“What happened to you?” She looked up from her computer monitor.
“The boss man shot me down.” I pulled out her guest chair, took a seat, and I tossed my cell phone on her desk. “I met with Charles early this morning and pitched him my firewall idea. The man had zero interest. Zip! I don’t understand why he didn’t even want to hear me out. There are so many—”
“Stop.” She held her hands up. “I told you to hold off on discussing network security with him. It’s not a good time. The poor guy has his hands full with the biscotti issue. He’s pulling out all the stops to try to make the manufacturer change her mind about selling the cookies directly. It’s one of our biggest grossing items, and it will be near impossible for us to recoup the lost revenue if we lose the brand.”
“I know, but…” I couldn’t bring myself to complete my sentence. She’d probably understand, but I felt selfish and foolish to admit the real reason why I didn’t heed her advice. How could I confess my spur-of-the-moment decision to broach the topic with my boss was because my frail ego needed a boost?
“You know, when I asked what happened, I wasn’t concerned about work.” She pointed toward the orthopedic boot I wore on my right ankle. “I was asking about your new look.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my foot. “Yeah.” I frowned. “I had a little mishap at the reunion. I fell.”
She let out a small gasp.
“Yep, fortunately, I didn’t fracture my ankle, but it hurts like hell. The doctor told me to wear this beauty for the next few weeks.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” she said sympathetically. “I hope you enjoyed yourself a little bit anyway.” She reached for her coffee cup and frowned when she saw it was empty.
“No. Sydney, it was horrible!” I ran my fingers through my hair. “It was probably one of the worst nights of my life.”
“Why? Because you took a tumble?”
“No! Because of who was there and what he said to me.”
She rubbed her palms together. “Sounds juicy! Stop speaking in code and spill.”
I gave her a tentative smile. “You know the police officer who has been terrorizing me?”
“How could I forget? Especially after he didn’t exactly woo me with his charm.”
“He was at the reunion. It turns out I’ve known him since kindergarten. I just didn’t recognize him before.”
Her mouth formed anO.
I bit my lip, and I found the courage to tell her everything. “Let’s just say Officer Ennis had every reason to treat me the way he did and more.” I took a deep breath and gave my friend a play-by-play of the evening, including the car ride home.
“I can’t believe you kissed him. I’m proud of you for letting go and throwing caution to the wind.”
I buried my head in my hands. “You’re nuts! It was a colossal mistake!”
“Why?”
If I weren’t injured, I’d stand up and start pacing around her immaculate office. Instead, I began to tap my good foot on the floor in rapid succession. “I misread his signals, Syd. Of course, I didn’t expect him to forgive me for the past instantly. I know I had been mean and hurtful to him as a kid. But over thirty years passed since the first time I had called him that silly name. I honestly thought we were moving forward and forming a connection. He was very chatty. He opened up and spoke about his wife, daughter, and job.” I let out a deep sigh. “I could have easily spent the next five hours talking with him.”
“And he wasn’t hard on the eyes either,” she said knowingly.
“No.” I remembered when Sydney spotted him for the first time, a couple of months ago when we had lunch in the Japanese restaurant.
It was remarkable how anger had the power to cloud your judgment, causing you to see what you felt, not what was actually there.
“You thought he was cute in jeans, well, my friend, you should have seen him in a suit. He looked amazing, and when he showed me his scar…” I let my words trail off as I remembered the mix of emotion I had felt at the moment. “He was ripped.”And vulnerable.I swallowed hard, trying to push away my emotions. “Whatever.” I shrugged. “What I thought or felt doesn’t matter, though. Pete made his feelings crystal clear. He’s not interested in me, not that I blame him after the way I acted.”
“Waverly, you were children. It was a lifetime ago.”
“True, but I think I did a number on him. Hurt, like I caused, lasts a long time.”
“I know,” she said faintly. I knew she was thinking about her daughter. A few years ago, Sydney was so worried about her daughter being ostracized by her classmates, she allowed herself to be manipulated into joining the PTA.
“You may be jumping to conclusions,” Sydney said after a beat. “Perhaps the situation isn’t as bleak as you think. Maybe your impression of his feelings is wrong. You both had a difficult night, after all. And—”
