Part 12 (1/2)

Emilia started talking as soon as we were done hosing ourselves off. ”I'm surprised you're letting whatever it is between the two of you stop you from doing the best client you've ever- Wrong word choice. Stop you from keeping the best client you've ever had.” She didn't flinch when her towel fell. Since she'd lost all that weight and worked us both so hard to keep it off, she had no problem talking to me while topless. ”He has a ton of work for you, right? He pays a higher wage than any other client, and your schedule would be a whole lot emptier without him. Can't you just find a way to ignore everything else?”

”I'm not sure.” I pulled my s.h.i.+rt over my head one-handed, the other one clutching my towel to avoid an accidental nip slip.

”Andi, you are the strongest person I know. And probably the most focused. So let's run through a few different scenarios.” She continued after I nodded warily. ”Number one-this whole romantic entanglement thing with Hayden is all in your head. The answer to that is to suck it up and deal with it. You're not sitting next to him all day-you're across town from him. At night, you can dream about him sweeping you off to some secluded destination and banging your brains out, but during the day, you stay focused on your job and ignore the inclination to over-examine his every comment. Because they don't mean anything. He's married, and you're a good person. Therefore, it's not going to happen.”

”You're right.”

”Of course I am, but I'm not done.”

I wiggled into my undies, the towel securely tucked around my waist. Emilia had no such trouble since her towel was already in the bin. So she just watched me struggle with an amused grin on her face. Where did she buy her confidence?

”Scenario number two,” she continued, ”he totally has the hots for you and wants to screw you on your desk until you have keyboard shaped dents on your a.s.s.”

”Thanks for the image which will never leave my brain.” Granted, the s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g-on-the-desk one was ruined by the dents-in-my-a.s.s one-'cause I don't need any more of those, thanks very much-but that was probably for the best.

”You're welcome. Now back to the scenario. Here's the flaw in it: As much as I love you, and as beautiful as I think you are inside and out, the guy barely knows you. So we're not talking about true love here.”

We weren't? No, of course we weren't. If anything, we were talking about two people liking each other a lot, who hadn't been exposed to the dangers of getting s.e.x mixed up with love. Who hadn't gotten confused and decided that great s.e.xual compatibility meant they should be together. If anything, Hayden and I were just two people who'd gotten to know who each of us really were without the games and pressures of a physical relations.h.i.+p.

s.h.i.+t. Was I talking myself out of it being real or into it?

Emilia went on, totally unaware of my screwed-up internal argument. ”We're talking about a man who may not fully understand the parameters of your working relations.h.i.+p. Who might be lonely, have a terrible marriage, and think his respect for you and your work means more than it does. Now, I don't think Hayden Bennett is a stupid man. If you told him what's up, he should be smart enough to deal with it. If he can't, then that's on him, and you walk away with your head held high.”

”You're right again.” I tossed my wet towel into the bin and b.u.t.toned my pants.

”Of course, I am.” She grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the club's members-only fridge, cracked it open, and downed at least half of it. ”So, as we've just learned from both scenarios, this is not an insurmountable problem. I think you should consider giving him one more shot. I'm not going to force you into anything, but if you sit down with him and tell him what is and is not going to happen, it might clear things up between the two of you.”

”Maybe. But you're not talking about sitting down, sitting down, are you? Because I don't think I'll be able to sit for a couple of days.” I rubbed my b.u.t.t again to increase circulation.

”Fine. You both talk standing up and in different places.” She slammed her locker and spun the lock. ”Oh, quick change of topic before you get back to worrying about things you can't control. Are you helping Rob with something? I'm guessing it's computer related because my help isn't good enough. Anyway, he mentioned that you've been hard to get a hold of.”

”You mean you're okay with your hot husband getting a hold of me? Thank you! Rob will really help me forget about Hayden.” Actually, thanks to caller ID and the fact that very few people knew my number to begin with, it had been easy to avoid her husband. I had nothing to tell him anyway.

She glared at me. ”Just for that, I'm going to sign us up for another spin cla.s.s and make sure we get two spots in the front line.” Laughing at her own joke, she tucked her water bottle into her oversized purse. ”I am now going to focus on my desperate hobble to the car and leave you to think about my incredible advice.”

I did think about it. All the way to the car, on the drive home, and through four hours of Netflix binging. Oh man, if the zombie apocalypse doesn't seem all that bad compared to real life, you have serious issues.

