Now I feel bad. Notbadbad, but enough to be done with the accusations.
Pushing the manuscript across the desk, I say, "Tell your friend nobody wants to read that many adverbs and alliteration in the same sentence. The exposition was boring and redundant. Large blocks of text are mentally exhausting for a reader."
Sally frowns. "There is no way you read the entire book."
"Didn't have to. Your friend didn't magically become a better writer on page five."
Her frown deepens. She takes the manuscript, arms dipping with the weight before hauling it up and tucking it into her chest. "You're arrogant."
"Whatever gets the job done," I respond, already turning my attention to my computer screen.
Sally doesn't stomp from my office, because that's not her style, but she mumbles on her way out, something that sounds likeI feel sorry for any woman dumb enough to date you.
The door closes behind her, and I run a hand over my forehead. I shouldn't allow the opinion of a twenty-three-year-old to bother me, but her comment lands, settling somewhere near my solar plexus.
No matter how many times I tell myself the story I've made up for Cecily, I'm tender. Not for any deep, dark reason other than our connection felt instantaneous and rare, something I would've fought for if given the chance. Cecily got under my skin. The work I've done to pigeonhole her actions that day, and her motivations behind them, was for nothing because I've ended up right where I was at the beginning.
Angry.
And,ok fine, hurt, too.
My phone dings with a text message from Klein.
Klein: Vegas, baby.
Dominic: I'm listening.
Klein: Joint bachelor and bachelorette parties.
Dominic: Is that wise?
Klein: Anything else would be unwise.
Dominic: Fair point. Tell me more.
Klein: I'll send you the info. Just be available in a month.
Dominic: You, me, and Paisley?
Klein: No, jackass. A group.
I flop back in my desk chair, pinching my lower lip as I re-read Klein's text.
A group? Will that group include Cecily? I have to imagine it will. She might be Paisley's employee, but from what I understand, they're good friends, too.
I can't ask, because Klein is annoyingly perceptive. He'll want to know why I want to know. And then it will be a whole thing. It does not need to be a whole thing. It doesn't need to be a fraction of a thing. It is, in fact, a non-issue. I can be around Cecily and not demand to know why she ghosted me mid-date.
Dominic: Cool. I'm available.
Klein: We're all wearing dumb shirts to the pool. I already ordered them, so you can't say no. Yours will be there before you leave.
I'm already bobbing my head in anticipation, drumming my fingers on my desk. I haven't taken a proper vacation in three years, I'm embarrassed to say. A quick trip here and there, usually home to visit my parents and Klein, though probably not as often as I should. It's a long flight from New York City to Phoenix, especially when it's only for a weekend.
Another text comes in from Klein, delivering dates and times. Before I can forget, I shoot an email to my boss, Dee, letting her know I'll be taking a few days off. I'm tacking on some time in Phoenix to see my parents after the weekend in Vegas, since I'll be close by. I reserve a hotel room, then spend twenty minutes searching for the best deal on flights, book those also, andbadabingmy day is looking up. Dopamine floods my system, as if I'm already walking the casino floor.
Whiny, entitled benefactor of nepotism sneaking a steaming pile of literary muck on my desk?Gone.
Stunningly beautiful and charming woman performs a vanishing act mid-date, and now I'll be subjected to her presence?No sweat.
