go, Anyway, I need to leave now so my boss can finger me. Bye.
I’ll talk to him tomorrow, after work, I decide.
“I should head home,” I say, pushing myself upright. “Thanks for tonight.”
I lean in to kiss him, but before I can stand, he catches my wrist.
“Are you all right?” he asks. “That felt like a fever.”
“I’m probably just warm from the blanket.” I make another attempt to stand. “I’ll be fine.”
The room tilts violently. My knees buckle, and suddenly, I’m falling. Josh catches me before I hit the coffee table.
“Jesus, Carly.” He helps me back down onto the couch. “You’re staying here tonight. You’re clearly sick.”
I shake my head, which is a terrible idea, because I’m already dizzy. “I need to go.”
“I’m not letting you leave like this. You can barely stand.”
Fuck.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone.
“You’re not ordering a car,” he says, making a grab for it.
I press the phone to my chest, holding it out of his reach. “I’m not. I’m sending a text.”
“Who are you texting?”
I start typing.
fever just hit
The response comes almost instantly.
Send me your address
“Carly?”
I look up at Josh. He looks so concerned. So genuinely worried. I hate that I’m about to say something that will hurt him.
“I have the virus.”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“I have RHV,” I say, forcing the words out. “The virus that’s going around. And I need to leave right now.”
His expression goes blank.
“This is not how I wanted to tell you,” I continue, standing on wobbly legs. “I wish we had time to sit down so I could explain it properly, but we don’t. If I don’t leave soon, I might die.”
My phone starts buzzing with a call. Josh’s gaze drops to the screen.
“Is that him?”
I nod and press the phone to my ear.
“Where are you?” Mr. Bennett’s voice comes through the phone. I hear the distant sound of a car door closing.
“I’m at Josh’s apartment.”
A pause.
“Send me the address.”
The line goes dead.
Josh’s face changes. “Who is it?”
“Josh, you need to understand that I didn’t choose this. It just happened to me, okay? Please don’t freak out right now.”
I text Mr. Bennett the address and tell him to call when he’s outside, then make my way over to Josh’s breakfast bar. I sit down on one of the stools and put my head in my hands.
“Could you get me a glass of water?” I mumble.
A few seconds later, a glass is placed next to my arm. I sit up and gulp half of it down.
Josh looks at me almost pleadingly. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just a lot to take in.” He drags a hand over his face. “It feels like we’re sitting here waiting for someone to pick you up so you can cheat on me.”
I turn to him. “It’s a medical treatment. It’s not like that.” Then, because apparently the fever brings out the worst in me, I add, “And technically, it wouldn’t be cheating. We haven’t said we’re exclusive.”
There it is again.
Kicked puppy.
“Do you want to see other people?” he asks.
“That’s not what I’m saying.” I sigh. “Things have just happened very fast, and I can’t keep up. I’m not saying I don’t want to be exclusive. I’m saying you need to make me part of that conversation instead of just deciding it for both of us.”
His mouth tightens.
“I like you, Josh,” I say, softer now. “I really do. But we need to slow down a little.”
I’m officially out of breath.
“So are we exclusive, or…?”
I stare at him.
I feel faint. Also like I might throw up. Jesus Christ, the fever is progressing quickly now.
“Can we have that conversation when I’m not, like, dying?”
Josh opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a loud knocking.
No.
You have got to be kidding me.
Josh rushes to the entry and opens the door. And there, clad in jeans and wet from the rain, stands Mr. Bennett.
Josh gapes at him. “Bennett?”
Mr. Bennett ignores him and steps inside. “Where’s Carly?”
“It’s Bennett?” Josh looks at me, accusation cutting through the shock. “Your fucking boss?”
“I’m your boss, too,” Mr. Bennett says without looking at him. Then he crosses the room to where I’m sitting and puts a hand on my back. His touch is firm. Grounding. “How are we feeling?”
I look up at him and give him a weak smile. “Remember the first time? Kind of like that.”
“How could I forget?” He helps me out of the chair. “Let’s go. I’d prefer not to have you faint on me again.”
“I’ll do it,” Josh says. Before I can react, he steps forward and slides an arm around my waist, pulling me away from Mr. Bennett. “Where’s your car?”
Are you going to piss on my leg, too?
Mr. Bennett’s mouth twitches.
And that’s when I realize I said it out loud.