by Parker, Ali
I jammed a pink tassel hat down on my head and stuck my hands into the pockets of my cerise pink coat, tucking my chin into my scarf as I kept my head down on my way to the parking garage where I left my car every day.
After I got back home from the night before, I had tossed and turned in my bed for hours before I finally fell asleep. I was exhausted, and yet still riled up.
Layton hadn’t shown up for work this morning. Apparently he spent the day out visiting sites, which meant I hadn’t seen him at all after we slept together.
As much as I wanted to believe his absence from the office was completely unrelated to what had happened between us, I had a gnawing feeling in my gut that it may have been exactly what it was about. I promised him I wouldn’t regret it, and I always kept my promises, but I was starting to struggle with this one.
When I left his office, I was sure things would be fine between us, but now I was starting to feel like I’d ruined things somehow. I’d hoped to see him at the staff meeting this morning, and gauge whether he was still fine with everything that happened. Despite my tossing and turning in bed, I was sure our momentary lapse of inhibitions and professionalism wouldn’t have changed anything between us.
We were two consenting adults, both of whom had needs we wanted the other to fulfill. That was all there was to it.
After he didn’t show up to the office, however, my confidence started wavering. Hour after hour, I waited for him to return. To catch a glimpse of his tailored suit or to hear his voice carrying down the hall. None of those things happened.
Once my confidence started wavering, there was nothing I could do to stop it from taking a complete nosedive. By the time I could clock out for the day, I felt like I was walking on eggshells. I jumped every time someone came into my office, afraid they were there to tell me the boss no longer required my services.
Fear flowed unchecked through my veins as I started my car and headed home, in for a very long weekend of wondering what fate awaited me when I arrived back at the office on Monday. Deep down, I thought I was probably being silly.
We were both totally into what happened, even if it probably shouldn’t have. Even so, I didn’t think he was such a petty man that he would fire me because I kissed him back after he kissed me first. It wasn’t like I’d made a move on him or subjected him to unwanted advances. I had to believe that counted for something and that I wouldn’t get fired over this.
All day, I had tried to convince myself to listen to the part of me deep down inside that didn’t believe I was really in trouble. But logically, I knew there was a very real possibility I could be. The fact that Layton hadn’t come in to the office at all was like a blaring alarm going off in my head.
Site visits weren’t uncommon for him. I asked a round a bit, pretending to be the daft-ish new girl trying to learn about how the company worked. One co-worker after another told me he often visited the sites, but one mentioned he couldn’t remember the last time the boss man had been out all day.
It took only that one comment to unravel the hope building in my chest that his absence had nothing to do with me. It was too much of a coincidence that the first day in forever he hadn’t shown up at the office at all was the day after he took me up against the wall of the very office he was now avoiding.
As I made my way home, sitting in traffic snaking down the street after work, I wrapped my hands around the leather steering wheel of my car and willed myself to let it go.
Worrying all weekend was useless. At best, I would only drive myself crazy. At worst, Annie picked up on my angst and spent her own weekend terrified. I couldn’t risk that happening. It was my job to protect her from the bad stuff, at least for now.
The day would come when she had to face some of her own bad stuff. Heck, it was already happening every now and again. I wouldn’t place a burden this heavy on her little shoulders. There was no way she could know that I made a mistake which could possibly cost me my job.
Especially since it was such a cliché, as stupid mistakes go. Girl meets boy, girl wants boy, boy wants girl. Girl and boy give in and girl’s life is ruined. Fun times.
I sighed as I pulled up in my driveway, the sun just starting to set in the distance. The orange ball was obscured by clouds, the gray and gloomy day clearly not quite over yet. Where I should have been able to see the sun was only an orange glow behind all those clouds.
In that instant, I squared my shoulders and took a deep, rejuvenating breath. I was going to be like that sun. Clouds might obscure me, but they could never take away my light entirely.
