“My friend... Jennifer...” she says, forcing the name out. It’s so obvious she has made this identity up on the spot. “My friend Jennifer had a sexy rendezvous with a very attractive, funny, smart, single man.” The crowd giggles and whoops. “And now she is so obviously into him but is making excuses to get in the way of her own happiness.”
I cringe, slinking down in my seat and trying to pull Cecily’s sleeve to drag her back into her seat. “Are you serious right now?” I mumble through my gritted teeth.
She clears her throat as she tugs her arm out of my grip. “What advice would you have for... Jennifer? How do you think I can advise her to make the right decision?”
Dr. Bernie, to her credit, takes the question as seriously as all the others. “If you believe your friend is getting in the way of her own happiness, perhaps they need to address the underlying reasons why. If this man is as amazing as you claim he is, she is clearly protecting her heart from something deeper. Perhaps...” I swear for a second Dr. Bernie’s eyes meet mine. “Perhaps yourfriendneeds to look inward and address the issues she has surrounding romantic intimacy before she can let someone new into her life.”
“And how would she go about... addressing that?” Cecily shifts her weight onto her other foot, and the microphone flops to one side. It’s crazy to see someone so at ease with everyone staring right at her.
I close my eyes as they start to sting. The buildup over the past few weeks settling on my chest like an anvil.
The whole crowd hungry for her next words, Dr. Bernie considers in silence before responding, “Besides talking to aprofessional, being upfront and discussing the issues with a potential romantic partnerbeforepursuing the physical relationship would be my best advice.”
My disappointment on full display, I stare at my hands and imagine the catch-22 I’ve gift wrapped and delivered to my own doorstep like a flaming bag of poop. I can’t talk to Oliverbeforehandbecause: shower. And I can’t do it after because I’m in the middle of hiding my identity from him and most of the tech world.
“But specifically for your friend, I would suggest talking to a professional about these issues. Perhaps avoiding pursuing anything emotionally serious until she has learned to understand and accept these feelings, instead of denying them.”
The idea of talking to a stranger about this makes my skin crawl. Last time I spoke to a stranger about my problems, it culminated with me at a conference room table with a bunch of lawyers negotiating how much money my mental and emotional state was worth.
As the questions from the crowd continue, I plunge deeper into my seat, melting into the floor as the embarrassment consumes me whole.
Chapter 14
Business Account (WYST) BALANCE: £2,841.21
Personal Account BALANCE: -£1,050.60
Recent transactions:
London to Paris Eurostar tickets: £387.00
Wyatt Hotel Paris: £468.29
The morning of our train to Paris started in boxes. I emailed my landlord when I got home from the Dr. Bernie town hall and realized that maintaining a residence was one of my biggest monthly outgoings. If I didn’t have to pay rent, I wouldn’t have to pay myself a salary. And I have a perfectly good sofa in the conference room of the office, as well as storage space for my stuff. What I did not anticipate was my landlord being so keen on the idea, he emailed saying he would cut my contract short and waive any admin fees if I could be out by the end of the week. Being in Paris for most of this week, I spent the majority of the past twenty-four hours packing up my effects and transferring them via a minivan cab into the office.
As my boots echo across the concourse of St. Pancras Eurostar, my phone starts buzzing for the third time in a row.
I sigh, picking up my backpack and throwing it over my sore shoulder before finally clicking Accept Call. “Hey, Mum.”
“Hi, Jess, are you with Spencer?”
“Not right now, no.” I glance at my watch—if he hasn’t arrived at the station yet, he’s going to miss the train. “How are you?”
A loud exhalation runs like static down the phone. “Things have been simply awful. Our neighbors just planted cherry blossom trees in their front garden, the petals are everywhere, and they go all mushy and sticky and stained the driveway. Your father is livid.”
“Wow, thatdoessound awful,” I say, trying my best to humor her as I continue to scan the crowd of travelers for Spencer.
She pauses for a few seconds before saying, “Well, there’s no need to be sarcastic is there?”
“I wasn’t. I’m genuinely upset on your behalf. That is awful of your neighbors down the road to plant a tree without discussing it with you first.” In my defense, it’s difficult to not sound sarcastic when you’re humoring a ridiculous person.
Mum and Dad have always been dramatic; I guess that’s where Spencer (and admittedly, sometimes me) gets it from.
“So, ummm... why are you calling? I’m a little busy right now,” I say, pacing back and forth in front of security in case Spencer arrives.
A tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair brushes past me, and for a second I think it’s Oliver until the man turns to the side and reveals a smaller nose and less defined jaw. My fingers have been tingling at the urge to look him up online again, to waste an hour going full girlie research mode and finding more traces of his internet presence.
I shouldn’t care. But knowing he’s going to be in the same place as me today sends a charge up my spine, hitting a nerve I thought long dead.It’s just because he’s hot, I reason. But I can’t get over the way he accurately assessed me, the way he couldn’t have known how I was feeling about Spencer, TechRumble, and the chaos of keeping up this facade but completely understood how it affected me. I hate to admit it to myself, but I’m excited at the possibility of seeing him again. I’ve been on tenterhooks imagining I might see him on the Eurostar and play out aBefore Sunsetscenario.
