Slowly, I take a deep breath in, let it fill the four corners of my chest. I grip the door handle and my heart pounds. Mostly because of nerves over this meeting with Richard, but maybe a little bit because Wesley is on the other side of this door.
And I feel smitten.
He’s not the man I thought he was. Not at all. He’s kind, he’s sweet. He wears socks with skunks on them.
He surprises me, and I thought I was done feeling surprised by anyone.
When I open the door, Wesley is already turned to me, his computer screen dark. He leans back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His hands rest on his stomach, just above his belt. He smiles up at me in that easy way he’s had this last week. Is this how he smiles at all the women he’s kissed?
“Ready?” he asks.
I should be asking that. I nod and he stands, holding his hand out for me to lead the way. He follows two steps behind, like he did on our way to the meeting. I feel like the queen. But it gives me space to think, to prep, to breathe.
I stop at Richard’s closed door. Emily is gone and there are a few murmured voices from behind the offices around us. Even more so now, Richard’s request seems strategic and icky. Standing here I feel strangely vulnerable and exposed, that I was summoned by my boss, that I was scared to come, that I felt relief at Wesley’s offer to chaperone.
I spin on my heel, ready to tell him to just go, but he holds up a pen and notepad. “Don’t worry. I’ll remember to take notes.”
He says it like I’ve chided him before, for not taking notes, but I can’t remember ever doing that. Wesley blinks at me but I don’t move. I use this pause to remember to breathe, to remind myself that he is not my chaperone. He will not protect me from Richard because I don’t need protection.
He’s my support. I protect myself.
With a cursory knock, I open the door. Richard keeps reading something on his phone as we walk in, as Wesley closes the door behind us, as we stand in front of his desk. When he deigns to look up, his eyebrows jump as he takes in Wesley.
Richard glances back and forth between us. “I’m sorry. I should have stated this was a private meeting.”
Wesley shifts beside me.
“I asked him to come to take notes,” I lie. I send a silent apology to Wesley.
Richard rests his arms on the desk, leaning toward me. He drops his voice, as if Wesley won’t be able to hear him. “I think this is better left private, Corrine.”
I stand taller. “I’d like him to stay.”
He shakes his head. “Suit yourself,” he says, and a note of disappointment mixes with his trademark condescension.
“Corrine.”
He sits back in his chair, face impassive. Master of his own domain. King of his castle.
“You won’t be getting the promotion.”
My brain blanks, filled with static. “I...what?”
“You won’t be getting the promotion,” he repeats, as if hearing is what I’m having trouble with.
“But...the Grimes account?” I sound defensive, petulant. I can’t help it. I worked my ass off for that account. I glance over at Wesley. We both did.
He sits in one of the chairs in front of Richard’s desk, his hand poised over the pad of paper but not a single note taken.Good.I don’t need a record of this moment.
“Richard, I aced that presentation and we both know it. How could you come to this decision?”
He releases a belabored sigh.
“Wesley,” he says, turning to my intern. “Can you excuse us? I think this is a conversation better had in private.”
The look on his face is so smug, so superior. My molars crack trying to keep the rage-induced scream from escaping. I close my eyes for a breath, waiting for the scrape of Wesley’s chair, but when it doesn’t come I open them again. Wesley sits half turned in his seat, staring expectantly up at me. It takes me another beat to realize he’s waiting to hear what I have to say.
“It’s okay.” I gesture to the door. I just hope he doesn’t go too far.