My light, my reason for living, was waiting for me inside the house. I would buck up, go inside, spend some time with my girl, possibly vent to Denise a little later, and take whatever consequences were coming my way.
No regrets. I made the promise and I was going to do my damn well best to keep it, at least until I absolutely knew without a doubt that I really had ruined everything.
Annie and Denise were in the kitchen nibbling on a tray of freshly baked cookies that sat between them. It smelled divine in the house, like chocolate, butter and home.
“My kingdom for a cookie!” I proclaimed dramatically, hanging my scarf and coat over one of the kitchen stools.
Annie laughed, holding out her arms for a hug. I swept her up, spinning her around as I kissed the top of her head. Denise shook her head at us, but giggled as she held up one of their creations. “You don’t need to give us your kingdom for one, but I do want to hear all about your day later on.”
As always, my bravado hadn’t fooled Denise. She saw right through my ‘buck up and believe it will be alright’ facade. Setting Annie back down, I swiped the cookie and nodded to Denise. “Fine, but later.”
Casting a sidelong glance at Annie, she inclined her head and picked up the tray, wagging her finger at us. “Right then, no more cookies for either of you. You’ll spoil your dinner.”
“Yes Mom,” I teased, thankful she was willing to let me off the hook. For now, anyway. “Speaking of dinner, I’m thinking we should treat ourselves since its Friday. Who has any ideas?”
Annie clapped her hands, hopping on her stool. “Me, mommy! I have an idea. Pizza, pizza, pizza.”
Denise nodded her agreement enthusiastically. “I’m always down for pizza. Extra cheese for me, please.”
Giving them a mock little bow, I fished my phone out of the pocket of my coat to place our order. “Your wish-es are my command. Pizza it is.”
Annie, Denise and I ate on the living room floor, talking while trying to watch a ‘family-watch-together’ movie recommendation on Netflix. It was a sweet story about a regular girl and a prince falling in love. After overcoming trials and tribulations, the pair finally got their happily ever after.
It was a feel-good movie, but it wasn’t having the desired effect on me. Every time the two kissed, I cringed as my memories of the last kiss I’d shared with someone replayed in my mind.
Denise noticed my behavior and as soon as Annie was in bed, she grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Merlot, setting it down on the coffee table between us with a low thud. “Spill, girlfriend. Last night you came home positively giddy and tonight you look like someone served you sorbet instead of ice cream. What gives?”
Lifting my glass from the table, I took a big gulp of wine and decided it was best to give it to her straight. “I slept with Layton last night. Well, not slept, actually.”
She blinked, her jaw dropping open in shock when she made sense of my words. “Layton as in Layton Bridges. Your boss?”
I nodded, heat creeping into my cheeks. “I know, I know. It was stupid, but it’s done.”
She raised her brows, motioning for me to continue. “Okay, before we get to the serious part about why you look like you do today, tell me about last night. He must have done something right to make you look the way you did when you got home. And don’t think you can spare the juicy details.”
“I wouldn’t dream of sparing anything,” I
told her solemnly, winking before I launched into a story that now seemed made up to me. “All I’d wanted when I walked into his office was a couple of minutes of company, to find out why he was there so late. I never in my wildest, dirtiest dreams would’ve been able to come up with a scenario like that.”
“You’re telling me,” she said plainly, her eyes wide. “As hot as it sounds, and it sounds like it was seriously hot, what are you going to do now?”
“That’s the—crud.” Before I could complete my sentence, I was interrupted by my phone buzzing on the coffee table. It skittered across the surface in rhythmic bursts that drew both of our attention at the same time. Our eyes seemed to reach the screen at the same time too, and the name displayed there caused my heart to beat faster while Denise’s eyes grew even wider.
“Answer it,” she mouthed.
I nodded, my throat suddenly drier than the Sahara desert. Swallowing to try to get some moisture into my mouth, I pressed the phone to my ear. “Mr. Bridges? I mean, Layton? Is everything okay? It’s kind of late to be calling.”
