Page 79 of Company Ink

About Adrian.

And about Blake.

twenty-seven

something to taco bout

"Cassie! Stop laughing! This is an emergency, what the hell am I supposed to do?" Monique cries.

I duck my head so Kitty and David can't see that I'm talking on my phone during work. "It's just two pounds, girl! It's not going to make a difference."

"What if my dress doesn't fit?! I can't afford any more tailoring! God, this is all Matt's mother's fault. She's making me stress eat!"

Oh. My. God. I never thought I'd live to see the day that Monique loses her composure. Ever since we were kids, I've always been the spazzy one and she was the rock. Oh, how the tables have turned.

"Okay, Mon, you really need to relax! You look the same, thinner even! It's probably just water weight from all the miso soup we ate last night. It'll be fine," I reassure her in a whisper. "If you'rethatconcerned just go get a lymphatic drainage massage." I pause. "I'll pay! My gift to you, just please stopfreakingout!"

This is why people shouldnotget married, it turns everyone into demonic aliens. Even though when Monique says, 'I do' an entire chapter of my life will close, I'm starting to count down the days, at least then I'll have my best friend back.

This past weekend, I wanted so badly to talk to her about this whole Adrian/Blake fiasco, but we literally had no time. When we weren't deciding between fourteen shades of purple for the tablecloths or trying to hunt down the cheapest yet most realistic looking fake flowers, we were having lunch with the wedding party, half of whom didn't even show up!

"Okay, you're right, you're right," Monique says in a frenzied tone. "I need to chill. I think I need to go and lay down; I feel dizzy."

"Yes, go lay down. Put on some Sade and do a face mask, that always helps me."Ortake a freaking tab of lorazepam.

Monique mumbles something incoherently and hangs up the phone. I sit up straight and get back to work. I'm not sure if something is going on at the executive level at the firm, but every lawyer has been cooped up in their office for the last two days. Other than a couple of run ins by the water cooler, I've barely spoken to Adrian or Blake since the gala.

I don't even knowhowto talk to Adrian now; I've severed whatever it was that was linking us together. It's not like he's been rude or cold, he's just been—professional. I can't even be mad, I told him to stop, I demanded it. But I honestly didn't think that he'd listen.

Just a little past noon, Blake shows up at my desk, peering down at me over the divider, his eyes glossy and red. I can envision how bugged out Kitty and David must look like right now. Blakenevercomesdown this way,ever.

"Please don't ever go into law, Cassandra," he mumbles. "Just don't do it. It's not worth it."

I tilt my head. "Rough day?" I ask, leaning back into my chair.

"Think Franz Ferdinand getting assassinated and multiply that by ten," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I laugh. "Okay, I think you're being a little dramatic. You can't seriously compare your day to the event that was the catalyst for World War One."

"Yet somehow I feel like I'm in the trenches," he murmurs. "It's been non-stop since Saturday morning."

"You worked the weekend? Man, your job reallydoessuck. I'm sorry."

Blake lets out a deep breath. "I don't know how my father did it. He was always so happy and energetic,andhe was home for dinner. Hell, the man never missed a single football game when I was a kid, and hereIam, on the precipice of quitting my own firm."

"Awe," I pout, a part of me incredibly envious of his father. "Maybe you should take a break. Go get something to eat or...take a nap."

"Funny you should say that." Blake pulls out a pamphlet from his pocket and drops it on my desk. "Page four, open it."

I narrow my eyes suspiciously as I flip through the summer edition of See Seattle until I reach the fourth page. "Taco Fest?" I read.

Blake nods, a light grin on his face. "Yes, apparently there's a food truck festival happening today down by Pike Place."

"Youwant to get tacos?" I let out an amused chuckle. "I'm impressed Mr. Pearson, that's a lot of flavor for a guy like you."

"I'm evolving, what can I say?" Blake nods towards the elevators. "So? Tacos?"

"You want to go...together?"

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