Mother: My Yoga instructor swears by this cleanse she does. Would you like her number?
Me: No, thanks. I’m happy with myself just as I am.
Mother: Elaine, don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re happy—you’re probably in a sugar coma.
Me: Stop.
Mother: Darling, I just want what’s best for you.
Me: What’s best for me is to stop listening to your negativity.
I look at the phone in my hand, proud of myself for not listening to her garbage.
I’m startled from the revelry of recognizing my own self-worth when there’s a knock at the door.
“You coming out for drinks? We’re celebrating that new contract.” Molly stands in my doorway, looking all kinds of gorgeous in knee-high boots and a shirtdress.
“Can’t. Simon and I are almost finished with phase one, and with any luck, we’ll wrap it up tonight.”
“So...that’s going okay? Or is it awful and awkward?”
“I told you at lunch today that it’s fine. And that was only what? Four hours ago? What could change in four hours?”
“The fact that we’re alone and not in a restaurant that half of our coworkers also frequent.”
“Good point. But the answer’s the same. It’s fine.”
“That is so much bullshit.”
“Complete and total bullshit. But, I figure if I keep telling myself that, I might start to believe it.”
“Good luck with that. And text me if you feel like meeting up. We’re starting at Martinis, but we’ll probably make our way down to Snark later.”
I nod absentmindedly, and I have no doubt Molly registers my brush off. My attention turns to my to-do list. It’s closing in on 5:30, and as soon as Simon gets here, we can get started. We might even finish by 8 or 9. And no, I won’t be swinging by the bar on my way home, but that won’t stop Molly from texting me later tonight. I’ve got a bottle of wine, a warm blanket, and a deliciously salacious new book to keep me company tonight. I seriously can’t wait to start that book. It released early, and it’s the last in a series, and the hero is a broody asshole, who should be irredeemable, and—
“Elaine? Hey, Elaine? You ok?” Simon stands before me, tie askew and a Chestnut Praline Latte in tow.
“Oh, hey. Yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming.”
“I hear you. It’s been a long week. You sure you don’t mind staying tonight?”
“Nope, I’m good. I’d like to get this part finished, so we can start fresh on Monday. And thanks for this,” I gesture to the drink as I pick it up.
“No problem. And I already did the pre-lims for the last part of phase one, so it shouldn’t take more than an hour or two to finish this up.” He smiles, and yes, that dimple still kills me.
We work in tandem and with efficiency for over an hour. It’s pretty much been our pattern all week. Yes, things were stilted at first, and we sort of stumbled around one another, but once we found a rhythm, we’ve been working in sync. Our conversations flow easily, and we tease each other, testing the waters more each day, and making our way back to a friendship of sorts. It’s just like old times, except now I have intimate knowledge of what it feels like to come apart on his mouth.
Yea, things are fine...
And yes, friendship is all I’m after. We will go our separate ways and remain on friendly terms, and if I happen to fantasize about his arms or lips or tongue or… well, a girl can keep her fantasies, right?
Simon hits a key with a flourish and leans back in his chair. “Phase one...is done.” A satisfied smile graces his lips.
“You’re amazing,” I say,without thinking, but it’s true, so I don’t cover it up with apologies or embarrassment. See? Progress. He blushes, but my compliment stands.
“So… that means we can start on the final steps on Monday. That will mostly involve all the intuitive stuff—and I can start on that this weekend.”
“You mean the stuff where you get into the shopper’s head? Like, say for instance that I’m browsing lobster-embroidered aprons,”
