Twelve Nights

by Sharon Struth

  Gone from her life without another peep, and now the man was everywhere. Running behind her in Central Park. By her side in the emergency room. In the cab taking her home from the ER. Even at home she couldn’t escape him. He’d called Sunday morning at ten, making sure she hadn’t experienced any further concussion symptoms.

  She couldn’t deny that his golden hair was touchable, the dimple on his chin nearly edible. For a stretch, their lives together were a puzzle-perfect fit.

  At least until a job offer in London changed everything. Erik had wanted to say yes and expected her to join him overseas. Beryl had her own career to think about. She’d suggested he look at other companies in Boston, even New York, where she might be able to transfer and stay at Global. They’d both dug in their heels deep. So deep, each was stuck in a position from which they couldn’t—no, wouldn’t budge.

  One evening, after several discussions leading nowhere, he’d walked into their apartment and tossed his briefcase on the sofa. “Well, I did it, Beryl. I accepted the job.”

  “What? You’re taking it? My job doesn’t matter?”

  He’d sighed, loosened his tie while shaking his head. “Of course it does. The Holder Group might have a spot for you.”

  “A spot? I have more than a spot now. I’m at a firm where I’m advancing, where I’m valued, and . . .” She’d plopped her hand on her hip. “You took it, even after I voiced my concerns?”

  “Please, Beryl. For the past three days, we’ve been talking in circles.” Erik had walked over, put his hands on her shoulders. His tone pleaded. “This job means everything to my career. It’s an offer I can’t refuse. I’ll make sure they find work for you.”

  She pulled away from his hold. “I can’t believe you accepted the position without telling me first. This isn’t how couples make decisions.” Blind rage had possessed her as she marched to their bedroom. As she packed her bag, she ignored his pleas to stay.

  The irony of it presented itself all these years later. While Erik faced his first day at his dream job, she faced the stone-cold reality he could take hers away.

  All she’d ever wanted careerwise had been found at Global. A spacious office with this spectacular view. A position that had landed her on Forbes’s list of female executives to watch. A handsome salary. A substantial annual bonus. The money allowed her to own a co-op in the most amazing city in the world.

  “Morning, Beryl.” Jackie, her administrative assistant, appeared at the doorway wearing a pair of stiletto heeled pumps that elevated her to about an even five-foot height. Five feet one inch, if you counted the fluffy spikes of her short blond hair. “The announcement about your new boss is all over Facebook.”

  “On Facebook? I’m surprised.”

  “Everyone’s on Facebook. Except you.” Jackie grinned. “Based on an Internet search, our new prez isn’t too hard on the eyes.”

  “You did a search on him?”

  “Sure. Why not? Everything is on the Internet. And I do mean everything.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know what you mean. Hey, could you please send an e-mail to my managers that I’d like to move our weekly staff meeting to Friday morning at ten this week?”

  “Sure thing.” Jackie turned and left.

  Beryl went to her keyboard and typed “Erik Lindholm” into Google. His old company, the Holder Group, and Fortune magazine showed amongst the top listings. She clicked on the magazine and an issue from six months ago appeared. Erik’s handsome face graced the cover. His deep-set eyes softened as he stared at the camera with a hint of a smile. A pinstriped suit and red power tie showed he meant business. Desire for him stirred, her attraction to him instantaneous, as it was the first time they’d ever met.

  Her ringing phone cut the sensation short. Constantino, Darcy appeared across the display. “Good morning,” Beryl answered and exited the search.

  “Is your computer running?”

  “A crank call? This early in the day?” Beryl chuckled.

  “Ha-ha. Is it on?”

  “Yes.”

  “I sent you an e-mail.”

  Within seconds, Beryl found it. “You want me to go to this link?”

  “Yup.”

  A click took her to a YouTube video entitled, “Prince Charming Awakens the Princess.” “What is this?”

  “Just watch.”

