There I was. Over forty. Perpetually single. Making mistakes right and left with a woman I could actually see myself with but who I had managed to completely screw up any chances with. It wasn’t the best evaluation. But it was accurate. That’s who I was, but it’s not who I wanted to be. I just didn’t know how to fix it. Any of it. Especially with Merry. We’d barely fixed it the last time.
I walked away from the mirror and put on boxers. It was still early in the evening, but I wasn’t feeling up to doing much. After an in-depth tour of my kitchen where I came to the conclusion my full cabinets and refrigerator offered me nothing worth eating for the night, I wished I’d thought to swing by the kitchen before leaving the complex and grab something Mom baked. She was in a daily bake-a-thon habit now, and everybody at work was bringing home the spoils. I’d been so thrown off by the encounter with Merry it didn’t even cross my mind.
But even if I had, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to eat it. Nothing sounded good right then. It was like all my pleasure sensors had shut down and now nothing was going to be enjoyable anymore. I probably deserved that. It was some sort of cosmic justice for taking way too much pleasure where I shouldn’t have.
I finally settled on giving up and ordering pizza. I brought it into the living room and lounged in my recliner, the box in my lap and a beer open beside me. After several slices and my second beer, I wasn’t feeling much better, but I also wasn’t feeling worse, which I was going to take as a victory. It wasn’t until I was most of the way through my third gory action movie that I admitted to myself I was checking my phone every few minutes to see if Merry had gotten in touch with me.
She hadn’t, of course. She made it clear as soon as she scurried away and left me alone on that bench, she was determined to not acknowledge what happened and just go back to work. I felt fairly certain she was doing everything she could to try to convince her brain it didn’t happen. Maybe she could get back to her office having replaced the memories with just sitting placidly by the pond by herself. I knew she wasn’t going to reach out to me, so I had to decide how I was going to handle the situation and what I was going to do next. I could let it drop. Just go to work the next day like nothing, keep up with the story spreading around the complex, and try not to think about it anymore.
Or I could try to talk to her. At least let her know I was open to having a conversation if she was. It was possible she just didn’t want to be the one to broach the subject. I thought about this through the end of the movie, then headed to bed. I reached for my phone as I got under the covers and sent off a fast text to her.
Do we need to talk?
I moved to set my phone back down on the nightstand, figuring I probably wouldn’t hear back from her until the next morning. But before my hand even left the phone, it alerted to a return message from her.
No.
That was it. Just a simple “no.” It seemed nothing if not final, and that only made me hate myself even more.
30
Merry
Somehow despite all my promises to myself, all my contemplation about what happened and resolutions in my mind that I was enough of an adult to handle whatever feelings were happening inside me, it had happened again. I had made another mistake. Only this time, it was exponentially worse. Worse because I should have learned from the first time I made it. And worse because of how it happened. Sex outside, in the middle of the day, on work property. Not even in the privacy of an office. Just right out in the open next to the pond where anybody could have stumbled on us at any second. It wasn’t just embarrassing because of what we were doing, but because of what it said about us. About me. What kind of woman had that little control over herself? What kind of woman couldn’t deal with inconvenient attraction the way a normal adult does, but shoving it down and pretending it wasn’t there?
Or maybe that’s not the way a normal adult would handle it at all, because people didn’t end up forming feelings for their bosses and then giving in to them. I didn’t even recognize myself when I got home that night. Quentin probably thought I’d gone right back to work as soon as we were done. I wouldn’t really expect him to think anything less, considering that’s what I told him I was doing before hurrying away. In reality, I went right to the parking lot and I drove home. I called Brandon when I got back to the apartment and told him I would pick him up after work, but he could tell something was wrong and said he would just get a rideshare. I spent the rest of the day curled up on my living room couch, contemplating how I managed to get to this place.
Several times throughout the day, I reached for my phone, thinking about whether or not I should contact Quentin. On the other hand, I had no idea what I would say to him if I did. I didn’t even know what I was thinking or feeling, so how could I possibly express it to him? That was a conversation I didn’t want to face, especially not now. So, when I got a text from him that night asking if we needed to talk, I simply told him no. He didn’t push, didn’t insist. Finally, I felt like we could drop it.
Unfortunately for me and my state of mind, not everybody shared that sentiment. I dug my heels in, more committed than ever to making sure I was doing a good job and being a benefit to the company. Quentin had been extremely clear when he told me there were no rules against fraternization and my job wasn’t at risk, but I’d been in the professional sphere long enough to know just because there wasn’t a rule against something didn’t mean you should just go ahead and do it. I didn’t want to look like I was slacking off or becoming complacent. I didn’t want it to fuel any rumors around the complex that I was a boss’s pet and getting extra perks on the job because of some relationship with him. So, I tucked my head down and dedicated myself to work. I was polite to everyone to a fault, got to work early and left late, worked harder than I ever had. And very purposely avoided working with Quentin alone at any time.
