Page 75 of The Relationship Clause

No. Owen deserves better than that. He shouldn’t have to work so hard to hold on to someone. He deserves someone who wants to stay. Someone who’s not a flight risk. He deserves someone better than me.

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I wash my hands. I would love to splash some of the cool water on my face, but I’m certain that would ruin my makeup and make my eyes all red, and then I’d have more questions to answer, not less.

A toilet flushes behind me, and an overly tan woman emerges from a stall, stumbling a bit even though she’s not wearing heels. She gathers her thick, jet-black hair over her shoulder before washing her hands, and a flicker of recognition passes through me. Do I…do I know her somehow? She looks to be in her late forties, early fifties with crows feet at the corners of her hazel eyes. Her lips are thin, and when she smiles, they reveal teeth that are a little too bright against her skin. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s definitely something familiar about her face.

“Hello,” she says. Probably because I’m staring so hard.

I avert my eyes and get more soap, washing my hands again just to have a reason to stick around longer. “Hi, sorry for staring. You just look really familiar to me, and I was trying to figure out if I know you, but what are the odds of that happening, right?”

The woman laughs way louder than the situation warrants. Am I really that funny? “Yeah, what are the odds, right? I mean, you don’t look familiar to me, but maybe I have one of those faces?”

“Maybe…”

I watch as she dries her hands then leans closer to the mirror, inspecting her face. She reaches up and pulls the skin at the edge of her cheeks then her forehead, scrunching and unscrunching her forehead. Something she sees must seem funny to her because she giggles again. That’s when I notice her dilated pupils.

Oooh, she’s drunk. Or, at the very least, tipsy.

“Is this your first time in Vail?” she asks, a little too loudly.

“Yep. First time in Colorado, actually. What about you?” Do I know her from one of my previous jobs somehow? A random acquaintance coworker? I’ve had so many jobs, it’s definitely possible. This is bugging me.

She finishes inspecting the elasticity of her skin and reaches into her clutch, then starts reapplying her mauve lipstick. I pretend I’m inspecting too so I can keep this conversation going a little longer.

“Oh, I’ve been coming for a few years now.” She waves a hand through the air. The tip of her lipstick hits the mirror, and she curses, rubbing at the little spot, which only makes it smudge worse.

I probably don’t know her from a job. She’d recognize me too, and she already said I don’t look familiar. Maybe I’ve seen her around the resort already and didn’t realize it. Or could she possibly be a celebrity? Someone who hasn’t been in anything big, but with a few speaking parts?

“Are you from the South?” she asks, giving up on the mirror smudge. “Kind of sounds like you’ve got an accent.”

I nod, trying not to get too distracted from the conversation. “South Carolina.” I’m kind of surprised she noticed an accent at all. I feel like mine is so light compared to so many other Southerners.

“No way!” Her eyes go big, and she leans toward me against the bathroom counter. “That’s where my daughter lives.”

Oooh, so maybe I know her daughter and that’s why she looks so familiar. It would make sense. The tune of It’s a Small World starts playing in my head. Great. I’ll be humming myself to sleep with that song tonight.

The woman goes on. “She moved there last year to work for some tech company, but she won’t be there much longer.”

I’m like a dog whose ears perk up at the word “walk.”

“Really? Do you remember what the company was called?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know. Ensure or Emanate or something?” She waves her hand around. “It started with an E, I think. They deal with 3D printers.”

I nearly slip and bang my forehead against the mirror. “O-oh. Wow. Um, that’s pretty cool.” That’s what I say out loud anyway. In my head, my thoughts are zooming at breakneck speed, jumping to all the conclusions.

Could she mean Em3rge? What would the odds be of that? She said her daughter lived in South Carolina, but she didn’t say where in South Carolina. It could be another company that works with 3D printers. One that starts with an E. That’s possible, right?

But maybe that’s why I recognize her. She looks like someone I work with. That’s the most plausible reason. I sift through the women I know from work, trying to place their images next to this woman’s face. No one immediately comes to mind, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

If that is true and her daughter works at Em3rge, so what? I’ve probably met her and she’s a perfectly nice, respectable person. A person who doesn’t plan on working there much longer…

Why does that part make me the most worried of all?

“Emerge!” The woman spears her lipstick into the air triumphantly. “That’s the name of the company: Emerge.” She giggles again as she flies her lipstick through the air like it’s an airplane, capping it, and flying it into her clutch again.

My eyes go wide. “Oh? Um, and why won’t she be working there much longer?”

“Shhhh.” She puts her finger to her lips, shushing me so loudly and forcefully, some spit escapes her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Shhhh. Not supposed to tell anybody.” She giggles again.

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