by Ever Coming
“Gerri doesn’t work that way.” He spoke as if it were fact, a common one at that.
“You talk of her as if you know her. Gerri, I mean, not Roxanne.” I almost said Roxy, since that was what he called her, but she had always been Roxanne to me, and until she said otherwise, she’d remain that way. Roxy was her hubby’s nickname for her and, by all appearances, it had spread.
“Of her,” he corrected, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “She’s built quite a reputation for herself.”
“I hadn’t heard of her until Roxanne got paired up with Barry but didn’t pay much attention until the gift certificate thing.” And, even afterward, my Google search came up with pretty much squat. Whatever circle she was quasi-famous in, was one I didn’t travel in.
“I’m glad your friend was so thoughtful.” He poured what smelled like my favorite tea. The man had thought of everything.
“Or Roxanne is a buttinski.” She was, but with a heart of gold, so it never bothered me—much.
“Or that.”
We sat there, watching as the sun finished rising, enjoying our scones in the noise of the awakening city. People thought sunrise was only worth paying attention to in the country, where you could watch Mother Nature awake in all her glory, and that was beautiful. But there was something to be said for watching the concrete jungle awakening as well. It had its own unique beauty.
“So, tell me about your job,” Curtis asked as I popped the last bite of scone into my mouth.
“Boring,” I mumbled as I took a sip of tea to wash it all down. “Basically, I’m glorified customer service.” Or, more accurately, I listened to and read emails from people bitching to me all day about things I had zero control over. My accounting degree was wasted on appeasing clients or telling them to reset their machines, but it was in my field.
“It doesn’t sound like much fun.” It wasn’t.
“It’s how I met Roxanne, so there is that.” That had been the best part of the gig, to be sure. Not the long hours during crunch time for no pay thanks to “salary,” not the ogling pervy boss, and certainly not the dismal leave program. It was decent paying, though, and in a city with overpriced apartments being the norm, that was good enough.
“So basically, ‘the best job ever’?” Yeah, he spent more than just a couple of seconds on the phone with Roxanne, if he knew our inside joke about my job complete with air quotes. I slid my chair closer to his because why the heck not, and he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in closer. A girl could get used to that.
“You seem more relaxed, today,” I observed. He was still serious-ish, but nothing like Saturday. I liked both sides of him, but seeing him like this, with me, felt special somehow.
“I am.”
“I’m glad. Saturday was—it just was.” There were no words I could pull to accurately describe it. It was magical yet terrifying yet comforting, all wrapped into a bundle of surrealism. It was a night I’d never forget.
“It really was,” he agreed. “We were so nervous as we waited for you to arrive, wondering who would walk through the door. We’d seen your picture, and you’d chatted with Parker briefly, but that didn’t tell us much.”
“At least you knew there was only one person coming.” I nestled in close as I recalled that initial moment when it clicked that they were both there—for me—at the same time.
“Fair enough. More tea?” He leaned forward, grabbing the pot, expecting my answer to be in the affirmative, which it was, so score one for Curtis.
“Please.”
He re-filled my tea before pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“You know, I thought I was going to leave there and get home and panic or come to my senses or something. I kept waiting for it to come, but it didn’t.”
“I’m not sure what to make of that confession.” He set his cup down, his eyes glued to mine.
Fair enough. It was far more babble than I’d intended.
“Just that this still feels like the right path for me even if it makes no sense on any rational level.” I leaned forward just enough to take a sip of tea, but not enough to leave his warmth.
“By rational, you mean societally speaking?”
“Yeah, that. Which is dumb, I know. But it is so embedded. Doesn’t it bother you at all?”
“Not so much. My closest friend in elementary school was born to a triad.” Wait? What? “And he wasn’t the only one at school. I guess it was just more normal where I grew up?”
It so was not the norm where I grew up. Goodness, if it weren’t for reality television which made it seem like the worst idea ever and a few romance novels I happened upon, the idea of a triad never would’ve crossed my mind.
“Is it even legal?” Who were his friend’s parents when it came to the school etc.? Did it matter?
“To marry, no.” That was what I thought. Why did that sting so badly? We hadn’t even gotten past solo dates yet. Talk about getting ahead of myself. “Not for all three to marry, but to live as a family, sure.”
“Is that what you want? A family?” Something about sitting side by side and not face to face had my words slipping out faster than I could control them. Not that I wanted to move. I was content to stay here in his arms until work time.
“Someday, sure.”
“Me, too, but a real one. One who lives together.” In other words, not the crap I thought the norm as a child.
“You’re not talking about the surrogacy misunderstanding, are you?” Damn, that was such a low point of my conclusion jumping.
“No. My family was less than functional while I was growing up.” A cheating, sometimes-present, always-drunk dad was far from the description of perfection, not that my enabling mother was much better. For a long time, I blamed her lack of mothering on her gift, but I’d long since realized that was just an excuse. Ghosts visiting you doesn’t make you a craptastic mother who all but ignores your kid; being a horrible human does.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It made me who I am, right?” Or so I told myself repeatedly when I finally escaped to the good old walls of higher education and dorm life. “It also taught me about all the things I don’t want.”