But Minnie wasn’t having any of the pretending. As far as I was concerned, no mention of any relationship between Quentin and I needed to see the light of day ever again. She didn’t agree. Just a week after Quentin and I had sex again, she came to my office to talk. At first, she said it was just to check in. But considering in all the time I’d worked at the company she hadn’t stopped by my office at all and instead had relied on me coming to her, I knew it wasn’t just to make sure we were still building up our Twitter followers. She wanted to check in with me about Quentin and the stories she’d heard.
“Hey, Merry,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” I told her. “Things are going well.”
“With everything?” she asked.
“All the platforms, yes,” I told her. “Visits to all of the accounts are up, and we are seeing a steady increase in all forms of engagement from leaving comments to reposting content.”
“What about other things?” she asked.
I looked at her as if I didn’t know what she was talking about, hoping it may make her uncomfortable enough for her to drop the conversation.
“What other things?” I asked.
The innocent look didn’t work.
“Things other than work. You seemed a little distracted over the last week. And I’ve noticed you haven’t been socializing with anybody like you were before. Especially Quentin. I thought the two of you had planned on having regular meetings to discuss your social media campaign,” she said.
“We did,” I said. “But since things have been going well, we’ve decided email works just as well.”
Minnie nodded politely but I knew she didn’t buy one bit of my story. She was way too shrewd of a woman not to know the real reason things had changed between Quentin and me. Without saying anything or telling me what she was doing, in the coming days she made efforts to help me work around being near Quentin. It felt good to be so appreciated and valued that she did not immediately side with her son and instead did what she could to create harmony in the office. I hoped it wouldn’t last for too long and soon it would just fade into memory so everything
could go back to normal.
That conversation had been nearly a month ago, and things were still tense around the office. It was only made worse by the bug I’d picked up at some point over the last week. Usually I was a very healthy person and managed to skate by the annual cold and flu season without falling victim. I might spend a day sneezing and coughing, but it had been years since the last time I’d felt truly ill for more than twenty-four hours. But this thing was sticking. I didn’t have a fever, but I didn’t have as much energy as usual, and everything I ate made me want to throw up. I tried to think about everybody I’d been in contact with, but no one I knew of was dealing with the stomach flu. I must have picked it up somewhere without realizing it. I made a mental note to start using those disinfecting wipes grocery stores put next to the carts.
I did my best to push through it and not let being under the weather keep me from fulfilling my responsibilities. After a few days of feeling sick, though, I knew it wasn’t just going to go away. Maybe some extra rest would help. Minnie was understanding when I called in sick, and Brandon transformed the living room of our apartment into a sick bay for me. He brought me soup and juice, reminding me regularly it didn’t matter if I felt sick, I had to stay hydrated. Taking a few sips every now and then seemed to help settle my stomach. Except for the orange juice. That definitely made it worse.
He was a fantastic nurse for almost two days before I told him he needed to get out and have some fun. It wasn’t just about me feeling sick or him taking care of me. After all, it wasn’t like he had to do a whole lot. I barely wanted to eat and spent most of my time sleeping and watching TV. Instead, it was about how attached he had become to the apartment and the routine of just going to work and coming back. I didn’t want him to fall into a habit of not doing anything or seeing anyone, so I encouraged him to call up some friends and go out to dinner. My single request was that he not bring back any leftovers. I didn’t want the smell to make me feel any worse than I already did.
It wasn’t long after he left before Olivia showed up at the apartment. She let herself in using the extra key I gave her for emergencies. I groaned when I saw her.
“Did Brandon call you?” I asked.
“Yes, he did,” she said. “Somebody had to. You didn’t even tell me you were sick.”
“That’s because I’m not sick,” I told her. “I’m just not feeling great. I think I’ll probably just worked myself too hard and I’m exhausted.”
“All right. Well, what are your symptoms?” she asked.
“I’m tired. And I feel sick to my stomach. Not like all the time, but it lasts for a while when I do,” I told her.
“Not all the time?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“I only really start to feel like I’m going to throw up after I eat. Sometimes I’m a little woozy, but if I smell food or attempt to eat anything solid, it gets really bad.”
She stared at me, not blinking for a few seconds.
“How long is this been going on?” she asked.
“About a week,” I told her. “That’s why I decided to take some time off. I thought maybe if I got some rest, it would make it feel better.”
“So, let me get this straight. You are tired. Smells bother you. And you feel sick when you eat. But you haven’t had a fever or coughing or sneezing? Anything like that?”
“No,” I told her.
“And you haven’t gone to a doctor?” she asked.
“No. Why would I go to a doctor? I told you, I’m not sick,” I said.
“I think you’re probably right about that. But you still need to go to at least go to the drugstore,” Olivia told me.
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“To get a pregnancy test. That sounds exactly like how my sister felt when she was pregnant with my nephew,” she said matter-of-factly.
