Page 20 of The Moment We Know

“Anyway, I took something for it at lunch, so my headache is mostly gone, but the medication makes me really tired. So, as appealing as the idea of going out to dinner and spending time with you tonight is, I just want to go home and take a bath, then sleep for ten hours, to be honest.”

There was a lengthy moment of silence, in which he tossed a few ideas around in his head. His desire to salvage the evening and see her was still his main priority, but now there was also the desire to take care of her, even if it was in a small way. “How about this? I’ll grab something for us to eat and come by your place at 6 p.m. That way, we can still have dinner and spend some time together,” he suggested. “Then you can take your bath and go to bed.”

“All right,” she agreed softly. “That sounds really good, actually. I’ll see you at 6 p.m.”

Chapter 6

Paige had barely gotten Sputnik fed when David knocked on her door. Normally, she would’ve made him sweat it out a bit before letting him in because it was fun, but she decided not to, mainly because she knew he was even more anxious about seeing Mrs. Harte after last week. Even though she hadn’t brought up the awkward encounter she’d had with Paige, that didn’t mean Mrs. Harte wouldn’t bring it up with David if she saw him.

When Paige opened the door, she was immediately grateful for being so quick to let David in. He was holding a bag in each hand—one of which bore the Panera Bread logo—and she practically dragged him inside her apartment.

“Is that broccoli cheddar soup?” she asked, sniffing the air like a bloodhound as she closed the door.

“Yes, it is.”

Ignoring the smaller, unmarked bag, Paige grabbed the one from Panera Bread out of David’s hand in an appalling display of manners and dashed to the kitchen island, leaving him behind in the hallway.

“Sorry,” she apologized as she tore open the paper bag and pulled out a couple of sandwiches, two big containers of soup, and plastic spoons. There was also a giant chocolate chip cookie, which she took the liberty of commandeering and immediately started eating.

“That’s for your dessert—” He broke off when she gave him the stink eye. “Or, it can be an appetizer,” he amended.

After making short work of the cookie, Paige picked up a plastic spoon and started in on the soup, almost before David had even sat down. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. And thank you for letting me in so quickly.”

“You’re welcome.”

While they ate, he asked about her day, wanting to hear about it in greater detail.

“Well, along with the headache, two of my waitstaff called in sick,” Paige told him around bites of food. “Then there was a problem with the big coffee maker, so fifty small pots of coffee had to be made, and all the glassware was spotted, which meant a hundred glasses needed to be wiped down for this stupid luncheon that ended up running two hours long because their guest speaker wouldn’t shut the fuck up. So because of that, the only thing I had time to eat for lunch was a granola bar that I found in my desk, which had probably been there since the last presidential election, and I picked the wrong day to wear my flats. You’d think flats would be more comfortable than heels, but they’re not, and I was on my feet most of the day, so now everything hurts—”

“Give me your feet.”

His brusque interruption made her blink. “What?”

“Give me your feet.”

This time it was said more gently, as he motioned to his lap. Seeing that he was serious, Paige leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on his thighs. Since she wasn’t wearing any socks, it saved him the trouble of removing them and he was able to immediately begin rubbing one of her bare feet, making her eyes close in bliss.

“Where was your boss during all this?” David wanted to know.

“Well, she arrived around 10 a.m., which is pretty standard, and hung out in her office until it was time to go out to lunch and then left at 3 p.m.”

“Your boss is really shitty.”

His fingers were giving her equal amounts of pleasure and pain as he dug into her arch, and Paige’s response came out a little slow. “She is. I truly hate her. She hasn’t worked a weekend in three years and the hours she puts in during the week is about equal to what I put in for overtime. Unpaid overtime, since I’m a salaried employee.”

“So, basically you do all the work.”

She nodded.

“Why do you stay?”

“Jules asks me the same thing at least once a month. My standard answer is that I need the paycheck, although I think the real reason is because work doesn’t interfere too much with my life,” she said, before adding, “since there isn’t much in my life to interfere with.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?”

“No. But …” Paige opened her eyes, searching for the right words. “We’re temporary. This isn’t real life.”

---