Page 11 of Man Flu

I head into my office, still chuckling at his words. “By the way, your appointment with Veggie Squeeze is at noon. I reserved conference room two for you since the walls seem to be soundproof in there, and I’ve managed to set up another meeting for you during the upcoming expo with GoGo Toys.”

I place my coffee down on my desk and walk back out into the corridor between my door and his cube. “You booked GoGo Toys?”

“Yeah, the sales rep seemed eager.”

“Holy shit.” I press my fingers into the sides of my face. “I’ve been trying to book an appointment with them for a year—. You know, I didn’t see any sales experience on your resume—”

“I like to talk,” he says with a grin. Don’t smile at me. You’re making me lose my train of thought.

“You’re amazing.” I shouldn’t have said that. Crap. Wow. Really? “I mean, keep it up, and uh, keep your calendar clear because you’re joining me in today’s sales meeting.”

“Hannah,” Brielle’s voice sings from down the hall. “I saw your car. I know you’re here.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” I announce.

“You’re not going to believe what happened after you left yesterday,” she continues.

I have a feeling she’s going to mention GoGo Toys and might not expect Logan to be here a half hour before work starts, but I’ll let it play out.

“I’m sure I won’t,” I continue as I hear her bag drop in her cubicle.

“Logan, holy hottie, first. Second, he freaking snagged you a meeting with GoGo Toys.”

There we go. Now I get to see Brielle become mortified as she realizes that Logan is here, listening to her. As a matter of fact, I can see into his cube, and he’s smirking, but professionally, still maintains his focus on whatever he’s looking at.

Brielle’s heels scuffle against the carpet as she makes her way over to my office, where she notices Logan. She stops short between his cubicle and my office, then slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my Blahniks, you heard that?”

“Heard what?” Logan plays along.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Brielle says, trying to pull it off, but she’s not hitting that mark as she spins around in a circle like a dog and twirls her hair around her finger. Smooth, real smooth.

Brielle makes her way into my office, beet red, and closes the door. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that,” she says.

“Happens to the best of us,” I remind her.

Brielle plops down in my guest chair and presses her elbows into her thighs as she leans forward. “Why do you think he’s here, of all places, after playing for a Major-League Baseball team? Wouldn’t you think he’d be loaded?”

I guess that thought didn’t cross my mind, but it’s an interesting question. It makes me wonder what his story is, but I shouldn’t care about his story. I’m his boss, and if he performs, I’ll be happy. “Who knows? I don’t know how all that stuff works. Maybe he broke a contract or something.”

“I just can’t believe he got GoGo Toys. It was his first call to them too. We’ve been trying to get them for like a year. Way to go, Mr. Batman, right?”

I lean back in my chair and cross one leg over the other. “Yes, it’s pretty incredible.” Brielle likes to talk, which voids my extra work time when I make it in early.

“You aren’t going to fire me now that you have the dream temp, are you?” she asks.

Ah, that’s why she’s early. “You are my administrative assistant, and Batman is a temp for the marketing portion of the new magazine segment. You’re safe, Brielle,” I ease her concern with a smile. I need to try and stop sounding like such an old hag. I used to have spunk, joy, and a chipper demeanor when I talked to others. I actually saw myself as “cool,” but even the word “cool” really goes to show how much I’ve aged this year. I even saw a gray hair the other day, and while I pulled it out, I sort of had a moment where I felt like my life was beginning to show the other side of that hill everyone talks about.

“So,” Brielle says, starting the next segment of Brielle Tells All. “Adam and I had the talk last night.”

The talk. The talk as in … he’s finally going to pop the question, or did she finally ask him if he was cheating? I shouldn’t find it mildly confusing that the two conversations go together.

I keep my focus on my emails, scanning for important information as she continues to fill my head with her Adam drama. I love Brielle and her stories, but they’re endless sometimes, so I try to multitask. That, and the topic of cheating still causes a pain in my stomach.

When I found out Rick cheated on me, I didn’t sit on the idea of staying with him for weeks and months on end. I made a split decision that moment I walked in on Tiana’s perfectly toned and tanned ass in the air and told him I wanted a divorce, which was kind of like stabbing a knife through the fake topping of our wedding cake. Our marriage revolved around his career, and I sat in his shadow, celebrating every raise and bonus, praising his every great review, while constantly being understanding of his early hours and late nights. I never actually said, “What about me?” But it’s all I felt for most of our relationship. Everything about us seemed fake.

Divorce was the key to my freedom. Who would have thought? I’ve considered getting back on the saddle, and I’ve tried it with a few Tinder dates, but nothing feels right, so I stick with single-hood. “What do you think?” Brielle asks.

Shit. I didn’t hear a word of what she said. “Well, what did you say to him?”