always there for me. And I love him.”
“He’s wrong for you.”
She frowned, as if I had just sprinkled cold water on her face. “ This is wrong, Cameron. You need to go.”
I studied her eyes as they bore into mine, scarring my soul. I felt fully vulnerable right then, but it didn’t matter; she had seen all of me already…she owned me.
“Okay,” I said. “You win.” When she started to turn away, I blurted that I love her. “I won’t stop,” I elaborated. “But if it makes it easier for you to think that our meeting the other day at Panera wasn’t some motion of fate or destiny, then you’re crazy.”
She froze, her back to me. “You need to leave now, Cameron.” And then she seemed to remember what she was doing and used her special access fob to get inside the office where she worked. And when she disappeared inside, I thought of the other time she had left without a glance back.
Cold, yes.
But this time, I stood there for a beat before realizing the truth behind her message. All of this bullshit with wanting to see me, wanting to tell me to fuck off to my face…it could mean only one thing.
She still loved me.
After getting back to my desk, I sent Hope the following email:
Hey, no worries about the miscommunication today at lunch. I know you’re tired and didn’t mean anything by what you said. How about we reschedule lunch for tomorrow? And we can actually eat something this time?
- Cam
I waited all day for a response that never came. I even stayed at work a little later than normal. By 5:30, I felt Newman’s dickhead presence behind me. I rotated in my chair and stared at him, curious about the sneer on his face.
“You’re not getting in-lieu time, Cam,” he said.
I gave an understanding nod. “It’s not what I’m after.”
The edges of his lips began to curl upward, the double chin somehow enhanced in his moment of personal victory. “This doesn’t provide you any job security, either.”
I made a show of checking the watch on my wrist. “It’s half an hour, Newman. I’m only doing what I always do.”
He gave a fake chuckle. “What would that be?”
“An exceptional job.”
The insincere camaraderie melted off his face. If he could’ve grown demonic horns out the top of his head, this would’ve been their birthing moment.
“I don’t expect that you’ve gone through the single-purchase report,” I said. “So I’m writing my recommendations right now. In plain, third-grade English,” I added. “With pretty pie charts and colorful profitability projections, and—”
“Go home, Cam,” Newman growled, having burned through what little patience he had left. “White-gloved princesses like you don’t survive in the trenches. It’s the hard-working, back-breaking, middle-management types like me who make sure you and your big-boy friends upstairs don’t bring the rest of our company down.” He turned and walked away, sneering down the length of his nose like he owned the world.
“Maybe you’re wrong about me, Newman,” I called out after him.
“Not a chance,” he said, his back to me. “I’m never wrong.”
“There’s always a first,” I said.
“Not this time,” he huffed as he left the 45 th floor work area and entered the elevator lobby.
Shaking my head at his ridiculousness, I returned to the computer. I checked my inbox first. When I saw that Hope still hadn’t responded, I refocused on the report and absent-mindedly completed my write up. By 6:15, I was all finished, fired it off to Newman, then packed up and left for the night.
} i {
Chapter 16
I decided on the twenty-minute walk home. It was a slightly longer commute than taking the subway, but it afforded me some time to clear my head for what I imagined awaited me at the condo.
I cut across West Wacker and walked North on Michigan Avenue, always amazed by the clusters of tourists. It never really mattered what time of year it was, they came here like it was
“He’s wrong for you.”
She frowned, as if I had just sprinkled cold water on her face. “ This is wrong, Cameron. You need to go.”
I studied her eyes as they bore into mine, scarring my soul. I felt fully vulnerable right then, but it didn’t matter; she had seen all of me already…she owned me.
“Okay,” I said. “You win.” When she started to turn away, I blurted that I love her. “I won’t stop,” I elaborated. “But if it makes it easier for you to think that our meeting the other day at Panera wasn’t some motion of fate or destiny, then you’re crazy.”
She froze, her back to me. “You need to leave now, Cameron.” And then she seemed to remember what she was doing and used her special access fob to get inside the office where she worked. And when she disappeared inside, I thought of the other time she had left without a glance back.
Cold, yes.
But this time, I stood there for a beat before realizing the truth behind her message. All of this bullshit with wanting to see me, wanting to tell me to fuck off to my face…it could mean only one thing.
She still loved me.
After getting back to my desk, I sent Hope the following email:
Hey, no worries about the miscommunication today at lunch. I know you’re tired and didn’t mean anything by what you said. How about we reschedule lunch for tomorrow? And we can actually eat something this time?
- Cam
I waited all day for a response that never came. I even stayed at work a little later than normal. By 5:30, I felt Newman’s dickhead presence behind me. I rotated in my chair and stared at him, curious about the sneer on his face.
“You’re not getting in-lieu time, Cam,” he said.
I gave an understanding nod. “It’s not what I’m after.”
The edges of his lips began to curl upward, the double chin somehow enhanced in his moment of personal victory. “This doesn’t provide you any job security, either.”
I made a show of checking the watch on my wrist. “It’s half an hour, Newman. I’m only doing what I always do.”
He gave a fake chuckle. “What would that be?”
“An exceptional job.”
The insincere camaraderie melted off his face. If he could’ve grown demonic horns out the top of his head, this would’ve been their birthing moment.
“I don’t expect that you’ve gone through the single-purchase report,” I said. “So I’m writing my recommendations right now. In plain, third-grade English,” I added. “With pretty pie charts and colorful profitability projections, and—”
“Go home, Cam,” Newman growled, having burned through what little patience he had left. “White-gloved princesses like you don’t survive in the trenches. It’s the hard-working, back-breaking, middle-management types like me who make sure you and your big-boy friends upstairs don’t bring the rest of our company down.” He turned and walked away, sneering down the length of his nose like he owned the world.
“Maybe you’re wrong about me, Newman,” I called out after him.
“Not a chance,” he said, his back to me. “I’m never wrong.”
“There’s always a first,” I said.
“Not this time,” he huffed as he left the 45 th floor work area and entered the elevator lobby.
Shaking my head at his ridiculousness, I returned to the computer. I checked my inbox first. When I saw that Hope still hadn’t responded, I refocused on the report and absent-mindedly completed my write up. By 6:15, I was all finished, fired it off to Newman, then packed up and left for the night.
} i {
Chapter 16
I decided on the twenty-minute walk home. It was a slightly longer commute than taking the subway, but it afforded me some time to clear my head for what I imagined awaited me at the condo.
I cut across West Wacker and walked North on Michigan Avenue, always amazed by the clusters of tourists. It never really mattered what time of year it was, they came here like it was
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