“Happy birthday, by the way. Want to get lunch?”
“Thanks.” I glanced again at the protein bar with the silly candle taped to it. I hadn’t opened it yet, liking how it looked on my desk. “Yeah, sure.”
“What’s really going on with Kelsey?” Cord thumbed at the file of information Mason had left on his desk, filled with projections and engagement demographics. “Got the sense there was something you weren’t saying. You looked like you were holding back a Hulk-smash kind of reaction when you told us what she said.”
“She . . .” I paused and looked around. I had done nothing wrong, but I still didn’t want Mason or anyone else to know. “She came on to me when she brought up the business proposal.”
“Seriously?”
“She implied we should get back together in addition to merging.”
“You haven’t been on speaking terms for years. What the hell happened when you guys had lunch?” Cord had been privy to everything between me and Kelsey—becoming friends, dating, hooking up, and he was one of the few people to know I’d planned to propose to her. He’d seen the breakup and all the fallout. “You didn’t sleep with her, did you? I’ve never had to ask you this about so many women in such a short time.”
I glowered at him.
“Can we get back to her wanting to go into business with us?”
Cord shrugged and dropped his chin into his hands. “I dunno. She’s smart, but she’s . . .”
“Kelsey,” I finished. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. I had two missed texts—the first made me crack a smile; the second made my fingers twitch.
Britta: I hurt. I’m broken. I will never run again. finishes complaining How is your day?
Kelsey: Haven’t heard from you. Let’s talk more about my suggestions over dinner or at my place.
I dismissed Britta’s message and handed my phone across the desk.
Cord’s expression soured as he read the text. “Gonna go?”
“I should tell her I’m sending you instead.”
“I’d rather stick my dick in a pit of snakes.”
My phone buzzed in Cord’s hand, and I leaned forward to grab it but wasn’t fast enough. “Ooh, who is Britta?”
“Are you twelve? Give me my phone back.”
“BTW, I wasn’t kidding. I am sore from this morning. You broke me.” Cord read the text in a high voice and then smirked. “Damn. No wonder you’re not taking Kelsey up on her offer to hook up.”
“Shut up. It’s my client. I worked out with her this morning.”
His smirk faded. “Wait, the woman from the hospital? You’re still seeing her?”
“I’m not seeing her.” I grabbed my phone from his hand. “We’re working out in person. She knows it’s separate from the FitMi program.” I watched my friend’s reaction closely and reminded myself to specify with her it wasn’t part of the program. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It actually is. I trust you, man, but are you sure it’s just working out? You seem . . . different. Better, really, and I gotta believe that has something to do with her.”
“It’s just the gym, and yeah, I do feel better. You were right about picking up a couple clients.” My phone buzzed again on the desk between us, and we both glanced down. “Working on this project with the school, the thing for the kids, too.”
“You’ll tell me if there’s something I need to know about the woman, though?” The crease in his brow gave away his skepticism, but he dropped it when I nodded. “Okay. You gonna respond to Kelsey?”
“What the hell do I say?”
“You know I hate to admit Mason is right, but he might have a point about merging.”
My phone buzzed again, though it was facedown on the desk.
“As for getting back together?” he said, looking at the pinging notification on his computer desktop. “Fuck. I gotta take care of this. I don’t know, man. Leave it alone. Maybe just . . . don’t respond.”
I sat back in my chair for a minute and stared at the messages before typing out a reply. If I were smart, I’d ignore both women. Kelsey and I had a history. We understood each other on some level, and Britta was . . . I wasn’t sure what Britta was—her smile left me confident I could do anything, but she was a client. I glanced at the protein bar she’d given me, sitting on my desk. When she’d pulled it out, an unexpected wave of emotion had hit me. When I was a kid, there wasn’t money to really celebrate birthdays, and Mom usually didn’t remember anyway. I’d been fingering the candle all day, unsure why it meant so much and not wanting to open it yet.