“I grew up the opposite, and now I know all the things I do want.” At least our kids will have one set of good grandparents. Wait? What? Where did that come from. Down, ovaries, down. This was a sort of kind of the first, possibly second date. Not the time to be thinking babies.
“Yin and yang and all that.”
“Sounds like.” And, with that, his watch started to buzz with increasing volume.
“Does that mean I have to go to work?” Work was the last place I wanted to go on a good day, but now that I was here in his half embrace, it sounded like pure torture.
“It’s my five-minute warning.”
“Explain?”
“It means, if I want to kiss you good-bye, I have five minutes before you turn into a working pumpkin.” He was so not joking about maximizing every second.
“You set an alarm for that?” I didn’t know if I was more amused or impressed.
“Math guy.” I felt him shrug.
“For a math guy, you sure are wasting your time. Tick-t” And before I could finish my taunt, his lips were on mine.
Gentle, almost tentative at first, the heat grew quickly and before I knew it, I was sitting on his lap, my tongue exploring his mouth while his explored mine, just as the alarm went off again. This time, it was work time. Suck an egg.
“Next time, make it a twenty-minute warning,” I groaned as I climbed off his lap, straightening my clothing enough to be presentable for work. “Screw it. A half hour warning.”
“I can do that.” He smiled broadly as he rose, adjusted his pants in what I assumed was an attempt to hide his rather bulging member from whomever we might encounter along the way, and took my hand. The real world was awaiting me only a building away. Yuck.
Chapter Six
Leaving Curtis, to w
alk straight into the line of fire at work, was far from my definition of a good time, but, alas, it’s how the day had gone. I’d barely stepped into my cubicle when my desk phone rang with the first of five irate customers complaining about a downed system my department had no connection too. Par for the course on a Monday, but still not fun.
My day brightened as my phone buzzed in my purse.
Still on for lunch?
Glancing at the clock and then my to-do pile, I knew it wasn’t the best idea. I’d probably hear about it for a week, but my fingers answered of their own accord.
Looking forward to it.
I was the employee who skipped lunch to get things done, stayed late so those with families didn’t have to, and never complained to anyone in the office, at least not since Roxanne left. I deserved a full lunch break.
“Madeline, you know better than to use your work time for personal business,” George seethed from behind me. When did he get there?
“Sorry, Mr. Francis.” I shoved the phone in my pocket, ignoring the buzz indicating Parker had replied.” It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right it won’t. You can make up the time at lunch.”
George was never a good guy, but I’d never seen him this unreasonable before. Usually, once I whipped out the Mr. Francis, he was putty in my hand, most likely because he had some gross BDSM fantasy about spanking me or some such shit, but you work with what you’ve got, and if formality made him less of an ass, I was going with it.
“I’llstay late, sir. I put in for an extended lunch.” Because he might be my boss, but he wasn’t going to ruin my lunch, not when I could easily stand up and see ten people with cell phones on their desk, eyeing them every time they got a notification. Not gonna happen.
“Which is why, I was here in the first place. Denied.” I was not going to yell at him. I was not going to yell at him. I was not going to yell at him. “You can’t just willy-nilly decide to take time off. That’s not how it works.”
Except that was exactly how it worked, and he knew it. Half the time people spent too long at lunch and put in the request later. Whatever had crawled up his ass today needed to dislodge itself. Pronto.
“Yes, sir. I will just take my normal time.” A short lunch with a hot guy was better than no lunch. Even if the entire thing was unfair.
“Were you not listening?”
I stood up as he leaned over me doing the power-move crap. I had no time for that.
“You will make up for your time lost this morning by skipping lunch.”
“That is against state regulations, sir.” My voice was calm given the rage that was quickly building. I needed to transfer departments before I lost my ever lovin’ patience.
“And now that missed lunch will be paired with a written warning. Anything else you’d like to add?”
“No, sir.” Unless he meant my fist to his face. Human Resources was getting a visit from me as soon as Angela got back from her maternity leave because this was crossing a line even he couldn’t gaslight away.
“Excellent. And, Madeline? You stink. If you’re going to be around vermin, please do everyone a favor and shower.”
He did not just call me smelly. Except, the wrinkle in his nose told me exactly that.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir.”
I leaned over him. It was a bitch move, but, in these heels, I was taller than him, which I knew burned his butt.
“I’m sure you don’t.”
And then the desk phone rang. Whatever the caller had to say was four thousand times better than the conversation at hand.
“I need to get this.” I turned from him, taking my seat and answering said call with the sweetest voice I could muster up. His feet echoing as he stomped down the hallway like a petulant child. I allowed myself to get lost in the call, which was one of many for the morning. Looked like there was a server down somewhere, one which was not even close to my department, but the mis-routed call got George on his way, so grateful I was.
