“It’s just that you give the general impression you’d rather go live on Mars than deal with humans, so I’m surprised to hear that you want to understand one of us better.” After a beat, she adds quietly, “Oh.”
“What?”
“You like her, don’t you? You’re attracted to her.”
It’s too bad my brother married someone this smart. I would’ve really enjoyed having a sister-in-law who couldn’t see right through me. “I’m only trying to avoid having to hire my sixth assistant this year.”
“Now who’s the bad liar?”
“Can we please just have this conversation without you reading anything into it?”
She laughs. “Cole, I’m a woman.”
“I don’t even want to know what that means.”
“It means estrogen gives us psychic powers.”
“Then why don’t you go pick the winning lottery numbers?”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”
“It’s the only reasonable response when a smart person is being silly. Can we please get back to Shay? You’re making my brain hurt.”
I must sound desperate, because she takes pity on me.
“Okay. You want my opinion about her? Here it is. I think she’s great. And before you get all huffy and puffy and impatient, let me continue. She’s one of those people you feel comfortable with right away because she’s real. There’s no bullshit with her. She’s not trying to impress you. She’s confident, but not obnoxiously so. And she’s obviously bright. But she also seems really kind, which is more important.”
“Kind? She told me I remind her of an owl.”
Emery snickers. “She’s funny too. I forgot to mention that.”
“Pretty sure she wasn’t joking. What else? Does she have family? Siblings? Where’s she from? What does she do on the weekends? What hobbies does she have? Does she have a pet? What about pet peeves? What makes her angry? What makes her happy? What makes her tick?”
After a beat, Emery says, “Cole?”
“What?”
“Take a deep breath.”
I realize I’ve circled my desk half a dozen times, I’ve got the phone in a death grip, and my voice is too loud. So I take her advice and inhale deeply, closing my eyes.
“Now sit down.”
“How do you know I’m standing?”
“Because you’re a McCord. You men shout best on your feet.”
That makes me smile, mainly because she’s right. I sink into my chair and sit back, attempting to relax. “Okay. I’m sitting.”
“Good. Now, all those questions you asked me? You need to ask her.”
“I can’t ask her. They’re too personal.”
“Which is exactly why she’s the one who should answer them. It’s called having a conversation. And don’t tell me you’re not good at that, because you’re doing it right now.”
When I only sit there brooding in silence, she takes pity on me again.
“Here’s something I can tell you, though. And it will give you more insight into her personality than you think.”
Her voice has turned intriguingly sly. I sit up in my chair, my pulse jumping. “What?”
“The name of her favorite book.”
After a moment of consideration, I say, “You’re a genius. What is it?”
“Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez.”
“I’ll buy a copy. Why do you think she likes it so much?”
“I’ll leave that to you to interpret. But I remember something she said about it that struck me as very insightful.”
“What is it?”
“She said people think it’s some sweeping, epic romance, but really it’s about unrealistic expectations. It doesn’t ask if the hero will get the girl—it asks if he should.”
I say flatly, “I hate it already.”
Her laugh is soft. “Well, well. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“If you’re about to say something about me being human, don’t. Goodbye, Emery.”
“Have a wonderful day, Cole.”
She’s still laughing when I hang up.
I decide I can’t be useful any longer today because Shay has invaded my brain like swarming bacteria. Then I feel bad for making such an unflattering comparison. Then I feel ridiculous for feeling bad, which is when I shut down the computer and leave the office.
My receptionist’s desk is empty. She either left for the day or quit. I check my watch. Six o’clock. So she probably didn’t quit, although I wouldn’t be surprised if that happened soon.