Temp

by Noelle Adams

“Okay. Thanks. You don’t have to stay late. Just do what you can.”

  I WORK FOR ALMOST TWO hours before I finish the last page. I would have had it done twenty minutes earlier, but I got bogged down on a chart that I couldn’t get to look right.

  It’s almost six when I save the final document and send it to print.

  I’m so tired my eyes are burning. I called my mom earlier to tell her I was running late. Friday night is her bridge night, so her friends are coming over with dinner and to play cards, so she didn’t mind at all that I’m working late. I wish I had friends in this town too. I don’t much want to go home and hang out in my bedroom alone all evening.

  Unsurprisingly, Liam is still at work as I pick up the hundred-page printout from the printer and neatly secure it with a binder clip. I want him to review it before I email the document to the other members of the executive team.

  When I get to the open door of his office, I realize he’s not there. He went out about twenty minutes ago—I figured just to go to the bathroom—and he hasn’t yet returned. I didn’t even realize it.

  I hesitate for a moment. I could just lay this on his desk and then pack up to leave. But I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have anyone to talk to at home. I’m not really in a hurry to close myself up in my bedroom alone. Milford isn’t really my home.

  It’s been a long time since anywhere has felt like home.

  I sit back down at my office chair and play with my phone as I wait. Liam hasn’t left for the day. His briefcase and suit jacket are still in his office, and he hasn’t locked the door or turned off the computer. He’ll be back.

  I wait for five minutes before he returns. I stand up in surprise when I see he’s carrying a bag of take-out containers. “I got some dinner if you want it,” he says.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. Since you were working late. If you want it. I don’t actually know what you like.”

  “I’m not picky. I’m sure whatever it is will be fine. Thank you.” I already said that, but I’m rattled by the unexpected gesture. “I think I’m finished with this if you want to look it over.” I pick up the sheaf of papers and hand it to him.

  He takes it in his free hand and nods toward his office. “Great. We can go over it while we eat.”

  IF I’D THOUGHT ABOUT it beforehand, I might have been afraid that eating dinner with Liam would be awkward, but it’s not.

  It’s not at all.

  In fact, I really enjoy it.

  He’s brought pasta, salad, and bread from a local Italian place. It’s still hot, and we sit at the small conference table in his office to eat it as he goes over the materials I’ve prepared.

  I’ve got a notepad with me to jot down any changes he wants to make, but he only ends up with a few. That process takes about ten minutes, and we’re still eating when we finish, so we start talking about other things.

  He asks me about growing up in Danville. About what I thought of living in DC. About whether I like the PhD program at UVA. He seems to be genuinely listening to my responses, his eyes studying my face with that close scrutiny that’s a little unnerving but also strangely gratifying.

  I’m not used to being the object of attention from a man like Liam Cunningham. As I watch him tear off a crusty bite of bread and mop up some of the sauce with it before popping it in his mouth, I feel the most unexpected sense of ownership.

  I hear myself asking, “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Well, you’ve heard all about me now. Tell me something about yourself. Why did you decide to take this job at Milford when you’ve never worked in academics before?”

  He’s pretty much done with his food now, so he leans back in his chair and rests his gaze on my face in a relaxed manner that’s almost, almost soft. “I wanted to get back to Milford to be closer to my folks. I told you that, didn’t I?”

  “But surely you could have found something else. Something closer to what you’d been doing before. Isn’t academics an entirely different thing for you?”

  “Uh, yeah. It definitely is. It took a long time to get used to the way it works here. I can’t tell you how many times Marv had to sit me down and explain that this isn’t a business and I can’t treat it like it is.”

  Marv is the college president. I’ve always thought of him as Dr. Emory, but I know who he’s talking about. “Were people all mad at you?”

  “Oh yes. I’m not an academic or anything close, so it took a long time for them to respect me. I did have to learn a few things about the priorities of an academic institution, but part of it was because I came from business and a lot of faculty genuinely resent that culture.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. The last thing faculty wants is for a college to be treated like a business.”

  “And in a lot of ways, it can’t be. But there’s not an unlimited pot of money. We don’t have a big endowment here to draw on. We rely on tuition, and colleges are hurting for money all over now. I completely understand ideals, but they do need to be realistic about it. If I don’t do my job, they won’t have paychecks for theirs.”

  “I’m sure most of them understand that. There will always be a few who are just difficult.” I haven’t quite finished my food, but I’m full, so I put down my fork. “It seems to me that most of the people here respect you. I mean, they’re...”

  “Scared of me?”

  I laugh softly. “They’re intimidated by you, but they seem to respect you. I think you’ve earned their trust.”

  Our eyes meet for just a little too long. I’m washed with a wave of pleasure and excitement.

  Liam clears his throat and fiddles with his empty pasta container.

  I don’t want our conversation to turn awkward, so I say quickly, “You never answered my question.”

  His eyes return to my face. “What question?”

  “Why you decided to make the change to Milford.”

  “Oh. I’ve known Marv forever, and he was always trying to get me to come on board at Milford. When Gail died, I... I wanted to do something completely different. I wanted everything to be different. So I took this job.”