“Is it?” He sounded genuinely surprised. There was a momentary pause before he said, “Oh, well it’s only eight-thirty, but I can call back in the morning if you’d prefer.”
“No, no need,” I all but stammered. “It’s just I, uh, I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”
“That makes two of us,” he mused, but his voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure I was supposed to have heard the comment. Volume returning to normal, he asked, “How are you? Are you okay?”
My brow furrowed, my eyes narrowing as I tried to work out what the hell was happening right now. “I’m fine, thanks. Why? Shouldn’t I be?”
“Isn’t it a customary when calling someone to ask how they are?” Aaaand the dick was back. But not for long, it seemed. “I’m sorry, Marissa. Forgive me, it’s been a long day.”
Yeah, he was telling me. “That’s okay. How are you?”
“Great,” he said, though he responded to quickly for me to believe him. “Listen, I’m calling because I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow night. There are some things we need to talk about.”
Denise, able to hear Layton in the silence of the living room, nodded wildly at me, whispering, “You need to fix this. Say yes.”
“Sure,” I said, because both Denise and Layton were absolutely right. We did need to talk about things, and I did need to fix this. I only hoped he would give me the chance to fix it, and that dinner wasn’t just to tell me my employment wasn’t working out. Fighting to keep my voice even, I agreed. “What time did you have in mind?”
Chapter 15
Layton
Getting dressed for dinner with Marissa was more nerve racking than it should have been. I stood in front of my closet, staring at rows of neatly hung suits. They were ordered by how recently I’d worn them, and by color, though they were only gray and black.
I liked rotating them, making sure none got more wear than any other. Once they started looking worn, I replaced them. I couldn’t stand the thought of a frayed or discolored collar.
The rotation also made it simpler for me to get dressed every morning. I never had to decide on what to wear, the next option was already ready for me. Right there, hanging on the opposite side from where the freshly laundered ones were.
Suits hung on one side of my walk-in closet, shirts on the other. There was a little more choice for color on the shirt rail, but not by much.
All of these things meant dressing for dinner should have been a no brainer, but it wasn’t. Shrugging out of a white button up shirt, I hung it back up and opted for a blue one instead. You’re being ridiculous.
My subconscious was right. I was being ridiculous. This was it, the blue shirt was staying on. Before I could change my mind again, I turned my back on the shirt rail and grabbed a tie from my rack. It was a shade darker than the shirt and went nicely with the gray suit I’d eventually settled on.
Not wanting to repeat the process of second guessing my choice, I fastened the tie in a classic Windsor knot and walked back into my bedroom. Opting for the pair of silver cufflinks on my dresser, I refused to even consider another pair.
I was drawing the line at thirty minutes of trying to get dressed. Any longer and I would have to beat something up later to reclaim my masculinity. With a final look in the mirror, I smoothed and straightened my already straight tie before striding out the door.
On my way out of the apartment, I found myself repeating the motion of straightening my tie more often than I cared to admit. It was a nervous habit I didn’t indulge in as often as my tapping. Why the hell was I so nervous?
I’d already slept with the woman, so it wasn’t like I had to worry about how to seal the deal or anything. Not that I had anything of the sort planned for the evening.
Catching myself halfway to straightening my tie again, I reached out and tapped my kitchen counter instead. Then I grabbed my keys and went to meet Marissa.
The restaurant I chose for our dinner was a smaller, intimate place on the rooftop of a hotel downtown. They served new French cuisine and inventive cocktails. Traditional white starched tablecloths hung over square wooden tables, spaced far enough apart to provide a modicum of privacy, while being close enough so they didn’t feel awkwardly spaced.
Dim, low hanging lights paired with flickering candles on the tables cast the rectangular dining room in a warm glow. Marissa was already waiting when I got there, sitting at a table near the back corner.