  She hit Play. A little boy, around three or four years old, chased a pigeon while a man laughed in the background. People bundled in scarves and coats walked and jogged. A bell rang in the far distance, reminding her of the Santas collecting for charity, out in abundance this time of year. Central Park, perhaps?

  The camera operator focused on the child, and Beryl suddenly recognized the black pom-pom on the little boy’s knit cap because she’d seen him during her run. Someone in the distance on the recording yelled, “Slow down, asshole.” At that moment, the little boy hopped away from the camera, coming closer to a runner. Toward Beryl! Now she vividly recalled the moment in real time, the last thing she remembered before waking to find Erik staring at her.

  “Look out!” A familiar voice, but one she hadn’t heard that afternoon. That second, a speeding bike entered the frame aimed straight at the child, only the rider swerved and bumped her.

  Beryl gasped, almost remembering the feel of the impact. “That was me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She watched herself tossed like a ragdoll and left laying still on the ground. Despite knowing the outcome, her heart thumped wildly against her ribcage. A man appeared and kneeled at her side. Erik.

  “Beryl. Can you hear me?”

  On screen, she didn’t move. Beryl’s mouth went dry, her own vulnerability a scary thing to witness. Fear owned Erik’s voice as he demanded someone call 9-1-1. Her breath stilled, witnessing the tenderness with which he checked her pulse.

  Beryl watched her own eyes struggling to open, her body come alive with subtle movements.

  “Beryl, honey. Are you okay?” Erik’s hand traveled along her shoulders. She vaguely remembered him holding her hand, but not him touching her like this.

  Her lids slowly lifted. Looking sleepy, like her alarm clock had just gone off, Beryl smiled at him, a slow, stupid grin.

  “That’s my girl.” Erik touched her cheek. “An ambulance is on the way.”

  “This isn’t what happened,” Beryl said to Darcy. “And I’m not his girl.”

  “Shhh. Watch.”

  On screen, Beryl’s smile didn’t quit, her grin like that of two-year-old, enthralled by a game of peekaboo. He brushed aside a stray piece of her hair. She struggled to lift her arm and the smile vanished. Her fingertips grazed his cheek, and a love-struck gaze filled her eyes.

  He leaned down, close to her face. “You’ve fallen, hon. Just relax.”

  She lifted her head. Her lips parted, her lids hooded. Watching, Beryl cringed as their lips brushed.

  “That did NOT happen!”

  “I think it did,” Darcy quietly replied.

  “But, but . . .” Beryl remembered waking up. Seeing him. Wondering why he was there, but a kiss?

  The horror of the video continued as Erik responded by taking control. Tender and demanding, his kiss meant business. This display of his unbridled passion, his lips eagerly melded to hers, made her squirm in her seat. His passion both tempted and terrified her.

  When it ended, Beryl expelled a huge sigh. Only the video wasn’t over.

  “I-I . . .”

  Beryl watched herself stutter, but wished her videotaped alter ego would just shut up.

  “It’s okay.” Erik said with the most tender of voices, his gaze as bewildered as she felt at this very moment. “Rest.”

  Her eyes rolled back and lids flickered. Beryl watched as, on the tape, she fought rest and tried to speak. “I-I love you.” Then her eyes shut and she, again, lost consciousness.

  “No way, Darcy! I didn’t say—”

  “Shh. Wa
tch.”

  The video continued. Erik cooed words of encouragement, trying to get her to wake again. When she did, her reaction was far less pleased than the first time around.

  “There. All that I remember.”

  “So, you love him?” Darcy’s tone teased.

  “I don’t love him! Jesus, I was knocked unconscious.”

  “Then why did you—”

  “Okay. I don’t love him now, but . . .” Beryl lowered her voice. “I used to.”

  “No wonder you were acting so weird Friday night. When did you—”

  Darcy’s voice faded as Beryl’s gaze drifted beneath the video. A name and empty profile picture caught Beryl’s attention. “Who the hell is Joe Cool, and why did he post this?” Before Darcy could respond, Beryl spotted the staggering number of likes for the video. “Holy mother of God!”

