I hold my breath, waiting for whatever he decides. Eventually, he seems to come to the same conclusion I have.
He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “You’re right. This fucking project is taking all of my damn energy, and I’m still not getting half the shit done that needs finishing.”
I push out a breath, feeling relieved that he’s finally starting to make some sense on the matter.
“We’ll meet.”
“Great. I was thinking of a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday schedule. And before you say no,” I insist, holding up my hand to stop him when he looks as if he’s about to interrupt, “a short thirty or forty-minute meeting by phone or once a week isn’t going to cut it. You know this. I’ve got at least three different lawyers calling me daily with new updates. And I’ve lost track of all the numbers accountants are throwing at me each day. That’s in between the calls and meetings I have with counselors on their specific needs and wants for improvement.”
Mark sighs, staring off into the distance before his gaze returns to me. “Same on my end. Three days a week is probably the minimum.”
“I can squeeze in weekends, too.”
He eyes me. “Don’t push it.”
I hold up my hands.
“Call Suzette and have her put you in my schedule.”
“Starting today.”
He blinks.
“We’ve only got weeks to see this thing through. We’ve already lost three days.”
“Fine. Today. Whatever.”
“Great. I’m already in your schedule.”
“What? How?”
“Same person who told me you stop at this coffee shop every Thursday morning. Suzette. She may not know the ins and outs of this merger, but she’s great at memorizing a schedule. I’ll see you at four. You should plan for this to be a long day.”
I gather all of my nerves to give him one last look before I walk around him in the opposite direction, to where I parked my car. Though I don’t turn around to see, I feel as if he’s watching me walk away. The little tingle that moves up through my legs along my back body tells me as much.
Part of me wants to pivot and stare him in the eyes again. The other part of me wants to break out into a run to hide behind something. I don’t want him to see me. To see all of me, the way he used to. Even in high school, he had a way of looking right through me to see what others couldn’t.
Sighing as I slam my car door closed, I press my palm to my chest. Yep, my heartbeat is rapid enough to make one think I just sprinted that last block.
I close my eyes and steady my breathing to slow it down. At the same time, I remind myself,Don’t get too close.
It’safter seven o’clock at night when I pull into the driveway that evening. Another long day, but for the first time in a few days, I feel like I’m making some progress on this thing at work. And that’s only after my first one-on-one meeting with Mark this afternoon.
He remained cold and distant during the meeting, which I expected. But he showed up ready, with notes, files, and paperwork in hand. As I suspected, he was more prepared and better equipped to handle my inquiries directly than Suzette ever could. Given the headway we made in a few short hours, I’m feeling at ease when my cell phone rings as I sit in the car.
Smiling at the name displayed on my phone, I pick up with a, “Hey, Desiree.”
“I can’t believe I got you and not your voicemail,” she responds.
Desiree is my best friend. I was initially friends with her older sister, Deirdre. Deirdre and I became instant friends the moment we met in college in Seattle. She was fearless, opinionated, and spirited. She was everything I wasn’t, and for some reason, she took a liking to me.
A year later, Desiree moved in with Deirdre to start school at the same university. We quickly became a trio of sorts. What I didn’t know, initially, was that Deirdre had a problem. Deirdre’s carefree ways got her hooked on alcohol and drugs. It didn’t take long for her to spiral down into the quicksand of addiction, making it impossible for either Desiree, her parents, or even me to pull her out.
My friend spent years in and out of rehab, trying to kick her habit. She failed and died as a result of an overdose. At her funeral three years ago, it broke my heart to see how Desiree blamed herself for her sister’s downfall.
Make sure you look out for her if something happens to me,Deirdre made me promise one night, out of the blue. We were sitting in my apartment, talking, and listening to music, and she asked me to look after her sister. So I did because it’s what I do. I look after people, even though I try my best to keep my distance because, for too many people, being around me hasn’t stopped them from getting hurt.
But Desiree is more independent than Deirdre knew. She’s sweet in a way that most people aren’t. So sweet, she’s actually a baker. Mostly of cookies, but other treats, too. For now, it’s her side hustle, but I know she wants it to be her full-time job. I can see her owning a bakery someday.
