“You okay?” I venture.
She sighs. “What if he thinks I’m redundant?” she whispers to me.
I lean forward and set down my mug. “Nope. No. You’re the backbone of the entire AI project. Without you, there would be no Wanda.”
“But”—her chin trembles—“he’s the one who broke up with me.”
Asshole.
My hands clench, and I try to smooth them on the surface of my desk so they don’t feel so much like fists. “That has nothing to do with the quality of your work. Anyway, who did what isn’t important.”
Greer’s forehead furrows, and little spots of color rise on her cheeks. “It’s just so damn embarrassing. Like something about me wasn’t good enough. And now I have to be reminded of it every day.”
“Hey,” I say firmly. “Don’t start that. Everything about you is good enough.”
She looks down quickly and blushes. “Thank you,” she says.
“It’ll all be okay.” I lean forward conspiratorially. “We’ll just ignore him.”
She sighs and swings her gaze back to me. “I wish it were that easy. With this re-org, it looks like we’ll have to deal with him a lot more, and now there are all of these extra holiday work parties to go to. Alone.”
“There’s nothing wrong with going solo.”
She gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I still have a little pride, Locke. It would be excellent to maintain a shred of dignity.”
Something inside me empathizes with her, and the words fly out of my mouth before I consider what they might mean. “I’ll help.”
Greer raises an eyebrow, and the first hint of a smile dances on her lips. “How exactly are you going to do that?”
I shrug at her. “I’ll go as your plus one, or whatever. To the parties.” At this point, Eden can’t claim I’m getting in Greer’s way, and anyway, Greer’s smart enough to make her own decisions. “What do we have? A Secret Santa office party and then some fancy thing, right? No big deal.”
Greer just blinks at me for a minute with pink cheeks and an unreadable expression.
Oh god. Did I ruin it?
“It’ll be an even trade,” I hurry to add. “You can come to a few of my family things. My mom throws a big holiday party, and I can’t go another year with my grandma asking me why I’ll still single.”
Actually, the more I say it, the more I realize it’s true. Holidays are their own form of torture for me, especially in the five years since my dad passed away. My grandparents, my parents, and my sister have all had these perfect relationships, and since I never have, I feel like every year I show up solo is another year I disappoint them. If I bring a date, though, maybe I can slip through this season unscathed.
The spell breaks, and Greer tilts her head. Her eyes flash with amusement. “Why are you still single?”
Loaded question.
I don’t talk about my love life much with Greer because it feels too much like acknowledging that I’m not with her. But I’ve danced around the topic enough that she knows that single and celibate aren’t the same things for me. I’m great at going on dates. I’m not so great at dating a single person. So while I’m able to satisfy my more base desires, I don’t exactly have someone I can bring home to grandma.
My voice comes out kind of strangled. “Just haven’t convinced the right girl to fall for me yet.”
Greer snorts and blows her bangs off her forehead. “You sure this isn’t just a pity invite?”
“Oh no. My family’s vicious.” I smile so she knows I’m teasing.
“I’ll think about it,” she hedges.
I tap the surface of my desk. “So that’s a yes.”
“That’s a maybe, Locke. I need a minute to contemplate my impending spinsterhood.” Her lower lip pouts out in a way that makes me think a little too much about what else her lips might do.
I drag my glance back up to her eyes before I get carried away. “Spinsterhoodlessness.”
Greer laughs, and my chest feels warm. “That’s not a word.”
“I just said it, therefore it’s a word.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she turns back to her computer.
Mission accomplished.
I lean back in my chair and don’t even try to hide my grin. “I’ll text you the date. Grandma’s going to love you.”
3 Greer
I drop into my office chair on Wednesday on time and bolstered with more caffeine than normal to help me face the day.
“Happy Hump Day, bitches.”
Working on Wanda’s dialogue means part of my job is looking through all the things that people say to the bot, which means looking at lots of the scum of the internet. I’m often a little more loosey-goosey in my language than people in other departments get to be, but hey—my entire job is not safe for work, so it comes with the territory.
It also makes my job really freaking fun.
Locke smirks at me. “Someone’s feeling feisty for today’s meet and greet with the new boss.”
Yesterday, the unfortunate news came in that any employees in a department affected by the re-org would be required to have one-on-one meetings with their new managers. Meaning I’ll have to face Damien for the first time since Birthday Breakupgate. At least my pity pimple has calmed down.
I raise my coffee mug to my lips in defiance. “Someone’s determined not to let her less-than-favorable schedule bring her down.” I take a swig of coffee, then lean forward and lower my voice. “You know, you should be running the writing team. You’ve been with the company longer than Damien, and you know way more about what the writers actually do.”
A frown flashes over Locke’s face, but then he smooths it away and shrugs. “I’d love to help shape the direction of the writing team, but there are lots of ways to do that. And there wasn’t actually an open position here. We just got shifted around.”
“No.” I shake my head. Locke is talented and good at his job, and he