  He’s never mentioned Gail to me before, but he’s acting like I should know who it is. “Gail was your wife?”

  His eyes shoot over to mine quickly before dropping. “Yes. She died just over four years ago.” He pauses, and when I don’t ask the next question, he answers it anyway. “Random brain embolism. It killed her instantly. There was no warning or anything. She was just gone.”

  “That’s terrible,” I murmur hoarsely. My chest is aching for him. “I don’t blame you for wanting a change afterward. How long were you two married?”

  “We dated in high school and married when we were twenty. We were married for twelve years.”

  “You didn’t have kids?” These are very personal questions, and maybe I shouldn’t be asking them, but I deeply want to know, and he seems to want to tell me.

  “No. She couldn’t have kids. It was hard for a while since we assumed we wanted them, but she had a great career as a paralegal and she loved it. I think we would have been perfectly happy without kids.”

  I’m not sure what to say. I want to reach over and take his hand. I know it would be inappropriate, but the urge is simply too strong. As a compromise, I place my hand lightly on the wrinkled sleeve of his shirt. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

  Our gazes meet again, and my heart begins to hammer.

  “Thank you.” His voice is no more than a rasp.

  I am sorry. I feel for him deeply, and I hate that he had to suffer that way.

  But I’m also aware of the fact that if his wife hadn’t died, I’d never have known him at all. I certainly would never feel this close to him.

  And that’s something I would have missed.

  We’re quiet for a few moments. Then he asks in a tone that I can tell is supposed to be casual, “So you never found anyone you wanted to be with long-term?”

&
nbsp; “No. I mean, yeah, I’ve dated some, and a few of my relationships lasted more than a year. But it always felt to me like... like dating. Like we were always just going out on a date and never really sharing our lives together. Like I wasn’t... wasn’t home.” I shrug, my cheeks warming slightly as I admit, “More than one of them said that they couldn’t get close enough to me. Maybe it was me. Maybe I have a hard time being my real self in a romantic context. Maybe I can’t let people in.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been deeply hurt or anything. I’ve never gone through a tragedy like you. I just... I’ve always kept myself to myself. I’ve always... kept my feelings close.”

  I’m telling him the truth. The deepest truth. And I’m suddenly aware that I’ve opened up with Liam more than I can ever remember doing with anyone else. In my whole life.

  And he’s my boss.

  My boss.

  I’m not supposed to be doing this. I’m not supposed to be feeling this way.

  And I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about it.

  I’ve got to do something, so I start to clean up the table, putting the trash into the bag and wiping off the crumbs and dribbles of sauce with extra napkins.

  I’m suddenly embarrassed, wondering if I just spilled out my deepest feelings with a man who doesn’t really care about me at all. Maybe I misread the situation. Maybe I turned the conversation into something it wasn’t. Maybe I really messed up.

  I stand up as I finish wiping the table. I’m going to throw the trash away and get out of here.

  “Polly.” The one word is soft. Slightly gruff. Liam has stood up too, and he’s only a few inches away from me.

  My eyes fly up to his face.

  His chocolate-brown eyes are deep. Almost tender.

  My breath hitches, and my hand unclenches around the wad of napkins I’ve been using. A shuddering begins at my core and ripples out through my entire body.

  He takes a step closer. His hand moves up to touch my face, his fingers brushing feather-soft against my cheek.

  The light touch feels so good I make a little sound of pleasure. I feel myself swaying toward him, stretching up.

  He tilts his head down. He’s going to kiss me. I know it.

  I know it. And I want it so much.

  Then he jerks back a step, like he’s mentally dragged himself away from me, and it feels like a blow to my gut.

  “Okay,” he mutters, staring at a spot over my shoulder. “Well, um, okay.”

  That pretty much embodies how I’m feeling too. I grab the trash and turn toward the door. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  One of us needs to say something more than “okay.”

  I remember my notepad, so I grab it in relief. It gives me something to say. Something to do. “I’ll run and make these little changes, and then I’ll email you the final document. You can send it out to everyone tonight.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. And thanks for dinner. It was... it was good.”

  “Good” doesn’t even come close to describing what dinner was to me. It was far more than that.

  But he’s obviously remembered who we are to each other, and I have to remember too.

  “Good. Thanks. Good.” That’s Liam. He’s returning to his desk. He’s not even looking in my direction.

  I leave his office, torn between embarrassment and deep disappointment.

  But what the hell did I expect would happen?

  It doesn’t matter how incredibly attracted to him I am. It doesn’t matter how deeply I feel attached to him.

  He’s nothing but my temporary supervisor, and those are lines that simply cannot be crossed.

  Four

  “WAIT A MINUTE. WHAT? What? You almost kissed him?” May’s voice is hushed since we’re in a corner of the Milford dining hall, and her pretty, freckled face is both shocked and delighted. “Liam Cunningham?”

  “Shh!” I make a hushing gesture and look around us quickly, despite the fact that May said the name in barely more than a whisper. We’re in the farthest corner of the dining hall, and no one is sitting at the closest tables. No one could hear what she just said. “I shouldn’t have even told you.”