“Madeline, a Mr. Houston is here to see you.” Betsy peeped over my cubicle, startling me from the complaint report I had been just finishing up.
Suck. I completely forgot to cancel. This was not good, on more levels than I cared to analyze.
“I’ll be right there, Betsy.” She wanted more from me. Who could blame her? Parker was hotter than hot, but I had to submit the form and go break the bad news to him without ruining the start of what I hoped would be a good thing.
As I rounded the corner to the reception area, he nearly stole my breath. Jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt never looked as sexy, and paired with that smile? Yum.
“Hi, beautiful.” He met me halfway, giving me a far-too-brief hug. “Ready to go?”
“I can’t.” His face fell, probably matching mine. “I need to work through lunch. I’m sorry for not calling.”
He tensed beside me, and at first, I thought it was at my rejection, but as George took another step forward, the reason became clear. Asshat.
“She didn’t call because that was what got her in trouble in the first place.” His anger, as beyond irrational as it was, filled the room.
“I already apologized, Mr. Francis.” I knew I sounded weak, submitting like that, but sometimes it just wasn’t worth it.
“Back to work. This is not social time.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Frank, was it?” Parker took a half step in front of me. It wasn’t possessive, it was protective and gave me warm feels that were completely out of place given the scene developing before me. The scene that was now being watched by almost everyone in the department.
“George Francis.”
As if Parker didn’t remember. George made a mistake thinking he should get into this battle in front of Parker, from the looks of things.
“George, under state regulations, employees working a full shift are required to be given two paid fifteen-minute breaks per eight-hour shift and one half-hour break that is not required to be paid.” There was no way he knew that for sure, being an out of stater, but the confidence in his voice had even me convinced he knew his legal guidelines. He was, incidentally, right.
“She was on the phone.” His anger, more in control this time. Probably because of the handful of cell phones currently out and probably recording. Yay, coworkers filled with the nosey.
“During her morning fifteen-minute break.” He said it as truth. He had no idea and was incidentally wrong, not because I wouldn’t have waited for my break, but because I hadn’t been given one in over a year.
“We don’t do that here,” Betsy piped in helpfully. She was at the age where she could retire whenever she felt the need, and her shits were officially gone, and she had the luxury of not being directly under George’s authority. Not that I envisioned her as a toe-the-line kind of gal in her youth or even with her own bosses.
“Betsy.” George’s sternness only came across as a confession.
“Sorry, sir.” She so was not. I held in a giggle.
“So, Madeline and I will be off for her lunch now.” Parker stated as he took my hand.
“Thirty. Minutes. Not a second longer.” Because George just couldn’t let things go. It must’ve been miserable to be him.
“Noted.” Parker winked as he spoke, bringing a few gasps from the crowd that wasn’t even hiding their interest in the unfolding events.
“And don’t think I don’t know what you are. Your kind isn’t welcome around here,” George spat as we walked out the door, both of us pretending we didn’t hear because, screw that. We had a half hour of together time.
“Is he always such an asshole?” Parker asked as the elevator door closed behind us.
“George? Yeah, always. Usually a few sirs and a couple of Mr. Francises settle him down, though. He likes to feel important.” Today was an exceptionally asshole day for him, though, and a far-too-big part of me hoped that meant he was coming down with something and wouldn’t be around for a few days.<
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“Because he has a small cock?” the word cock popping out of his mouth just as the doors opened and shocking a poor old lady.
“That’s what we all assume.”
“So, thirty minutes.” He led me to the door, walking a bit faster than normal, which I totally got. Our time was limited.
“Twenty-six.” I sighed as we exited the building.
“Coffee shop across the street?”
I gave a quick look to see if there were any new fun food trucks that had popped up, but there weren’t, much to my disappointment. Mediocre coffee and stale pastries it was.
“Sounds good.” Ish. Good-ish. It was with him, so that made it good. “What did he mean by your kind?” That had been bugging me since he said it. It was such a weird turn of phrase given that Parker looked like a random hot guy and not some normally marginalized group.
“You caught that?”
I nodded.
“We have twenty-three minutes. Can we come back to that?”
And like a rock in the stomach, it hit me. George was commenting on his sexuality. I didn’t know I could hate the man more, but I did. Jerk.
“Sounds good. Not looking forward to going back.” I confessed as we crossed the street, the light finally in our favor. “He looked pissed, the little weasel.”
“More like a dog.”
“That, too.” Not that I would tell Parker what a truly doglike freak he was, always sniffing around my ass. I might not know Parker well, but if cutting my break had him defending my honor, I didn’t want to think about what being a creeper to me would result in.
“I want a do-over, for the record.” He held the door for me at the blissfully empty coffee shop. In the morning, an entire half hour could easily be spent waiting to order your coffee.
“This date is already so horrible you want a do-over?” I teased as I perused the menu board.
“More like too short.” He came up behind me, his hand on my shoulder as he leaned in to speak in my ear. “Dinner?”
“Have you talked to Curtis today?” I asked. How does one elegantly decline a date because they already have one? Or was it with both of them?