by Emily Childs
“Right,” she says, hardly more than a whisper.
I’d do just about anything to know what she’s really thinking. I swallow hard and clap my hands over my knees, pushing off the couch. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
“Laney,” I say at the door. “You should know you have an out if you ever feel like this is too much. Your job is safe. I promise. I’ve got it in writing too.”
“Thinking ahead.”
“I guess. I’ll send it to you.”
She nods, but doesn’t say anything. I pause at the door for half a breath before offering an awkward, tight smile and slipping outside.
So that’s that. Laney is my girlfriend. I lean against her door, and close my eyes.
You idiot. What did you just do?
Chapter 8
Laney
The walk into Everett Consulting and Marketing has never been more tedious. It feels as though everyone is watching me, wondering, like they know the schemes I’ve schemed with my boss. No, boyfriend. My boss is my boyfriend.
I swallow twice, feeling like sand lines the back of my throat.
The elevator ride feels like an eternity. The doors open before I’m ready.
I cling to my purse, eyes flicking side to side, and enter the office one minute late. Everyone on the team is already busying around, papers rustling, racket from the copy machine firing, everything I ought to be accustomed to, but today each sound rings in my brain like an alarm.
“Hey Laney,” Janna says.
I jump back. “What!”
“Whoa,” she chuckles. “Take it easy on the caffeine, yeah?”
Stop being a freak. I force a laugh, but honestly, it sounds like I’m about to get a shot, but don’t want to be a wuss. “Sorry. Yeah, stayed up late, then binged on espresso.”
“Well, hopefully you’ve got room for food still. Some sales company is here, trying to get us to invest in their team planning, blah, blah, software. Whatever, all I know is there are bagels and schmear and I’m starving. Oh, Bastien was looking for you.”
“Bastien?”
Janna lifts a brow. “Uh, yeah.”
“He’s here. Now?”
“What’s up with you? Yes, like always, the workaholic dreamboat—remember that last part stays between us—has been in his office probably since three this morning.”
“Right.” I give Janna my best grin, I’m sure it looks more like a grimace, and weave my way to my desk, skipping the detour to the boss’s office.
Behind the foggy glass panels, the shadow of Bastien’s form is unmoving, but I see him in my mind perfectly. Unbothered by our conversation last night, leaning over a report of some kind, absent the same rapid pounding I have in my head. Has he thought about this at all? Maybe he’ll change his mind. But that thought brings the awkward realization that I’m not sure I want him to change his mind.
Not that I feel affection for Bastien. Absolutely not. He’s still the snob I’ve always known. True he showed a little vulnerability last night, but that is beside the point. I’ve grown accustomed to the free pass to spend time with Holly Everett. I’m not like Nicole—vibrant, sweet, and funny. Still, I’m confident she’ll be impressed with what I can bring to the fifth floor and it would help if I had some one on one visits.
Placing my earpiece in, I fire up my computer, take a deep breath, and start the day. My palms sweat when an email from Holly pops up.
Looking forward to your interview.
A generic message, probably the same one she sent to everyone who is vying for a position on the new team. Still, I like to think she smiled when she sent mine. Next is a message from Oscar with a link to a newly listed opening. My smile widens. A new digital marketing manager. A manager.
I shoot off a thanks as a response for thinking of me. Have I mentioned how much I like my sister’s fiancé?
Janna waves at me over the cubicles, pointing toward the doors that’ll lead out into the lobby. She mouths, bagels, then rubs her belly. I scoff, and hurry to follow the weirdo.
A silver-fox type stands next to a foosball table Dan brought in so the third floor would feel more like the fifth. Next to him a woman with bright pink lipstick hands out packets of information on this new and improved software. The tagline: Let us do the brain work. You do enough. Uh, okay. What are the brainiac analysts supposed to do then?
“Help yourself, please,” Silver-fox keeps saying as more of our office filters into the lobby.
I do help myself. Janna already leads the pack, smearing savory veggie spread over an herb bagel, jabbering on with a guy from the mail room. I think he just lucked out and stopped for a bagel, to be honest. But Janna doesn’t seem to mind.
