"Says the accountant."
"We could find somewhere interesting for lunch. I could introduce you to roadside clam shacks. You know you're in New England when you're eating freshly fried littlenecks on the side of the road, especially if that shack backs up to a coastal marsh. If not bivalves, maybe hit up an arcade near the shore. Those are always a good time. There's also wandering around Bristol, the little town where the wedding is taking place. The downtown area has to have something exciting for us."
I sipped my coffee as Ash unlocked the office door. "I can't tell if you're intentionally skipping over the part about us having a hotel room all to ourselves or if that part hasn't occurred to you yet."
"It's occurred to me," he said as he marched into his office. "It's also occurred to me we have that room for the entire weekend. Pace yourself, love. I can't have you walking down the aisle on wobbly legs."
"Fair point." I started unpacking the food while Ash woke up his computers. "So we have clam shacks, arcades, and small town wanderings for our non-bed options."
"You know I don't require a bed," he quipped as he joined me at the round table.
That was true. He didn't. And neither did I.
* * *
"Hey, Zelda,"Ash called from his office. "If you have a second, could you grab the Castavechia Family Trust file from the records room? My digital file has to be missing a few things and these people won't get off my back."
I poked my head through his doorway. "Anything else?"
He glanced up at me from where he stood behind his desk, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, one hand perched on the notch of his waist while the other held a sheaf of papers. He looked like a slice of bossy deliciousness as he dragged a deliberate gaze up and down my body.
"I can't answer that," he said, his attention stuck somewhere between my hips and breasts. "Not until after I dispose of this issue and lock the doors."
"Then finish it," I said, walking backward from the threshold. "Remember, we have an entire weekend and you promised me cornhole at this shindig."
"I can promise you we won't be spending much time on cornhole," he called after me.
A smile plastered on my face, I ducked into the records room, a space more akin to a large closet than the type of room deserving of a name. I set to locating the Castavechia file but discovered it wasn't where it should've been, and as I hunted for it I found several others in the wrong location and tucked them under my arm. Humming to myself as the files in need of rehoming grew, I almost missed the voices floating down the hall. That was unexpected. It didn't sound as though Ash was on a call and he'd concluded all his meetings for the day. We didn't get walk-in visitors. All the delivery services had already passed through.
The files still in hand, I stepped out of the records room, moving toward the front of the office when I heard Ash ask, "Is there somethingspecificI can help you with?"
I knew that tone. It was hiswhy the fuck are you bothering me?tone.
Before I reached the end of the hallway, a response lanced through me. "I'm meeting my girlfriend here."
Oh my god, no. Please no.
"Your…girlfriend," Ash repeated. "Are you sure you have the right suite?"
"Quite certain, yes."
How the hell did he find me?
"Who might that be?"
He cleared his throat in that condescending manner of his. "Her name's Rose. Rose Besh."
"Rose?" Ash asked with as much hostility as he could pack into four letters.
"Yes," he replied. "I believe she's here. Is that correct?"
Since my brain was busy commanding my legs to carry me forward, it missed the panic switch cue from my gut to run, hide, fight, claw, kick. Whatever it took to hold on to the world where I didn't have to be small and invisible, that was what I had to do. As I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the reason I'd pined for an organized spice rack and a life belonging to me. The reason I hadn't been asked if I liked cheese in years.
I stopped in the reception area, a shoulder's width of distance between me and Ash and an entire ocean between me and Denis. I folded my arms over my chest, clutching the files with both hands until the edges bit into my skin. Then I held them tighter, welcoming the grooves and cuts as frustration—no, anger, this wasanger—drenched me like a summer storm.
"What are you doing here?" I asked Denis.
"There you are. I knew I was in the right place." Denis put on a show of clutching his chest before motioning to Ash. "Thanks for your help. If you don't mind, I could use a minute alone for a private discussion with my girlfriend."
