Page 44 of Company Ink

"Don't worry, Cassandra, he uses salt." He places his meal into the microwave for three minutes. "Hurry up and order something. It would be rude for me to eat in front of you."

I quickly select two sushi rolls from a Japanese restaurant down the street and press order. "Are you actually not going to eat until my food arrives?" I ask.

"I'll wait.”

"But it's going to take like fifteen minutes for my sushi to arrive," I point out. "Your food will get cold."

Blake tilts his head and grins. "Then I'll reheat it."

"Why did you heat-it up in the first place then?" I ask, not following his logic whatsoever.

Blake chuckles. "You ask a lot of questions, Cassandra."

"Maybe because you don't make a lot of sense." I cross my arms defensively.

Blake's blue eyes soften. "I guess you're just going to have to figure me out," he says playfully.

"I've never been good at puzzles."

"That's funny," Blake chuckles, his bright eyes scanning my face intently. "Neither have I."

seventeen

bombs and bullshit

I have never in my life had so many papercuts. They're everywhere. Constant little reminders that I have been slaving away, for almost two days, trying to digitize all of Adrian's documents. I hate paper. I hate fingers. But mostly I hate Adrian.

Aside from sending me relatively passive-aggressive emails, I've barely spoken to him since our encounter in the boardroom. When I got back from discussing Client Appreciation Night with Blake, which was a total disaster, Adrian's blinds were closed, and I didn't see him for the rest of the day. Not that I even had time to think about it because Nancy, bless her little detail-oriented soul, barely had anything planned for Pearson & Associates' biggest event of the year. Sure, we have a venue and catering, but there is so much more that goes into an event other than location and food! The girl didn't even have a theme! Thankfully, Monique's obsession with Leonardo DiCaprio sparked an idea last night and I can't wait to share it with Blake. I hope he goes for it... but he doesn't particularly strike me as a flapper fan.

I lock up Adrian's filing cabinet and head back to my desk. He decided to take an early lunch so I could organize his files without 'bothering him'. I wasn't aware that the sound of paper shuffling was such a nuisance! Tossing all the documents on my desk, I pull out a little grey box from my bottom drawer and put it into my purse. I hope my dad likes his gift.

Checking the time, I hustle out of the office and jog down the street to The Pink Elephant. I hope the service here is fast because I only have an hour for lunch. Even though an hour isn't enough time to cover all the shit that's happened in the last three months, I'm actually really looking forward to seeing my parents. I thought that once they retired, I'd be able to see them more often, but it turned out the exact opposite. Apparently, they're too busy renovating the back porch and playing golf for visits, let alone phone calls. My mom's never been a chatty person but now she's practically a mute.

The hostess seats me at a table in the middle of the restaurant. I was expecting my mom and dad to be here already, but I guess they're running late. Looking around at the fuchsia-colored walls, pink leather furniture, and gold detailing, I can't help but take out my phone and snap a couple of Instagram-worthy shots.

It's not long before I see my mother stumble through the front door looking as beautiful as ever; shoulder-length curled blonde hair, her makeup done to perfection, dressed in a classy midi-dress, and a chunky white cardigan. If someone were to see her on the street, they would never be able to guess that she's pushing sixty.

"Mom!" I exclaim, standing up and wrapping her in a tight embrace. "You're here." I look past her shoulder. "Where's dad? Is he parking the car? I think there's parking in the back if he can't find anything out front."

My mother hugs me back, frowning as she pulls away. "Your dad can't make it, dear. He got held up at the bank."

All my excitement fades away as we sit down. "He's not coming?" I ask quietly. "But I haven't seen him in forever."

My mom's forest-green eyes soften. "He told me to tell you that he's sorry and that he'll call you soon to chat."

I scoff, crossing my arms. "Right. He's going to call. Sure."

"Cassandra!" My mom narrows her eyes, scolding me. "Your dad wanted to be here. It's not his fault that his appointment is running late. Blame the Bank of America,not him."

"Why do you always defend him?" I ask, my hands starting to sweat. "He would have scheduled an earlier appointment if he really wanted to be here. He just doesn't care."

"He cares, dear." My mother tries to reach for my hand, but I pull away. "He just has a difficult time showing it."

I roll my eyes. "Dad hasn't cared about me since he found out your test-tube baby was a girl."

My mom slams her hand on the table, shaking the centerpiece. "Stop that. Right now! We're not having this conversation again." Mom takes a deep breath and straightens out her necklace. "You are twenty-four years old Cassie, when will you stop accusing your father of not loving you? What has he done to ever make you feel like that? Huh? He paid for your college, he bought you everything you've ever wanted. He even offered to buy you a condo when you graduated, which if I remember correctly, you said you didn't want."

"Just because he buys me shit doesn't mean he loves me." I chuckle with disbelief. "But of course,you'dfeel that way."

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