by Scott, Lisa
He sank onto the couch and looked at the ceiling. “At first she offered me the account manager position in Boston.”
“Oh, my God. So you could stay here and move up? What happened?”
“I wouldn’t sleep with her.”
Joy sat beside him and blinked a few times. “Oh.”
Tom reached for her hand. “I wouldn’t do that to you. But Jillian didn’t take it well. And the next day in front of all the execs at the meeting she told them I was the new account manager they were looking for—in New York.” He shrugged. “We left right after that, and I didn’t have a chance to explain I wasn’t looking to move.”
“If she was so mad you wouldn’t sleep with her, why would she give you a promotion at all?”
“To be spiteful. To keep me away from you.”
Joy’s hand rose to cover her mouth. She swallowed hard and curled her hand into a fist, setting it at her side. “What are you going to do? You don’t want to be stuck working here with her. And she’ll never promote you in Boston now.”
“I just got you, Joy. I can’t lose you. You’re more important to me than my work.”
“No. Your work is important too, and I don’t want to hold you back. You’ll resent me a year from now. Take the New York job. We’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t think long distance will work, Joy.”
“I’ll come with you.”
He said nothing.
“You don’t want me to come with you?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “You’d do that? You just got a fabulous new job, a foot in the door at the modeling agency.”
She waved her hand. “It’s not so fabulous. I’m lonely and bored. And New York is a great place to pursue a modeling career. Better than Boston. I’ll be fine just as long as I’m with you.”
He held her hands. “Really? Should we do this?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to call the New York office before Jillian screws it up for me. Then we celebrate.”
She stood up and stepped out of her skirt. “I’ll be in the bedroom, waiting.”
“And you wonder why I wouldn’t leave you?”
***
Tom walked into Jillian’s office the next morning. “Do you need two weeks notice, or can I leave today?”
She stood up behind her desk. “Excuse me?”
“I’m taking the New York job.”
“What? You said you wouldn’t leave Joy behind. Bob’s ready to go. I talked to him this morning, and I have a conference call with New York at noon.”
“You’d better tell him to change his plans. I talked to the New York office last night, and they’re ready for me as soon as I can get there.”
Looking out her window, she tapped a fingernail on her desk. She turned to him with a sly smile. “This must be bad news for you and Joy. Maybe you and I can have a little going away party.”
“Actually, she’s coming with me.”
Jillian’s jaw dropped. “She’s leaving TK Models? Do you know how many strings I pulled to get her in there? How many clients I schmoozed to get that other receptionist a few jobs so she’d leave her position? That ungrateful….” Jillian’s cheeks turned red.
Tom walked over and patted her arm. “We’re going to miss you.”
He walked across the hall to see Joy. Her sleek, dark hair hung past her shoulders. He couldn’t wait to run his fingers through it. He stood there a moment, watching her lips move as she talked. To think he’d waited all this time to move their relationship to the next level. Idiocy.
She smiled when she saw him, and he walked over and leaned across the desk, kissing her.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“For choosing to come with me.”
She smiled at him. “I’m thrilled to be coming, but I made the choice for me.”
“Good, and here’s another choice you can make—why don’t you pick our apartment?”
“Excuse me?”
“I think we should get a place together. It just makes sense.”
“Oh, my God. Yes.” She jumped up and hugged him and didn’t even notice the client that had walked in. “Oh, excuse us,” she said, stepping back, smoothing down her skirt.
The guy rubbed his chin, smiling. “Not at all. The way you were looking at him—can you do that again?
“I’m a lucky man, she does that all the time,” Tom said.
Joy beamed at Tom.
“Yes, that look right there. That’s what we want for our chocolate commercial. I’m with Godiva. I want someone to look at our chocolate just like that—like they’re in love and can never get enough.”
“She looks at your chocolate like that, too,” Tom said, laughing.
“It’s true,” Joy said.
