My entire bodyshuddered at her joke. “Oh my god, that’s so gross. That man is a lawsuitwaiting to happen.”
She turnedserious again. “Wait, he hasn’t tried to—”
I quickly shook myhead. I didn’t know why I was so worried about her thinking the wrong thing. Ifhe’d tried anything again with me, it would be his fault not mine. So why was Iso worried about people thinking the wrong thing? I was the innocent person inthis whole debacle. He was the assailant. I shouldn’t even want to stick up forhim. Still, I said, “No, he hasn’t tried to touch me again, since I emailedDoris. But he’s always undressing me with his eyes and staring at my chest. Hemight not be touching me, but whatever he is doing is just as bad.”
“I can’t believethis hasn’t gotten back to his dad. Mr. Tucker would shut that shit down sofast.”
“You think?” Forsome reason, I wasn’t so sure.
“For the sake ofhis business,” Emily nodded as she went on. “He doesn’t want a lawsuit or a badreputation just because his son is a pervert.”
That was true. Evenif Mr. Tucker didn’t believe everything I had to say, surely he would step injust to avoid legal action. Sexual harassment wasn’t a small thing and Henrywas set up to take over the entire company in a few years. Maybe I shouldrevisit going over HR’s head.
My phone dingedwhen we got off the elevator, so I pulled it out of my purse on my way to mycar. “See you tomorrow,Em.”
“Later, babe,” shecalled back.
I threw my laptopin the back and settled into the driver’s seat with my phone in hand. An emailhad popped up and I almost didn’t check it because I was sure that it was Henrygiving me shit for the work I’d just uploaded.
It wasn’t Henrythough. It was Ezra. And the subject read: Hey.
Not able to containmy curiosity, I opened the email against my better judgment.
Call me when you get a minute.
~Ezra
I drove home first,not wanting to seem super available. Plus, the parking garage got terriblereception. Plus, plus, I had to talk myself into it and work myself up and findsome courage in my terrified little soul to push the buttons.
When I got home, Ichanged into leggings and settled on my couch with a salad I picked up on theway home. Then I called Ezra.
For a second Ididn’t think he was going to answer. The phone rang just long enough that Iprepared myself to hang up before it asked for a message.
But then heanswered, his voice clear, deep and tender. “Molly.”
God, why couldn’the just say hello like a normal person? It would be so much easier on myflailing heart. “Hi, Ezra.”
“I didn’t want tointerrupt you at work.”
“I just got home.”
“Are you coming into paint tonight?” There was something in his voice that sounded like hope andit did damaging things to my resolve to keep my distance.
“I am not,” I toldhim trying not to sound disappointed. “I didn’t want to interrupt your dinnerservice.”
“Oh, well, when doyou think you’ll be in again?”
Was this all hewanted to talk about? When I would be back to paint his mural? I was lessnervous now. “Saturday morning, I think.”
“Well, damn. I havea thing Saturday so I won’t be there.”
I hadn’t realizedhe needed to be there. “Is it okay that I still come in if you’re not there?”
“It’s fine,” heassured me, that smooth, rich voice of his chasing me through the phone.“Bianca is yours for as long as you need her. Come in whenever you’d like. Ijust haven’t seen you all week.”
His disappointmentcame out of nowhere, kicking me right in the butterflies. “Oh.”
“So I think weshould fix that,” he continued. “Are you free Sunday night?”