Emilia was right-Hayden was probably just a bit confused. If I sat him down-metaphorically speaking, because sitting was out of the question for at least a few days and meeting him was out forever-and set some rules, maybe we could continue working together. After an unknown amount of time playing it straight, I'd be able to think of him as just another client. He'd be a paycheck, not a friend, and definitely not anything beyond that.

Plus, as was the case in Emilia's first scenario, I was probably just being an idiot and reading too much into everything. He had no interest in me, apart from me being an employee. It wasn't as if no boss had ever befriended an employee before. So maybe we could be friends, and I could figure out another way to handle the blackmail issue.

Right, because things always worked out the way I wanted them to.

15.

Hayden I was on my third cup of coffee, feeling jittery but no less exhausted. I'd spent the previous night working, but was so distracted by thoughts of Sira, everything had taken three times as long to go through. It was my own fault. She had every right to be upset. I'd never been fired before, but if I'd ever deserved it, now was the time. Eventually, the tang of disappointment would go away.

When my phone rang, I hesitated before answering, sure it was whomever the agency had chosen to replace Sira. ”Bennett.”

”We need to talk.” Her voice. Not angry, not weak. Strong, like she was about to put me in my place. And, for once, for her, I would allow it.

”I'm listening.”

”I really liked working with you, and I appreciate the complimentary things you said to my boss about my work.” She took a breath. ”I may have reacted badly, or misinterpreted certain things, and for that, I apologize.”

”If an apology is necessary, it should be from me. Your reaction was completely appropriate.”

”Thanks, but I don't agree. That being said, for whatever reason-real or imagined-things may have gotten a bit...out of hand and, while I'm not exactly sure how or why, I'm hoping that if guidelines are set up, it won't happen again.”

”What sort of guidelines?” I would agree to almost anything that would end with us speaking.

”Well, for one, meeting in person-even if you ask my boss-won't be happening. Our conversations, as much as I enjoy them, should be kept to a minimum to avoid any misunderstandings. And...um...there was a third one, but I forgot what it was.”

”Something about me not being allowed to think about how much I'd like to buy you dinner, perhaps?”

”You think of- Um... No, that wasn't it. But now I think we should add a fourth-you're not allowed to say things like that.”

”I'll do my best,” I said, smiling. ”But it's like handing someone a sealed envelope and telling them not to look inside. Can't be done.”

I knew there was a line, and I knew I'd crossed it. In for a penny... Why not just stalk the poor woman? Who was only trying to do her job in a professional manner. The problem was that I never gave up. On anything.

Not since my father had beaten me unconscious after little league. Final game of the season, and an eight-year-old, hyper-compet.i.tive Hayden got p.i.s.sed off at the ref's call, threw his mitt down, and stomped off the field. The memory of the injuries that had followed my outburst and a whole bunch of other paternal lessons still drove me. Had gotten me far. At least, in terms of money and s.h.i.+t I didn't give a s.h.i.+t about. Far enough to where I was seriously contemplating ruining a woman's life on the off chance our flirtation could be more than that.

f.u.c.k you, Dad. Thanks a lot.

”You need to understand that certain...ideas have entered my consciousness,” she said. ”And I need them to go away. If you-even in jest-play on those ideas, I'm going to have to permanently separate myself from you.”

I should walk away now before I got in any deeper. Yes, I could find another a.s.sistant. No, I didn't want to. Sira understood me, read between my lines and gave me what I wanted before I knew what that was. But that was work, not life. Why did I think one would bleed into the other? Because they did in every other way. Work was my life.

Maybe I was in need of some serious therapy. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Maybe.

But the world didn't run on maybe. The world was made up of yes's and no's. And if you didn't pick one, someone chose for you. Another lesson I'd learned from my father. And from watching him die right in front of me.

”Do you understand, Hayden?”

”Yes,” I said slowly, forcing the word out. ”Yes, I understand.” As much as I didn't want to.

16.

Hayden Just like any other day, Clare was sitting on her chair when I came home. But instead of reading, she stared at the floor, her knees tucked into her chest. It was a subtle difference, and if our life together had any variation in it whatsoever, I wouldn't have noticed.

”How was your day?” I asked. Same words, different actions. Instead of just walking by her on my way to the kitchen, I stopped.

”Fine. Yours?” Her voice was strained, hoa.r.s.e.