“Excellent. I’ve found the one model willing to eat chocolate. We’re shooting in a few weeks and I want you in the spot. If it works out, there’ll be more to come.”
She looked down trying to keep her smile in place. “Thank you so much for the offer, but I’m moving. So, I won’t be available.”
Tom touched her arm. “Joy, I can wait. Stay here. Do this.”
“Where are you moving to?” the guy asked.
“New York.”
The guy laughed. “That’s practically in our back yard. Plane, train or automobile, we’ll get you back here for the shoot. You don’t find a girl like you every day.”
“No, you don’t,” Tom said with a lump in his throat.
“I’m going to go talk to the boss and tell her we’ve found our Godiva girl.” He walked toward the office and Joy spun to face Tom. “Can you believe it?”
“No.” His tone was serious.
Her smile fell.
“I cannot believe how incredibly lucky and blessed a jerk like me is to have someone like you. It took him two seconds to see you’re one in a million and it took me six months.”
“You never were a jerk. Dumb, maybe. Thick at least.”
He laughed. “I deserve that.”
Joy hugged him then peeked over his shoulder across the hall. “You better get back to work. I think they’re ready with your farewell prank.”
“You know about this?”
“Yes, but I suppose now that I don’t work there, I don’t need to keep quiet.”
“Talk,” he said.
“Think twice before eating the sponge cake. Jenny made it with actual sponges. And the tattoos they’re all wearing that say “Don’t go Tom” aren’t real, but you probably would’ve figured that out. There’s a blow-up doll in your chair to take your place since you didn’t do anything anyway…and they’ve recorded something disturbing and put it in that weird bear, and there’s possibly going to be a Gatorade shower, so leave your suit coat here.”
“You do love, me don’t you?” Then he froze. They hadn’t quite shared that sentiment yet.
She reached for him with one hand, and placed the other over her heart. “I do love you, Tom.”
He felt his eyes moisten. “I love you, too.” His voice had gotten husky. “And I’m going to spend every minute catching up for lost time.” He kissed her once more then went back to the office to say goodbye to what had been a very good part of his life.
But he was saying hello to an even better part.
***
The Right Man for the Job
Charlotte Michaels took a deep breath before walking into the office after her three week “vacation.” If she acted like her time off was no big deal, maybe everyone else would, too. Technically, some of it had been a vacation. She did go to Paris as planned—by herself, of course. Then she called in to work asking for another week of personal time. And then one more. But three weeks wasn’t enough time to get over her divorce even if she was moved out of Sean’s apartment and into her own new place.
Maybe no one knew they’d split up. Maybe Jillian kept the news to herself like Charlotte had asked. Right. A stranded baby dolphin had a better chance at survival in the o
ffice fish tank than a secret. It was probably as secret as Joy and Tom’s fling had been.
After standing in the hallway for a few moments wondering where her courage had gone, she mumbled, “Screw it,” and went inside.
Half the office was huddled around the semi-circular reception desk watching something online. They all looked up when she walked in, like a pack of cats following a red dot on the wall. There was a good chance that’s what they were watching. The new receptionist, Lizzy, loved her kitten videos and often dragged people over to share in the joy. It didn’t take much to amuse her coworkers—or pull them away from their work. Although it was more likely someone had uploaded the latest office prank onto the web and they were checking the comments on YouTube. One of their videos had hit over one million views. It was a mock-ad of a frightening stuffed bear that had been uploaded by mistake. At first the clients had been horrified, but then it went viral and people were buying the toy as a joke for their friends, not for their kids. What was the slogan again? “Dandy Bear. For the kid you don’t like best.”
“Charlotte! Welcome back.” Jenny hurried from behind the desk to hug her.
Charlotte returned the hug and detected the slightest pause from Jenny; she was probably weighing her next words. “Did you enjoy zee French fries in France? Were zay better zare?” Jenny asked.