  “Ah, then you’ve spotted the three thousand likes.”

  “Why would anybody like this?”

  “Check out the first comment.”

  A box marked commentary read, “Global Business Solutions’ new president shows concern for his staff.”

  Beryl shut her eyes. Her skin took on a clammy coldness, the blood rushing from her face and going straight down to her toes. “Oh. My. God. I’m going to get sick to my stomach. How is this possible?”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  “Only the second half. This must have been doctored up in Photoshop.” Questions ping-ponged inside her head. “How did the person filming know who Erik is? Or me?”

  “Good questions. Oh, this is traveling the social-media circuit. A lot of people from the office are sharing it.”

  Beryl’s stomach flip-flopped. Years spent avoiding office relationships so others wouldn’t talk or say she hadn’t gotten far on her own merit. All discounted by an encounter she didn’t even remember.

  Darcy quietly asked, “You okay?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “This’ll blow over. But, one more piece of bad news.” Darcy paused long enough for Beryl’s worry to reach record heights so she braced herself for the worst. “It’s trending on Twitter right now.”

  Beryl groaned and sank deeper into her chair.

  For the next hour, Beryl hid inside her office. She contacted YouTube and requested they remove the video. Darcy learned from others in the office that the identifying comment on the video site had been posted by a guest attendee at Friday night’s gala who’d seen the clip. Not much Beryl could do about that, but she could work on internal damage control.

  She left her office and hurried past Jackie, thankful her assistant was on the phone. Avoiding the elevator, she hiked up the stairwell to Erik’s office level. She rounded the corner to the suite that once belonged to Saul. A stranger sat at the assistant’s desk.

  The brunette filled out a message on a pink pad. She appeared to be in her late twenties. Dark, straight hair fell to her shoulders. A navy jacket gave a professional appearance, but her gold jewelry was overdone and her perfume invaded the entire reception area. Worse than the kind they try to spritz on you at the department stores.

  Beryl approached and read the name plaque. “Hello. Giana?”

  She continued writing. “Yes?”

  “I’m Beryl Foster, CFO. Nice to meet you. I’d like to see Erik.”

  Giana glanced up, almost smiled. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. It’s an emergency. Could you just ask if he has a second for me?”

  Giana pursed her lips but stood and did as asked. Her movement stirred the overwhelming perfume again, and it wafted up Beryl’s nose like a living thing, making her stomach squirm. Or maybe that came from being asked to wait outside Erik’s office as if she was nobody.

  Giana—and her perfume—returned. She smiled sweetly. “He said to go in.”

  Beryl hurried past her and, once inside, closed the door. Erik glanced up from his desk. Pinstriped shirtsleeves secured by gold cuff links, and a pricey gold watch on his wrist, screamed of big bucks. He was no longer the young sales representative who sometimes couldn’t afford a dinner out.

  He glanced up and smiled. “Glad you’re here. I planned to call you. Take a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from him. “There’s a video showing the cyclist who hit you.”

  “I know. I’m not as happy about it as you.” She sat and crossed her legs.

  “Why not? That asshole is a menace. He didn’t even look back after clipping your leg. There’s a chance the police can track him down from this tape.”

  “Did you watch the whole thing?”

  He stacked some papers and avoided her eyes. “I did.”

  She lowered her voice. “You kissed me.”

  He glanced up. “You don’t need to whisper. The video is all over the place. Also—and I believe this is proven by the video replay—you kissed me.”

  “No I didn’t! Why would I—” She quieted, recalling the clear expression of longing for him on her face, not to mention the words she’d spoken. “I don’t remember doing it. I-I’m sorry.”

  His lower lip bowed. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  “Can we talk damage control? I think you need to say something to the staff. If I do, it won’t carry the same weight.”

  Erik scratched his eyebrow and a glimpse of irritation crossed his face. An action and expression she’d seen before, usually when he complained she was overreacting.

  “Just drop it, Beryl. It’ll pass in a day or two.”