“Is it wrong to eat all this when there’s no way we’re buying what this guy is selling?”
The plastic knife, slathered in strawberry cream cheese, fumbles out of my hand, splattering a mess across three bagels at least. Grabbing a napkin, I whip around, face hot. Stop it, Laney.
Bastien backs away, holding up his hands, trying to fight a laugh at my expense. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” I wipe off the top of a poppy seed bagel, but really, I’m making my mess worse. Fighting against the rapid tick of my pulse, I smack the messy bagel onto Bastien’s paper plate. “Merry Christmas.”
Is he nervous? There’s a bit of color in his cheeks. “Just what I always wanted.”
I flash him a gummy smile, fake as anything, and start to reapply my schmear to a plain bagel.
Bastien clears his throat. “How are you?”
“Lovely.” I snatch up a handful of napkins, giving my face time to cool down before I look at him. Nothing has changed from last night to this morning except a few words, a strange agreement. Bastien is still the stern guy who bosses me around, I’m still the girl who reads under the covers and studies commercial taglines for fun. Funny, but it sure feels like a few words changed everything. “You’re wanted.”
If we weren’t surrounded by our colleagues, I’d snort out an ugly laugh the way Bastien’s face goes slack in surprise. Even his mouth parts a little. Rolling my eyes against the flush prickling up my neck, I laugh and turn him around toward the sales team. The salesman is grinning and signaling for Bastien to test out the software pulled up on his laptop.
Aware I’m touching his bicep, I quickly release him, and take a step back. “Looks like you’re wanted.”
“Right,” he mutters and adjusts his suit coat, buttoning the center button.
Bastien sits at the setup and follows instructions while the rest of us watch. Most of us are more interested in our bagels and idle chatter than the presentation. Except for one part when something glitches. The salesman starts to see it through, a hint of color in his face as Bastien explains a different algorithm that would work as well.
“Yes,” says the salesman, “but why take the time to write it all out when the program does it for you?”
“Does it?” Bastien asks, scribbling notes onto a pad of paper. “I’ve got my probabilities right here and this is still thinking.”
The salesman nods and explains how the software works when all the bugs are clear. Not a great selling point, in my humble opinion, bringing up bugs and such.
“Okay but what about testing separate campaigns?” Bastien asks, in full nerd mode. “I don’t see any options like that.”
“A/B testing is a feature we’re developing. There, now, uh, now try it.” The salesman isn’t as smooth as before, and part of me thinks he doesn’t really know how to work the system. My theory proves correct when Bastien points out another glitch, but in the end is the one to work through the solution.
In his head.
“Do you think he tries to be a mad data scientist, or does it come natural?” Janna whispers. “Like, who loves numbers this much?”
I bite my lip to hide a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s why he’s the boss. I’ll admit the testing part is k
ind of fun. Helps weed out bad target markets for campaigns and stuff.”
Janna sniffs. “Ugh, you’re one of them too.”
“Why are you working in a data analysis office if you can’t handle a few geeks?”
“Two words: car payment.” Janna picks at her bagel. “At least he’s a hot nerd. You think he’s going to eat that bagel? I mean, he hasn’t even touched it. By the looks of him, maybe he doesn’t eat carbs.”
Heat flashes through my chest. Janna is checking out Bastien. Without shame.
I nudge her in the ribs, drawing her eyes away, and I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want her looking. “I think he’s just picky when it comes to baked goods.”
“Who takes issue with bagels?”
“Bakery kids,” I whisper. Why am I explaining Bastien, like I know him? “He was raised in a bakery, same as Oscar.”
“Really?” She tilts her head as though seeing him for the first time. “That’s sort of sweetly sexy. Why the heck did he leave decadence and sugar to do math? Something isn’t right with that.”
I shrug, wishing I could feign indifference, but I keep spewing fun facts about the guy. “Most of the family has a day job, but still helps out with the shop here and there.”