That got a good laugh from everybody. Leave it to Jenny to lighten the mood.. Charlotte was grateful. A joke was better than pity.
“Couldn’t find any. I had a lot of cheese, though.”
And then dead silence from the rest of them. Which was uncomfortable but better than the next question from Shelby. “If a honeymoon is a trip for the beginning of the marriage, was this a trip for the end of it? Is that a thing? If not, you should claim it and name it. A bittermoon? A bummermoon? You could start a blog and become an expert for women who get married and divorced in less than a year. I don’t think anyone has branded that market yet. Maybe you could get a book deal.” She nodded encouragingly, as if she were being helpful.
Shelby was born without the filter that kept most people from saying what everybody else was thinking. It was hard to be mad at her, because she wasn’t being mean-spirited. She just couldn’t help herself.
“Shelby!” their boss, Jillian scolded. “None of us knows why Charlotte got divorced. Could be gambling or hidden debt. A secret baby. Ooh, a pornography addiction?” she whispered. “Did he go on a sex vacation without you?”
Charlotte stood frozen. Then she noticed the goldfish floating belly up in the tank across from the reception desk. Fitting, she thought.
Jillian frowned when she didn’t get a response. “Or maybe not. Maybe she thinks the divorce was a good thing, not a bummer. All three of my splits were great news.” Jillian smiled and paused as if waiting on an explanation for Charlotte’s quick divorce. “But truly, branding yourself as a divorce expert is a fabulous idea. You could hire us to help with the campaign.”
“That’s an idea,” Charlotte said, because she hoped to be reminded for the rest of her life what a failure she was at love. Her eyes stung, but she would not cry at work. She would not cry over Sean. Even though now she knew he’d cheated on her even before they were married, she wasn’t sad. She was mad—mad that she married the wrong guy in the first place when Mr. Right was here in the office.
She tried not to look at Tristan, but she caught a glimpse of him standing with the group. It was hard to miss his bright blond hair and smirky smile. The man looked like he was always brewing a joke in his head. He was rarely part of the office prank patrol, although he always seemed to be amused by the jokes, and as the head of IT often cleaned up their messes when their pranks involved computers.
Charlotte glanced around at everyone staring at her and gulped. “I feel like I should’ve brought croissants or something. I’m sorry.”
“You could still bring them in tomorrow,” Shelby said. “With some strawberry jam, please. Oh, and since everyone was talking about it before you came in, I’ll go ahead and ask. Are couples obligated to return wedding gifts if they don’t make it through the first year?”
That brought on a round of groans. A few paper balls sailed toward Shelby. “What? I got her a very nice blender we could use here during in-house happy hours.”
People stopped grumbling, no doubt evaluating the potential for that addition to the office kitchen.
“And I will take my Waterford decanter right off your hands if it brings back bad memories,” Jillian said soothingly. “Maybe I could regift it to my cousin when she gets around to marrying Tristan.”
So they’re still together. As if that would’ve changed in three weeks. Charlotte had to hold her breath to keep back the tears—or a scream. One or the other was on its way out. Luckily, a fake smile came easy to her and she grinned politely. “I’ll see what I have when I unpack the moving boxes. I was in a bit of a rush at the time.”
“Will you be returning monetary gifts?” someone asked, followed by a painful sounding, “Ow!”
She wanted desperately to get to her desk, but everyone had crowded around her, faces screwed into expressions that told her they wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words to use. They were probably debating whether to be kind, to be funny like Jenny had been, or better yet, to just keep quiet.
“I suppose you all had a pool going on determining how soon we’d get divorced,” Charlotte said, hoping to break the tension with some humor of her own.
A bunch of people said things like, “No way,” and “Of course not.”
“That would’ve been a good idea,” Shelby said. “But most of us placed bets the week before your wedding on whether or not it was going to be called off. I won ten bucks. I had faith in you once I saw the dress you’d chosen. I knew there was no way you were going to let that gorgeous thing go to waste.”
