Suddenly, a horrifying question occurs to me. Is an admin going to be part of the London team? And, if so, who will he pick? Leslie? Oh, gosh, I don’t know how I’d bear that.
When it appears that all of the speeches are over, I decide I’ve fulfilled my promise to myself to be brave. I slink to my desk, thankful for all the empty cubes around me. I’m slumped there with my fingers against my eyes, mentally trying to go to a happy place that doesn’t involve Jude. Or anybody else, for that matter. I picture myself sitting in the centerfield bleachers at Wrigley, all alone but not lonely. Just at peace.
“I’d like to take you with me.” A voice behind me makes me jump.
I remove my hands from my eyes and sit up straight, but I don’t turn around or say anything.
“That is, if you’re amenable to going.”
A strong person with a voice takes over my otherwise-useless body. “Hmm. Well, I don’t think that’s meant to be.” Good reply, I silently approve of myself. But don’t ask who he’s going to take instead, whatever you do. I have to bite down on my lip to follow my own instructions.
After a long pause, he says, “I, uh, guess we’re just going to make do without a secretary at first, then. I’m sure we can do most things electronically with the ladies here until we get really busy.” I hear him drumming his fingers against the metal on the top of the cubicle wall.
“Administrative assistant,” I automatically correct him.
“Come again?”
“We’re administrative assistants, not secretaries.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Conspicuously, I start moving papers on my desk and getting to work on actual jobs that have piled up this morning while I’ve been busy preparing for the big announcement. When I haven’t heard anything from him for a while, I chance a peek over my shoulder. He’s still standing there, leaning against the wall, one hand casually in his pocket, his feet crossed at the ankles.
“Can I help you?” I ask pointedly.
I seem to have startled him out of a daydream. “Huh? Oh. No. I s’pose not. Although…” He hesitates, but when I raise my eyebrows, he decides to go on. “I was only wondering… would you be willing to help me out the next couple of weeks, if I need it? You know, around here?”
Ever the professional, I reply, “Sure.”
“You don’t think it’ll be awkward as arse, do you?”
“Probably,” I admit. “But… I don’t know. If you need help, you need help. It’s kind of my job.”
He nods. “Of course. But I can always ask Leslie or…”
At her name, I turn my back to him again. I slam a binder particularly loudly against my desk as I set it aside. “Whatever, Jude. It’s your baby.” As soon as the sentence leaves my mouth, I regret it. “Project, I mean. Whatever.”
“Okay. Ace. I’ll simply… er… leave you alone now.”
“Wait!” I spin in my chair again.
“Yes?” He comes to such an abrupt stop that he almost trips. He returns to the entrance to my cubicle.
“I just… I forgot to tell you ‘congratulations.’ You deserve it. And… I’m happy for you.”
He flashes the saddest grin I’ve ever seen. I make a conscious effort not to look at his dimple. “Oh, right. Well, thanks. Ironic, though, isn’t it?”
I cock my head questioningly, so he explains, “I took this job to get away from there.”
“But you’re glad to be going back, right? That’s what you said in the meeting.”
He shrugs. “Eh. It’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, I suppose, but I merely said that because that’s what everyone expects me to say. I’m happy here. Or I was, anyway.” He deliberates for a second, then says, “Yeah. I guess it’s for the best, after all.”
I nod with difficulty. “Well, I should probably get back to work.” I hear people making their way back to their desks.
“Yeah. Absolutely. I’ll, uh…” He backs away awkwardly.
After he leaves, I finally take a full breath. My heart races as it struggles to get enough oxygen. I can’t believe it’s only been two days since we broke up. We sound like a couple who’s adjusted to a shaky truce after months of separation. It suddenly strikes me as both sad and funny. And completely abnormal.
In other words, typically me.
24
I’m totally convinced that Leslie and Jude really did sleep together, although I’ll never confront Jude about it. It’s not really my place anymore to care about who he sleeps with, now or ever, as long as he wasn’t doing it while we were together. And I’m sure he wasn’t. But my certainty that he did at some time is bolstered by Leslie’s latest hobby of casually dropping intimate details about him into conversation when she’s near me.
“What’s the deal with that scar on the inside of his thigh? You know, right near his junk? I didn’t get around to asking him about that.”
“Missionary’s not really my favorite position, but some people really like it, huh, Libby?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been with a guy who doesn’t like tattoos… Oh, wait.” Pointed look at me. “Just one, but he was kind of a square.”
Now that I expect her to say these things, I’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding and ignoring her, but there were some cat-fight close calls the first few times (particularly when she asked about the scar). The only thing that keeps me from reacting is that I know she wants me to. And I’ll be damned if I’ll give her the satisfaction.
I can’t believe Jude hasn’t told her to shut up. Surely, in this place, he’s heard from someone what she’s saying. Although…
