Page 8 of The Relationship Clause

“I forgot I have a meeting.”

“A meeting? Now? With whom?”

“That’s none of your concern.” I manage to force what I hope to be an apologetic look, even though what I really want to do is blow up at her. I throw some cash onto the table. I have no idea how much my “meal” cost, but at this point, I don’t care. “Good night, Mother.”

“Honey, the resumes!” she calls to my retreating back.

But I don’t care. I leave it all.

By the time I get back to my place, I’m still furious. Part of me wants to lie on the couch with Storm and watch a movie, but the rest of me is still too keyed up to sit still. I exchange my suit and tie for joggers, a t-shirt, and a light jacket, then hit my treadmill. Normally, I prefer jogging around downtown Greenville and the Reedy River, but it’s too cold for that tonight.

I start out at a grueling pace. It’s not sustainable, but it’s what both my mind and body need—motion and distraction in the form of sore muscles and burning lungs.

The longer I go, the more my mind clears. The tension that was in all my muscles takes on a different form, a welcome relief. The stress from the day, the office, the leak in our company, dinner with Mother, it all starts to melt away.

It doesn’t solve anything, but for now, I feel better.

CHAPTER 3

JUNIE

Today, before Mr. TDC comes into the shop, I triple check my teeth in a little hand mirror I borrowed from Kiera late last night.

The prognosis? Squeaky clean, pearly white, non-embarrassing chompers.

But because I’m now super paranoid, I text a picture of my teeth to Kiera as well.

Junie: Make sure you zoom in close. I do NOT want a repeat of yesterday.

Kiera: I zoomed in, and your teeth look great. But you know, the chances of the same embarrassing thing happening two days in a row are slim. It’s more likely you’ll do something completely different this time.

Junie: Gee, thanks. You’re a regular cheerleader.

Kiera: GIF of Snoopy waving pom poms.

Junie: Are you coming to see me this morning?

Keira: Briefly. I’ve got a big meeting I need to be at. See you soon!

“You know what they say about people who drink black coffee, don’t you?”

I jump and almost drop my phone. Stuffing it back into my pocket, I send a glare at my coworker, Marlee, who snuck up behind me. She nearly scared the crazy out of me. Nearly.

I roll my eyes at her statement but still take the bait.

“No, Marlee, what do they say about people who drink black coffee?”

She moves swiftly beside me, handing a customer their order and flicking her pink ponytail behind her flirtatiously. The early morning, before-work crowd rush is in full swing, which means an influx of members of the Marlee Fanclub; all of them young guys with no hope. “People who drink black coffee are more likely to be psychopaths.”

She’s referring, of course, to Mr. TDC’s order. His drink, along with about two dozen others, are currently being arranged in a couple of boxes along with four dozen raspberry pastries. It’s the first Friday of the month which is when someone from Mr. TDC’s work calls in an order for the whole office. Mr. TDC himself should be in soon to pick it up, and my nerves are all jumbled thanks to the embarrassing fiasco from yesterday.

Previous four months notwithstanding, I now have an unmitigated need to prove to him that I do, in fact, know how to brush my teeth like a normal human.

Marlee knows I’ve been crushing on him since the moment I laid eyes on him and is now probably trying to get under my skin.

Probably.

“You’re lying,” I snap.

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