  “Yes, you should have told me. I wouldn’t have missed hearing about this for anything! I can’t believe it. You really almost kissed him?”

  My cheeks are warm, but I’m as much excited about this conversation as embarrassed. I’ve been stewing about that moment with Liam since last Friday, and I haven’t had anyone I could really talk about it with. When May texted me yesterday and asked if I wanted to have lunch today, I had no intentions of telling her about it, but somehow it slipped out during our conversation. “Yes. I have no idea how it happened.”

  “Well, I mean, do you like him?”

  I sit still for a minute, thinking through the question honestly. Then I give a reluctant nod.

  “And would you be interested in something more with him if you had the chance?”

  I pause again before I say, “Yeah. I guess so. I wouldn’t have thought he was my type, but he kind of is.”

  “What kind of guys have you dated before?”

  “I don’t know that I really have a consistent type. My high school boyfriend was a laid-back, blue-collar type of guy. In DC the most serious relationships I had were with a political consultant and a lawyer. Last year in Charlottesville, I went out with an assistant professor in the history department. He was sweet and kind of geeky. I’ve never been into a grumpy workaholic before. I guess there’s always a first.”

  May laughs uninhibitedly at my dry tone, but her expression is thoughtful as she says, “So here’s the big question then. Do you think he almost kissed you back?”

  I’ve been picking at what’s left of my salad, but now I put the fork down. “I... I think so. I mean, it felt like it.” I swallow hard. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

  “Why would you be wrong?”

  “Well, it’s not always easy to tell. Sometimes we imagine things we want to happen. And I’m not sure I’m always the best at picking up social cues. You probably think it’s stupid, but...”

  “Oh my goodness, Polly! My best friend was in love with me for years and years, and I had absolutely no clue. I’m the last person in the world to judge someone else for not picking up all the romantic undercurrents. What exactly did he do?”

  This is getting intimate. Much more intimate than I usually share with other people. But I’ve been really unsettled by this whole thing, and May looks like she genuinely wants to help. “He...” I clear my throat and start again. “He moved closer to me. Then he touched my face. It looked like he was leaning down toward me before he kind of jerked back and looked all awkward.”

  “Okay. That seems pretty clear. He was into the moment too. I always wondered what kind of girl he would go for.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself! It could have just been a random fluke. There’s no reason to assume he’s really interested in... in anything. Besides, he’s my boss. Nothing can happen.”

  “Nothing can happen now. That’s definite. But you’re just a temp. He’s not going to be your boss for long. And after that, who knows?” She flashes me an almost mischievous smile.

  I roll my eyes. “After that, I’ll be going back to Charlottesville. I’m not going to quit my PhD program and move to Milford just because I have the hots for some guy.”

  “Well, no. I hope not. But Charlottesville isn’t that far away. It wouldn’t be that hard to get together often enough to see if there’s anything there. Assuming you want to.”

  The truth is I do want to. I’m not sure how it happened or where it came from, but the idea of never seeing Liam again after my temp job is done feels like a hole in my heart. That’s not exactly something I’m comfortable admitting right now, so all I say is, “I’m not sure what I want.”

  “Well, you have time. You’ve got almost a month left
with him, right?”

  “Yeah. Three and a half weeks, unless Kelly decides to come back early.”

  “So you’ll have plenty of chances to figure out how you feel before you have a chance to do anything. Just don’t kiss him while you’re working for him. That would be asking for trouble.”

  “I know. It would be incredibly stupid. I can’t believe I almost let it happen, but when I was caught in the moment, I just... just forgot about everything.”

  “That’s completely understandable. I don’t think anyone would blame you for that. But things could get messy if anything happens while he’s still your boss, so you should try to avoid getting into a difficult situation.”

  “You’re right. It would be terrible. And I really can’t afford to lose this job just because I can’t keep my hands off my boss. My apartment in Charlottesville is pretty cheap, but I need some sort of income to cover the expenses while I’m here. This is as good a temp job as I can hope for.”

  “Have you looked around at online programs that offer French classes? Maybe you could teach online for a college? That would be a way to make some extra money.”

  “I know. I’ve applied to a few, but they’re not looking for new adjuncts right now. So, for now, this job is as good as I’ve got. I don’t want to blow it, especially since there’s not much chance that the relationship would go anywhere.”

  “You never know. I don’t think Liam has dated since he moved here. At least not that I’ve heard about, and it would be big news if he got a girlfriend, so I’m sure I’d hear.”

  “His wife died right before he moved here, so I think he’s been avoiding real relationships.”

  I assume he’s probably had sex in the past four years, so maybe he’s had some casual sex. I don’t actually like to think about Liam with another woman, so I try not to think about it too deeply.

  “Yeah. That makes sense. But it’s been four years. I bet he’s ready to move on. Maybe the timing is perfect for you.” She claps her hands together in excitement.

  It makes me laugh, but I’m not going to let myself get carried away for no reason. “I doubt it. And it’s not going to do me good to invest too much into the idea when I’m still working for him. I’ll be better off just putting it from my mind completely.”