She stood up when she saw me enter, looking ravishing in a flowing floor length gown of blood red with a low neckline. It dipped down to her cleavage, but only enough to hint at the beautiful soft globes I hadn’t gotten round to feasting on like I’d wanted to.
Her golden curls shone like a halo around her head, hanging loose around her shoulders. Even from across the room, I noticed her makeup was more smoky than usual. It accentuated her wide blue eyes, though I couldn’t make out the color from where I was.
Thin golden bangles sparkled on her wrists, and strands of similar necklaces were hanging below her collarbones. All in all, it didn’t look like I was the only one who’d taken some time to get dressed for dinner.
In Marissa’s case, the effort had paid off big time. She looked stunning, then even more breathtaking when her full lips curved into a smile as I approached our table. “Layton, hello.”
Her voice was softer than I was used to from her. Almost shy. I leaned in, pressing my lips to her cheek. As I breathed in, I was enveloped by a richer scent than those she wore to the office. More musky, but still intoxicating. “Marissa, you look gorgeous.”
Pink tinged her cheeks before her smile turned coy. “You’re not so bad, yourself.”
As we settled into our seats, a waiter broke the brief awkwardness by coming to see if we wanted drinks. I ordered a bottle of wine and one of water, waiting for the waiter to walk away before meeting Marissa’s eyes.
“So, how are you doing with everything? Really.”
She averted her eyes momentarily, but then seemed to think better of it and raised them back to mine. There was a determination in her gaze, along with a strange apprehension I couldn’t quite place. “I’m good, but are you? You didn’t come to work yesterday.”
I wondered if she would even have noticed my absence. Strangely it felt kind of good that she had. “I had to visit a couple of our sites. I like keeping my finger on the pulse, and seeing the designs come to life.”
I didn’t know why I’d added that last sentence. It was out before I could even think much about it, much less stop it. Somehow, I’d felt compelled to add it. It was true, even if the site visits yesterday had largely been more about avoiding any post-sex awkwardness between us.
The waiter delivered our drinks, filled our water glasses and took our food order. Marissa leaned forward, tilting her head slightly as she visibly relaxed. “I heard you liked visiting the sites, now I know why. I get it, though. The app
eal of seeing what you dreamed up becoming a real part of the skyline must be incredible.”
“It is.” I hadn’t expected her to get it so completely, so accurately. Knowing now that she was designer as well, albeit of a different kind, it made sense. I guess I hadn’t expected her to grasp the architecture aspect of seeing a permanent change to the skyline so naturally. “At the risk of sounding narcissistic, it’s a bit like having a part of yourself immortalized.”
Marissa shook her head, eyes shining with sincerity. “No, I think I get it. Everyone wants to leave a positive legacy behind. For most of us, it’s only ever going to be in the memories of our families and some other people. The legacy you get to leave behind is tangible. I mean, you draw something and the next minute it’s out there for the world to see for a really long, long time to come. It’s no wonder you’re so particular about your designs.”
Marissa was coming alive right before my eyes. The passionate woman I’d glimpsed in the office, was far more radiant and captivating outside of it. Not to mention that she had a way of putting things more precisely than I could even arrange my own thoughts, much less my words.
Her apparent ability to see deeper was something I found myself a little in awe of. To understand things I didn’t always understand myself. It made me curious to know why it seemed so obvious to her.
“Tell me about your designs. You’ve seen mine, any chance you want to show me yours?”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t carry my sketchpad with me. Not anymore, anyway. I found it too distracting. Like to know it was burning a hole in my bag, just begging me to carry on with a sketch or capture a thought instead of paying attention to the job that actually provides my income.”
“Wouldn’t you like your designing to become your income providing job?” It was a strange question to ask, given that I was her employer. But I was genuinely curious about her at this point.
She shook her head, though there was a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. “It’s something I love doing, but getting to a place where you can sustain yourself as a designer takes time. I didn’t have that luxury.”