Jenny grabbed Shelby by the arm. “Don’t you have to stuff a bag of marshmallows in your mouth or something?” She pulled away a protesting Shelby, while the rest of the group returned to their desks. Lizzy hurried to the phone, undoubtedly to get someone to replace the goldfish before Jillian realized her beloved pet was dead, leaving Charlotte alone with Tristan.
The sight of him hit her in the gut. He’d been hers once. And she’d been so devastated by their breakup, she ran into the arms of the wrong guy.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, his soft blue eyes fixed on hers.
She forced a big smile. “Oh, sure. I’ll be fine.”
They stared at each other for a few moments. Her fingers itched, remembering the feel of his skin, the curve of his muscles. He was a tall, lean guy, but very well built. She could remember the way she’d disappear into his hugs feeling safe and warm. She gulped and bit her bottom lip to keep it from retracing the memory of a kiss. Tristan had been an excellent kisser—his scruffy little beard had always left her skin tingling afterward.
But he’d also been kind and funny, and so devoted to her. They’d spent almost all their time together. After only five months, she’d thought he might be the one. But there must’ve been something missing between them, because he told her he wanted to take a break.
Which is nice-guy speak for “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Let’s talk,” Tristan said.
“Okay.” She followed him into his office, grateful for the moment of privacy she wouldn’t have at her cubicle. Sitting down, her eyes went right to a picture of Tristan and his girlfriend, Monique, at the beach. She’d probably insisted on having that picture taken to show off her perfect body in her tiny white bikini. She probably even printed the damn thing out and insisted he keep it on his desk.
Charlotte wanted to ask how things were with Monique, but that seemed way too pathetic and obvious. Besides, Tristan had broken up with Charlotte two years ago. Why would he want her now?
***
Charlotte sat across from Tristan in his office. He thought about closing the door, but that would only get pe
ople talking more. He’d heard people speculating whether or not they’d get back together. Probably a few bets had been made, too. His chest was tight as he watched Charlotte doing her best to hold herself together. He wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, hold her tightly in his arms. She was so beautiful, so wonderful. She didn’t deserve the agony she was clearly feeling. He wanted to make her sadness go away.
He could’ve prevented this. He should’ve told her how he felt before she married someone else. Breaking up with her had been a mistake, but by the time he was ready to admit that, she was with someone else. And when he finally had the courage to say something, it was too late. If not for that damn traffic jam, he would’ve made it to the church earlier and begged her to call it off. Instead, he arrived just in time to watch the groom kiss the bride, so he snagged a seat in back. She never knew he’d been moments away from shouting, “Stop the wedding!”
Would it even have mattered?
Now here they were, inches apart, but their hearts miles away. It wasn’t supposed to have turned out this way. Back when he’d told her they should take a break for a while, he’d meant it. He needed time for his mother in the wake of his father’s death. She’d been depressed and required his full attention. She wasn’t cooking for herself, and sometimes she didn’t get out of bed until Tristan pleaded with her that Dad wouldn’t want to see her like that. At the time, he didn’t know if he could pull her out of her funk. He’d even considered placing her in a mental health facility.
Tristan hadn’t wanted to embroil Charlotte in all that. It was too soon in their relationship. And he didn’t want to betray his mother’s privacy as she worked her way through her own personal hell. His plan all along was to get back together with Charlotte once she could be his priority.
He’d never imagined that six months later she’d agree to marry some other guy. Stupidly, he’d assumed she’d still be available. But maybe Tristan hadn’t meant that much to Charlotte after all.
“I’m very sorry things didn’t work out with you and Sean,” he said.
“You are?” Her face was pale against her long, chestnut hair. She blinked at him, looking like a sad doll.
He felt like saying, “Hell, no, I’m happy because maybe I’ll have another shot with you.” But he was sorry she’d gone through so much pain. So he nodded. “At least you found out sooner than later.”
