Rolling my eyes, I point to the can in her hands. “Put that damn thing away before we both end up in the emergency room. I swear I’m not sick. I’m just… distracted,” I admit but refuse to say by what.
”Oh…” Laura still eyes me suspiciously.
”I’m not going home.” My tone is firm and to the point. “And I will also take the hours you offered me for this weekend. Very kind of you, thank you.”
”Uh, I only said that because…”
Emotion crashes into me like never before. I hate to beg, but I can’t afford life anymore, and this is my only option.
”Please,” I say. “I need it.”
Laura stares at me for a few moments, the can of Lysol still at the ready even though she now knows that it’s not needed. She opens her mouth a couple of times, like she’s preparing to let me down, but then something happens, and she changes her mind.
”I will add you to the schedule.” She puts the can away and turns on her heels. “I can’t have people thinking they can just ask for hours and they’ll get them. If anyone comments about it, I asked you to come in, not the other way around. Got it?”
”Yes, ma’am,” I call after her, a smile lacing my tone.
”Don’t freakin’ call mema’am,” she yells back with an attitude, and now I’m laughing. “Get back to work!”
I follow her back to where all cubicles are located. A few people eye me funny, so I raise my hands in apology.“I’m not sick,” I assure them. “Get back to work!”
Since I am their lead on the floor, they listen and go back to whatever they were doing. Feeling more confident, I march to my cubicle and sit down. I grab the headset with abrupt moves and stick it over my hair, almost stabbing myself with the sharp end.
I bring my computer back to life, ready to get back to answering the phone on an endless loop. I am just about to take my desk phone off the do-not-disturb button, when my cell buzzes in my pocket.
We are not typically allowed to be on our personal phones while working, so I carefully slide the cell out and check the screen. It says that I have a new message from theHolidatesapp. I hold my breath as I log in to read it.
A big smile spreads over my face when I see that it is a reply from the Boston guy.
Mona,
Confirming that all expenses related to your potential trip to Boston would be paid by me. There wouldn’t be anything out of pocket for you. In addition, I am available for the Christmas charity event you need a date for.
Reply with confirmation that this is a go, then we can hammer down the details.
Jonathan
The message is straight and to the point, very business-like. It is exactly what I need, so I hurry up and respond to him before I can change my mind, or, worse yet,hechanges his mind.
I am just about to log off when I notice that I have another new message in myHolidatesinbox. The name I see there makes me roll my eyes. Julian Lewis.
Mona,
My apologies for the late reply. I’ve had a lot going on lately. I would love it if you still wanted to meet. You are exactly who I’ve been searching for, and I would be so disappointed if things between us didn’t work out.
Sincerely,
Julian
This message strikes me as odd. It’s worded like we are in a relationship of sorts, and he wants to take it to the next level. What is the next level in fake dating?
Not to mention, we haven’t even gotten to the fake dating part since he ditched me on the one time we were supposed to meet. That led to Alex basically sliding into his spot, buying me dinner and acting like I was on a date with him. The follow-up to that was him showing up at my door two days later, with the most delicious chocolate cake in existence, and also his delicious body.
Nothing good came out of that other than the mind-blowing orgasms we gave to each other.
Julian Lewis is bad news, and I’m glad I have a backup.
SIXTEEN