  The response tweaked her frustration. Erik’s sisters used to jokingly call him the King of Calm. Back in those days, Beryl recalled agreeing with them. Once she’d called him that to his face, after his clinical approach to handling her sizzling anger over a problem at the office. He’d only shaken his head, but didn’t engage, making her irritation surge.

  This moment was professional, though, not boyfriend-girlfriend. She inhaled deeply, her composure on shaky ground. “I appreciated your help on Saturday at the emergency room and taking me home. But that kiss, it will appear to others like I’m . . . We . . . Like we’re intimate.”

  A smile teased his lips. “I can’t say it wasn’t a nice way to get reacquainted.”

  Heat blasted along her cheeks. “I told you. I don’t even remember the kiss. I was delirious from being knocked unconscious.”

  “Beryl, it’s okay. Nobody will judge you.” Steady, calm, and smooth. The way one might talk to a barking dog. “If you don’t make such a big deal over it, this’ll blow over in no time.”

  “A big deal?” She stood. Anger pooled in her fists and made her gut tremble. “I’m glad you think my reputation isn’t a big deal. You know, you could’ve told me on Saturday that we kissed.”

  His jaw tensed. “I didn’t see the need.”

  Businesslike. Practical. Qualities she often admired workwise, but she hated right now. “I was obviously delirious to kiss you. Especially after the way you walked out on me.”

  “Whoa.” He jerked his head back, eyes widening. A real reaction for a change. “Walked out on you? You refused to join me overseas.”

  “No. I couldn’t join you. I had a job, too. Remember?” She slapped her palms on the desk and leaned closer to him. “Out of all your choices, you picked the worst one for me.”

  He stood, copied her position, leaning so close she heard him inhale in an attempt, no doubt, to regain his composure. His tone steadied. “You seem to have forgotten one thing. I. Loved. You. Wanted you with me.”

  His soapy-clean scent drifted into her path, awakening a memory. Each dreamlike detail of the YouTube video sharpened, became real. His strong hands stroking her face. The kindness in his voice. The tenderness of his lips, so genuine the memory made her limbs weak and cheeks burn.

  She stepped away. “I didn’t come here to rehash the past. Why don’t you listen to me for once? People around here will talk. It’s as much about your reputation as mine. Now, how do y
ou want to handle it?”

  “I’m not making a public statement. If anybody asks, we’ll be honest that we once dated years ago. The kiss was due to the fall. A momentary lapse in reality.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and studied her. “Is there anything else I can do for you before our afternoon staff meeting?”

  “Not a thing.” She turned and left, before she said something she might regret.

  * * * *

  Erik pulled on his suit jacket, tucked his leather portfolio under his arm, and strode from his office. “I’ll be in the boardroom if you need me.”

  Giana glanced up from her computer, smiled a little too sincerely. “I’m here if you need me.”

  He went down the hallway, thinking about Beryl’s anger this morning. They’d left so much unsaid long ago, now making matters worse.

  The insights Erik had accumulated about himself over the past decade would’ve been useful when the London offer arrived. Maybe things would’ve been different between the two of them. Back then, he didn’t see how his father’s expectations drove his desires for job advancement. When he’d told his dad about the job offer in London, Erik had seen the pride evident in his father’s eyes. Always present whenever Erik played his part as the eldest son to perfection. When had it finally hit him that it was the wrong reason to end the engagement? One year later? Five years? Did it matter anymore? The weight of regret pressed to Erik’s chest, but he quickly let it go and pushed open the glass conference room doors.

  The entire executive board appeared to be present at the long table, talking amongst themselves. Amidst the sea of suited males, Beryl and Tina, VP of Global’s call center, were the only two females on his executive team. Both wore suit jackets, a female touch added by jewelry and softer blouses. Beryl wrote in her planner and didn’t even glance up at his arrival.

  Erik sat at the table head, next to Samir. Thanks to his old friend’s early-morning visit, he hadn’t been caught off guard when Beryl flew into his office. A quick explanation they’d once dated had kept Samir from asking more questions.