Janna lifts a brow. “Huh. Didn’t know you two were suddenly buddies.”
I open my mouth to argue everything I’ve said is common knowledge, but stop when the rest of the office claps mildly, and Bastien graciously accepts a card from the flustered salesman. Doesn’t take a genius to see his presentation didn’t go according to plan.
I jump when a hand rests on my shoulder. “Oscar,” I say, palm on my chest. “Geez, you’re like a ninja. What’s up?”
I’m proud to say Oscar and I fell into an easy, albeit sarcastic relationship, when he started dating Nicole. Right now, anything carefree is absent on his face. My future brother-in-law scowls at me, mouth tight.
“I need to speak with you and Mr. Olsen.”
My stomach falls out through my yellow sneakers. Since when does Oscar, Bastien’s best friend and basically third brother, call him Mr. Olsen?
“Uh, okay.”
Oscar isn’t listening. He’s directing that scowl onto Bastien, and pointing toward the back office. Bastien nods, but if his gut is locked on a taffy puller like mine, it doesn’t show. My pulse hammers in my chest, and I’m afraid a rib might snap. Oscar knows something.
I hurry through the cubicles, and welcome myself into Bastien’s office ahead of the guys and take the chair on the opposite side of his desk, folding my hands in my lap.
When the heavy glass door opens, I catch Bastien mid-conversation.
“. . . hernia. Relax, man.”
Oscar drops his fat, HR binder onto Bastien’s desk. I jump in my seat. Oscar’s not looking at me though, he’s glaring at Bastien who, too calmly, takes his place in his black, leather, fancy lumbar-support chair.
Lacing his fingers behind his head, I get a good look at the tone of his chest, his body, and I’m ashamed for looking too long. Keeping my cool, though, is key. Delightful as he is to look at, this is Bastien. Don’t be an idiot, Laney, I think. Bastien is a heartbreaker, smooth talker, class-act jerk under that thin layer of vulnerability.
Unless it’s the other way around.
I spare a moment to wonder if the thin layer is the class-act jerk part. Maybe the substance of Bastien Olsen is the vulnerable part.
“Osc,” Bastien finally says. “What’s up?”
Oscar stops thumbing silently through his policy binder. His jaw pulses. “I’m here as HR. I received an email from Piper, inquiring whether you—an administrator in this building—had turned in your relationship disclosure.”
Has this building always been so hot? I shift in my seat.
Bastien glances at his fancy wristwatch. “It’s literally nine thirty. Give me some time.”
“Time’s up,” Oscar growls. Yes, he sounds like an angry dog as he slaps two pieces of paper onto Bastien’s keyboard. Then he wheels on me. “No longer here as HR. Laney, what are you doing? Nicole is going to be devastated you kept this from her.”
“I-I—”
“Oscar—” Bastien starts.
“Oh, I’ll get to you,” Oscar snaps, but he dives into his friend anyway. “When did we stop talking, you idiot? You keep this from me so I can find out from Piper?”
There are times when silence feels more like nails on the chalkboard. Bastien meets Oscar’s glare, but says nothing. Nicole will be more than devastated, she’ll kill me. Since I was sixteen, it’s been my sister and me against the world. At this point, we can practically sense when the other is sick to their stomach.
“Well?” Oscar goes on. His voice is low and even, but edged in frustration. “Anyone want to say anything?”
Say what you’re comfortable with. Bastien told me as much last night. I ought to confess the entire scheme. The temporariness of it all. Oscar deserves that, right?
“It’s just new,” I whisper. I’m a coward.
“New?”
Bastien follows my lead. “Really new.”
“Then enlighten me how Piper knows before family?”
I take the lead, feeling more in control of myself if I’m reciting the story. Bastien offers the occasional nod as I tell Oscar about Holly’s interference, how he panicked during the meeting and told her the truth, but how we didn’t want others to know yet.
“And everything spiraled after that,” I finish. “We weren’t going to say anything, you know. We don’t know where it’s going.” I’m treading closer to lies. I know where this is going. We’ll be finished while Oscar is still on his honeymoon.