Panic started bubbling up inside me as I tried to flip through the calendar, timing my encounters with Quentin. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d missed my period. With all the stress and chaos going on around me, it hadn’t even crossed my mind. And of course, we hadn’t used a condom either time. It wasn’t like I walked around carrying a stash of them. Reality sunk in hard, and I rushed to get dressed. I didn’t care how dizzy or tired I felt after two days of barely eating. I needed to get to the drugstore and fast. We were back at the apartment within half an hour, and Olivia sat on the floor of the hallway just outside the bathroom door while I took the test.
“Starting the timer,” I called out when I finished peeing on the stick.
“I’m going to make you some dry toast. Barely any smell. Barely any taste. Maybe you’ll be able to keep it down,” Olivia told me.
By the time she was back to the hallway carrying the plate, I was standing in the doorway of the bathroom with the stick in my hand. She met my eyes, and I fell into her arms crying.
31
Quentin
I watched Merry walk down the hallway past my office again, and I swore her footsteps got faster when she got near my door. Her shoes clicked loudly against the floor. Her pace would be steady and casual as she started her way down the hall, then get quicker and shorter as she made her way past my office, then slow again as she continued away from my door. It wasn’t enough to consider it a full-out run or anything, but she was not wasting time getting away from my orbit.
If it was anyone else, I would think the rushing was only because it was race day and everybody on the complex was busting their butts to try to get ready for the big event that night. The tailgate party at the last race was a massive success. People had started emailing and messaging by the next day asking if we were having another one and if they had to buy tickets for it. It was exciting, but it only meant a mountain more work preparing for the night’s race, and I wouldn’t think twice about anyone else even full sprinting past my office. If nothing more than to look like they were working their hardest.
But I knew Merry was scurrying past me for another reason. She didn’t want me to notice she was there so I wouldn’t try to talk to her. Or even if I did notice her, she wanted to be moving too fast for me to get up and come after her. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind several times already that day. I wanted to talk to her more than anything else. The first time I saw her walk by the office, I moved to get up, wanting to go find her and bring her into a quiet room so I could just get a few minutes with her. But I stopped myself before I even made it around to the front of my desk. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that. I wasn’t supposed to try to find any time alone with her or have any conversations about anything but work.
Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to want those things. All my thoughts and concentration were supposed to be on nothing but doing what I was supposed to be doing to fulfill my role in the company. And that role was to do my own damn job, to keep the company afloat, and keep our team winning. That was it. Those were supposed to be my only goals, and I had to stay laser-focused to make sure they did. Staying focused meant staying away from her. And I certainly wasn’t the only one paying attention to my actions and making sure I was on my best behavior. Nobody was saying anything to me about it, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice the way everybody was looking at me and how they reacted every time I so much as shifted my weight if she was mentioned or was walking past the office.
It was ridiculous, really. The whole damn company had taken her side. These people were practically my family, and I’d known them most of my life. Some of them actually were my family. The point was, as much as I knew why they were doing it, it seriously sucked to have everybody standing up for her almost like they were making some sort of wall around her with their thoughts and pressures.
But then again, it was exactly the way it should be. In all honesty, this was what I’d created for myself. I was the cad who couldn’t keep my hands off my pretty young employee and had let my attraction to her get the best of me. Not once, but twice. But at least everybody only sort of knew about that firs
t time. Even with only that, I deserved the way everyone was reacting to me. At least it wasn’t all negative. Some were giving me the cold shoulder, but others, mostly my family, were giving me looks. They were hard to describe because they changed so much. Sometimes they were sad. Sometimes they were a little angry. Sometimes they were just flat-out judgmental, but they were going to keep it in because I was family and they didn’t want to hurt me. That was a special kind of look. One of those facial expressions only people from the South really understand. It’s part of our culture right up there with the sweet tea and salted watermelon at picnics.
I dragged my hand back through my hair. It was getting long. I hadn’t noticed, but now I realized in the last several weeks I’d been too distracted to bother making an appointment at the barber. That was just another sign of how distracted and disconnected I’d become recently. Usually I looked forward to my haircuts. They were a time to relax a bit and catch up with the same barber who had been cutting my hair for the last twenty years. But I had managed to miss at least two appointments and was definitely seeing the effects. I was going to have to make a point to call James the next day and make an appointment. Maybe I would even have a hot shave. it would probably do me good after all the tension I’d been dealing with.
I tried to focus on the work in front of me again, but that telltale click of shoes started coming down the hallway again. This time I didn’t let myself look up to watch her hurry past. Maybe if she glanced in and saw I was still looking at my desk rather than up at her it would take the edge off a bit. Everybody around the complex was taking their cues from her. As long as Merry was uncomfortable and acting like something was off, everybody else would, too. I looked forward to when this would finally blow over and we could get back to normal.
The Freeman Brothers: A Secret Baby Romance Collection Page 16
