The machine was still rumbling when my phone rang. I smiledat the number on the screen. “Deena!” Alba said, her face popping up. She always had a big smile on her face these days, even though she looked tired. “Are you still at the office?”
“Just finishing up,” I said, which was nearly the truth.
“That new boss is taking up too much of your time,” she chided.
I smiled. “I’m working on my own stuff right now. Just using the office for the free Wi-Fi.”
“And the new boss?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t told Alba about everything that had happened lately. I knew she wouldn’t judge me for my behavior, but the thought of putting words to my experience with Cal…
How could I? I couldn’t even explain to myself why he had such an effect on me. How would I explain to my friend that from the moment I saw him, it felt like the nexus of my world had changed? And the more I tried to deny it, the stronger the pull became.
It made no sense.
Instead of opening up that can of worms, I changed the subject. “How’s Adam?” Her son was just over five months, and he was the cutest little thing I’d ever seen.
“Asleep,” she said. Her eyes were sparkling, joy suffusing all her features. “He sat on his own today, and he kept giggling every time he did. Then he’d fall over from the giggles.”
I laughed and wondered if Ididwant what Alba had. She’d gone through hell to get there, but now she seemed to be embracing the quiet life at home.
How would it feel to let go of this driving need to be independent? To lean on someone else when I needed support instead of always feeling like I had to handle everything on my own?
But if I leaned on someone else, how could I be sure itwouldn’t be a trap? How would I go back to being on my own when it inevitably crumbled?
Finally, when I’d nearly finished my second coffee, I told her I had to go. I had work to do, and then I needed to make it home before I collapsed. Coffee hadn’t made a dent in my fatigue, but it had caused a sour tightness to grip my middle. I shouldn’t have had so much of it on an empty stomach. I shuffled back to my office—and I stopped short.
On my desk, a container of takeout from the place at the bottom of the building sat waiting for me, utensils placed beside it. I crept closer and saw a Post-It from Cal. It said only one word, scratched out in his tightly controlled, angular handwriting:
Eat.
It was the private jet all over again. Except this time, instead of feeling resentful at being coddled, I found myself appreciating it. I opened the takeout container and found chicken and pesto pasta salad. It smelled unbelievably delicious. Sinking into my desk chair, I wolfed it down and tried not to think about how much I appreciated the gesture.
TWENTY
DEENA
The pasta saladwas only the first of the meals Cal had sent to my office. From that evening on, every day at noon on the dot, a delivery guy brought something for me to eat. After three days of it, I marched into my boss’s office.
“Cal,” I snapped, closing the door behind me as I glared at him. To my right, the wall was almost fully decorated with Lila’s drawings, all framed professionally and displayed like priceless pieces of art. I forced myself not to look at them, because they might make me think he had some redeeming qualities. He did not.
Cal leaned back in his chair and watched me with pale blue eyes. “Yes, Deena?”
“I don’t need you to feed me,” I said through clenched teeth, lifting the six-inch thick roast beef sandwich that had been delivered today. It looked amazing, but this was getting ridiculous.
“But you do need to be fed,” Cal replied.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re clearly not eating when left to your own devices, Deena.”
“And that’smyproblem.”
Unperturbed, Cal spread his hands in what I thought was surrender. Until the next day, when another gourmet sandwich landed on my desk. Prosciutto, avocado, and roasted vegetable. My mouth watered, but enough was enough.
Erica and Lila happened to be walking by when I grabbed the sandwich, intending to throw it at Cal’s head. His sister looked at me, her brows raised as her gaze dipped to the soon-to-be-projectile gripped in my hands. “Everything okay?”
Lila blinked up at me, a fresh drawing gripped between her fingers. Another addition to the growing gallery wall in Cal’s office.
