“So that’s a no.”
He grudgingly admits, “I’m working on it.”
“If by working on it you mean you scheduled another meeting, I’ll break your kneecaps.”
“See? Neanderthal.”
“I’m not joking, Carter. Do you have any idea how this will look if it gets out?”
He laughs, something he does far too often. “How’s it gonna get out? We control the media!”
“Not all of it, fuckface.”
“The most important parts anyway.” His tone turns excited. “Hey, do you think I should invite her to dinner? Like send her an email and say my family wants to meet with the board privately, one on one, and give her a date and time to show up at a restaurant, but then I’ll be the only one there and say there was a family emergency so nobody else could make it?”
“Sure. Brilliant. Then you’ll dazzle her with your charm and utter lack of substance and we’ll all be going to your wedding this time next year, is that the plan?”
Ignoring that, he muses, “But what would the family emergency be? I guess I could make up some distant relative who suddenly died.”
I say darkly, “It won’t be such a distant relative if you take another meeting with anyone at TriCast,” and hang up on him.
There’s only so much stupidity I can take in one conversation.
By the time I pull into the underground parking lot at work, I’m in a murderous mood. I lock myself in my office and force myself to focus on business for two hours, until Scotty knocks on my door with an inter-office memo.
I remove the sheet of paper and read what’s written there. Then I take a black marker and write a single word in giant block letters over Shay’s handwriting.
NO.
Seething with frustration from the two phone calls and what’s seeming more and more like a hopeless fantasy about having any kind of workable relationship with Shay, I thrust the envelope back at Scotty and lock myself inside my office for the rest of the day.
Shay
I’m excited to see Scotty appear in my office doorway with the brown kraft envelope in his hand. That excitement lasts until I pull the sheet of paper out, and I see Cole’s response.
A big black NO scrawled across my note like a middle finger.
“Do you have anything for me to return?” asks Scotty, lingering in the doorway.
I force a smile and look at him. “No, but thanks. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
He leaves, taking my self-esteem with him.
In my note, I asked if we could schedule a meeting for this week. “Meeting” being code for quickie in the stairwell. I was feeling flirtatious and upbeat when I sent it, full of hope after this morning that this thing between us wasn’t already over like I thought it was last night, but Cole put the kibosh on all that hope and happiness with two letters.
He didn’t even bother to sign his name. Probably because he didn’t have a good mindfuck closing that meant “Get lost.” Not that he needed it. I got the point.
He changed his mind again.
We’re not going to be together.
Or he decided once and for all, I don’t know which because the man doesn’t know how to communicate except when he’s recounting how he followed me to a restaurant and ordered his buddy to spy on me over security cameras. The rest of the time, it’s vague references to ominous outcomes and cryptic statements that could mean anything or nothing.
Unless we’re having sex. Then he miraculously becomes a professional orator.
I shred the note, then sit at my desk until I’ve lost the urge to smash something. It’s replaced by the urge to cry, which I refuse to give in to, so I bury myself in work.
By five o’clock, I’ve almost convinced myself the hurt, anger, and irrational desire to light Cole McCord on fire are all feelings created by the proximity of my period, which should be arriving any day.
I’ve always been good at denial.
The rest of that week goes by with no contact from Cole.
No inter-office memos, no emails complaining about an error in a report, nothing. Chelsea’s advice is to give him space and focus on myself. We can’t get together to hash it out because the hospital is short-staffed. She’s working back-to-back shifts, and when she’s not working, she’s exhausted.
The office chatter about Dylan dies out. There are no news reports or newspaper articles about a missing accountant. Simone doesn’t mention him again. Life goes on as it did before, except now, I’m obsessing over Cole the way he said he obsessed over me.