“I don’t get it,” Oscar says. “You were just complaining about Bass the other day, Laney.”
“What?” Bastien says sharply, and narrows his eyes.
My hands go up in surrender. “I can still like him even if he’s annoying.”
Funny, but that didn’t feel like a lie.
Bastien’s ears tinge in red, but Oscar chuckles. “True. I guess, I thought we’d be the first to know.”
“Dude, you understand how intense our families are, right? We wanted a buffer period.” Bastien glances at me, as if to gauge if I’m good with what he’s saying. When I don’t do anything, he goes on. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to spill to Brita about this the second you get out of here.”
Oscar smirks. “They’re not dumb. They’ll notice at the wedding anyway. Just remember you’ll deal with the wrath of Brit and your mom if you don’t have something ready to tell them.”
I smile when Bastien’s ears grow redder. Imagining the closeness of the Olsens and even if Oscar’s last name isn’t the same, he still claims Jacobson as the generic way to describe the other half. Truth told, I wouldn’t mind a meddling family. Two can get awfully quiet and lonely.
“Guys, I’ll be honest,” Oscar starts. I brace for him to tell us what a dumb idea this is, and I’m afraid I might agree. “I can only speak for Nicole and me, but we’ve been waiting for this for a long time. I wondered if you two would ever wise up and see it.” He stands and gathers his HR binder. “Look, if it’s still new you don’t need to sign the forms. See where it goes, but Laney, talk to Nicole. I might be able to keep his part from my family, but I’m not keeping it from your sister.”
“Unfair,” I whine.
“Or incredibly smart. What’s the saying? Happy wife, happy life?”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Bastien says. “He’s going to tell Brita. Or at least Agnes, who will then tell Brita.”
“No, Ag will go straight for Jonas. She’s direct like that.”
Bastien frowns. “Even worse.”
“I don’t think I like you anymore,” I tell Oscar.”
He laughs and ruffles my hair like a big brother might. “Yes, you do.” He pauses at the door. “How are you going to handle the wedding? Bass, my mom and yours can sniff out a romance across the room.”
“Brita and Jonas hid theirs.”
“Doesn’t count,” Oscar says. “We all hated each other back then. Romance wasn’t on their minds. You might want me to spill, you know, give them time to process so they don’t attack you.”
“Fine,” Bastien says, flicking his eyes to me again, his face clearly asking, Okay if my family knows?
I swallow and imagine how the dress fitting will be on Friday. Brita will be there. I blink when I meet his eyes, and give a soft nod.
Bastien faces Oscar, his voice isn’t as firm as before. “Don’t worry about us on your wedding, Osc. It’s your day.”
Oscar smiles, his old, familiar playful smile, and taps the door frame. “Alright. I’m happy for you guys, but no more secrets, yeah?”
We both blow out a unified breath when Oscar leaves us to commiserate in our half-truths. My knee is still bouncing. I curl my fists over the tops of my thighs, trying to think of something witty, or mildly insulting to say to break this suffocating tension.
“So, uh, you hated Oscar once, huh?” Weird, but at least it takes the attention off us.
Bastien’s mouth twitches. “Still do, can’t you tell? It’s a long story, but basically our families didn’t get along until Brita and Jonas got together. Now it’s like I have two families who won’t mind their own business.”
I smile as I stand. “Well, when we’re making small talk on our incredibly romantic dates, I’ll expect the full story.”
“I like the sound of these dates,” he says.
“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Liking the sound of it even more.”
“Well, I have high expectations, and the feuding bakers’ story is now on my list of priorities. Better keep me satisfied or I’ll dump you.”
“Direct,” he says, leaning back against his chair. “To the point. Good quality, Brooks.”
I’m flirting. Not well, but it strikes me in all the wrong places that I’m actually flirting with Bastien. I tilt my head to hide my flush. “I better get back to work.”
“Wait, Laney,” he says, all mirth lost in his tone. “Were you uncomfortable? I told you, don’t say anything you’re not comfortable with.”
