So I do my best to act as normal as possible. “Good morning, Alison.”
“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Good morning, Mr. Schilling.”
“Mr. Schilling? That’s very formal. Does that mean I need to call you Ms. Kirby?”
She laughs a little. “No. Of course not.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice her moving from foot to foot like she can’t wait to get the hell out of the room. But we’re in a quandary. She’s standing in the doorway, so for me to leave, I’d have to get close to her. Since she’s not making a move to enter, I’ll need to take charge. “If you’d like to step farther into the room, Ms. Kirby, maybe to the sink, then I’ll step around this table”—I point to the table to my left—“and out so you can use the room.”
“Oh.” Alison’s face flushes a deep pink shade. “That’s not necessary.” She moves to her left, creating an opening for me to exit.
Just as I’m passing her, she makes a noise. One that catches my attention.
Stopping in my tracks, I turn my head. When our eyes meet, I feel a weird sort of sensation in my chest. This is the closest I’ve been to her since the day she elbowed me. Even then, I didn’t get a good look at her face. From afar, the woman is gorgeous, but from a foot away, that face of hers… those clear blue eyes, pert little nose, and rosebud lips are awe-inspiring. I want to lean in, to get as close as humanly possible, but I force myself to hold my ground.
She’s scared of me.
Remembering that, I ask softly, “Yes?”
“Um, would you have time to meet with me today?”
“Sure. What time?” I don’t believe I have any meetings today, but if I do, I’ll cancel them for her. And not because Graham commanded it.
“Well….” She’s doing that thing again with her feet. I half expect her to make a mad dash out of the room any second.
I take over. “What if we meet in the deli down on the first floor? There will be a lot of people around, but we should still be able to talk with minimal interruptions.” Sure, I brought my lunch today, but I can eat it tomorrow. PB&J sandwiches last two days, right?
“No.” She shakes her head. “That’s not necessary.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to have Clive in the room. Perhaps someone else?” I’m doing my best to accommodate the woman. “Meghan Lincoln?”
“No.” She shakes her head again. Then she nods, muttering, “Yes.”
I’m getting confused.
Alison finally speaks more than one word. “Let’s meet at the deli on the first floor. Twelve thirty?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”
I step out the door and fight the acidic feeling in my stomach. That exchange was painful. But the other part? The one where I get to have lunch with her? That one makes me smile.
* * *
“Um,thank you for meeting me here.”
With my tray in hand, I sit at the small round table she’s selected, the one in the back corner of the deli. Her back is to the wall so she’s able to see everyone in the shop. Placing my food down, I pull my chair out and sit. While I know this is technically a meeting, I’m starving, so I proceed to place my napkin in my lap, then unwrap my twelve-inch turkey club sandwich. I know, I’m in New York, so I should be eating pastrami, but it’s not my favorite. Plus, I’ve got a thing about fresh breath, and pastrami is not breath friendly. I open up my other food, sides which include coleslaw, potato salad, and potato chips. As a treat, I grabbed a slice of cheesecake. After the events from last night, a treat is warranted.
Picking up my sub, I’m about to take a huge bite when I see her staring. “What?”
I think I’m seeing things when she places her dainty little hand over her mouth and starts to giggle.
That’s what I said. She. Giggled.
I start to chuckle as well. I still don’t know what’s funny, but it doesn’t matter. “What?”
She quickly stops herself, but at least she answers me. “That’s a lot of food.”
I shrug. “I’m hungry.” Then I think better of it. Setting the sandwich back down, I ask, “Is that okay? Would you rather just talk? I can take this to go.”
