Well, okay then. But I remind myself that I’ve been pretty shitty to him. And this situation certainly isn’t going to fix itself so… Summoning bravery I don’t actually possess, I start my apology. “Simon, listen, before we start, I’d like to—”
“We’re on a tight deadline, Elaine. There’s no time for anything that doesn’t directly involve getting this company online ASAP.”
“Yes, of course. I won’t take much time. I just think we need to clear the air. I need to apologize. I—”
“Don’t.” His abrupt tone is softened only slightly by the fact that his glasses keep sliding down his nose. “Look, I’m serious about the deadline. I can’t leave Chesapeake Shores until this project is over, and I need to leave Chesapeake Shores STAT, so I really don’t have the time for your latest round of apologies.”
And ok, I kind of accidentally stomped all over his heart, so the man’s entitled to be pissed....
“In fact, I can pretty much do about 90% of this myself. I’ll work on it and send it to you for final review. Sound good?”
But does he have to be so damn bitchy about it?
He types away on his laptop, seemingly oblivious to the fact I’m still sitting here across from him. Again, I summon that heretofore non-existent bravery. “No.” At the sound of my dissension, he looks straight at me for the first time in two weeks. I clear my throat and soldier on. “No, that doesn’t sound good. I’m sure your editing skills are decent, but they’re not as good as mine, and editing is my job. I’ve been asked to complete this project, and I fully intend to do so. And because we have to work together until February—”
“Not February, just until the job is done. Daryl said it could take that long, but I don’t have that kind of time, so I’m going to bust my ass to get this done before the new year. If you want to bust your ass, too, fine. If not, like I said, I can handle most of this on my own.”
Who knew Simon Walker could be an arrogant prick?
Who knew arrogant prick could be such a turn on?
And his prickishness isn’t scaring me away, though, I’m sure that’s his intention. I am brave. I am fearless. I am undaunted. I am totally bullshitting my way through this, but I’ve got to fake it until I make it, right?
I smile enthusiastically, “My ass is ready to be busted.” Sweet Mother of Heaven. Did I actually say that out loud? My cheeks bloom red, and I’m completely mortified as I steal a glance at Simon. The corner of his mouth is turned up, and he nearly gives into a laugh, but he holds firm and stares me down. “Good to know.” He closes his laptop and prepares to slide it into his messenger bag. Clearly, this meeting is over.
“Simon, please...”
He scratches his head, those floppy curls bouncing. “Feels like I’ve heard those words from you before, but the context was different? I just can’t—Oh, that’s right.” He snaps his fingers and smiles brightly. “That’s what you screamed as you came like a goddamn geyser in your office.”
Ok, he’s fully treading into asshole territory now. And yea, it’s kind of turning me on (geyser was a terribly accurate description), but still…I’ve had enough.
“Right. Ok. So, my initial fears were right on target. You really are a middle schooler. Or maybe just a guy with a pissy attitude and a nasty vocabulary. Either way, not my preferred company.” I stand, clutching my legal pad and pen to my chest. “I realize that I mistreated you. And for that, I am absolutely sorry. You didn’t deserve to be dragged into my drama and toyed with like a yo-yo. That’s on me. And you’ve every right to be pissed. But this petulance? It doesn’t suit you.” I walk out of the conference room, resisting the urge to turn and catch his expression.
Sadly, in my grand exit, I completely and accidentally abandoned my Peppermint Mocha. Dammit.
I WAIT IN THEhallway for just a minute after watching Elaine walk in ahead of me. She hasn’t noticed me, and yea, I’m being a masochistic perv, standing in a hallway watching her ass as she walks into the conference room, but damn. Even after I basically embarrassed myself by showing all my cards, and even after she’d rejected me (twice, in case you’re counting), I’ve still got it bad. And that is why I need to leave Chesapeake Shores as soon as possible, which means banging out this project with Elaine as soon as possible. And note to self: don’t think about banging and Elaine in the same sentence.
And I surely wouldn’t be about ready to walk into a strategy session with Elaine if it weren’t one of Daryl’s conditions for my pending resignation and his financial backing.
After I feel like enough time has passed (and yes, that makes me sound like a creeper), I walk inside. She’s sitting in the corner closest to the door, so I settle into the seat across from her, carefully placing my laptop, so I can avoid looking directly at her. Since when did Elaine Madigan become the sun? Whatever. I’m an idiot. But I’m not moving my laptop. I don’t want to look like even more of an ass.
An awkward silence descends, and I briefly consider asking her about her holiday. Polite chit-chat is called for, right? But then she starts talking; no doubt the silence has gotten to her, too, and I detect the start of an apology. I need to nip that shit in the bud right away. I can’t go down that road right now. If I let her apologize, I’m pretty sure I’ll be on my knees worshipping the valley between her legs and promising to be her dirty, secret lover boy from here to the end of time.
I cut her off. “We’re on a tight deadline, Elaine. There’s no time for anything that doesn’t directly involve this website launch.” Damn. Do I sound like a complete asshole? A brief glance at Elaine’s face answers that in the affirmative.
She speaks again, and again, I verbally bitch-slap her. What the hell? It’s like my mouth has a mind of its own, and that mind is a total douchebag.
She’s trying to be civil, trying to apologize. Trying to clear the air a bit. And I know I should let her say her piece. But my inner toddler takes hold and does the conversational equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and shouting, “I can’t hear you!” So I say, “In fact, I can pretty much do about 90% of this myself. I’ll work on it and send it to you for final review. Sound good?”
Yea, way to win the girl over, Walker. Tell her you can do her job as well as she can and intimate that she’s basically superfluous. The ladies love that shit.
The meeting continues to deteriorate from there. I thought I could do this, but seeing Elaine turns me into a petulant child. It’s like the Hulk, except I morph into an asshole, not a man with superhuman strength.
She keeps talking, because my lady (no, not my lady, not my lady at all) is a talker. Shit. Did she really just say her ass was ready to be busted? Sweet hell. I can’t take much more of this. I need to put an end to the world’s most awkward meeting, so I close my laptop in the hopes that she’ll get my nonverbal clue. She doesn’t. And, at her, “Simon, please…” I snap. I just lose my shit all over the boardroom. I channel my inner dickhead and let loose all the anger and frustration that’s been festering for two weeks.
And now, I feel even worse. I sit and listen while she calls me out. I catch her words and accusations because I’ve earned every second of the verbal lashing she’s dishing out. It hits me at that moment that I’ve been a whiny bitch since we’ve gone our separate ways. And yea, I probably had a right to a little anger and a lot of frustration, but as Elaine shoots me an icy glare and leaves the room, I realize that I had no right to treat her like that. She’s right. My behavior doesn’t suit me.
Sitting alone in the conference room, it’s clear that I owe her an apology. I need to let her have her say. Looking at the half-finished frothy drink in front of me gives me an idea of where to start.
