I’m pulling my office door shut when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I freeze momentarily while a montage plays of me spinning around to find Bronson Campbell behind me with tears in his eyes, pleading with me not to walk out that door. But alas, when I actually turn around, I find Missy Rig, the HR manager, staring at me.
“Hi Missy.”
She ignores my greeting and peers in my box. “You didn’t steal any of our office supplies did you?”
“Um, no. I just have my personal items.” I shouldn’t be surprised, Missy is…not the warmest person, which I find strange for someone in a human resources role.
“Not even a stapler? Everyone loves to take our staplers, but that’s company property.”
I didn’t steal anything that I can think of, but anytime someone questions me I feel like I must be guilty. I feel perspiration emerging on my forehead as she snoops through my box.
“Missy, seriously?” Brittany walks up, and I sigh with relief. “Leave her alone. You’re not the office supply police.”
Missy puts her hand on her hip and glares at Brittany. She opens her mouth, but then thinks better of it and marches away.
Addressing me, Brittany smiles coyly and says in a high-pitch, sing-songy voice, “I got you a going away present.”
“You did?”
“Of course, I did.” She motions for me to join her in her office. I take one step inside as she lifts a large pink box off her desk. I immediately recognize it. Gemma’s Gourmet Bakery. “Couldn’t let you leave without one last taste of salted caramel bliss.”
I immediately set my items down and grab the pink box from her hands. “I’ll just have a bite now and save the rest for later,” I say, lying to us both.
When I lift the lid, I see a half dozen circles with light brown frosting. And the beautiful thing about Gemma’s donuts…there’s no hole in the middle so you’re not skimped out of an extra bite. Which, in a sense, makes them more like little round cakes. My mouth waters at the sight of my old friends. These are different, though. Instead of little flakes of salt on top, there’s letters written in frosting.
I squint, trying to figure out what it says. “What’s this…O…Is that a B? And…a C? What’s that spell?”
“That’s not an O, it’s a heart.” Brittany peers into the box.
“Heart, B, C? I have no clue. Is this a riddle?”
“Riddles? I love riddles.”
The hair stands up on the back of my neck. Iknowthat voice. That beautiful voice is infused with manliness and positivity. That voice is a shot of adrenaline straight to my stupid girlish heart.
“Bronson, hey.” Brittany moves to take the box from me, but I hold tight.
Her eyes widen and my grip tightens. Oh no. These donuts aren’t leaving my side. I need them. They are my crutch. If I’m holding on to something, maybe I won’t melt into a puddle.
“Hi,” I manage meekly.
“Are those Gemma’s donuts? Those are the best. Got any extras?”
“Oh I don’t know if you’d like this kind.” Brittany holds her hand firmly on top of the box.
I tilt my head at her, confused. This is Bronson Campbell. He could ask for a kidney and I’d give it to him without hesitation. Brittany knows this. Why is she being so weird?
“I promise you, I likeeverykind. Seriously, you cannot go wrong with Gemma’s.” He peers with his brown, precious, puppy dog, eyes at the box, and I lift the lid.
Brittany lets out what sounds like a whimper.
“What’s up with the message? Heart, B, C?”
“He got it right away,” Brittany murmurs.
At that moment, the meaning of the message hits me like cold water sloshing across my face. This cannot be happening.
Bronson studies the letters. “Love, B, C? So it’s a riddle?”
