Page 6 of Yours, Truly

Later that afternoon I couldn't wait to start brainstorming the new skincare range campaigns as I received a box of the new collection for Spring from a well-known brand. My attention was pulled away by the chatter now circulating the office. The atmosphere had suddenly turned tense, worried faces speculating the unusual office drama.

At my desk I examined the room, Francine leaned over to inform me the commotion was a client trying to sue the company for a breach in contract, but instead of this being an insignificant leverage it had escalated into a massive lawsuit that could destroy the reputation of this company. Usually, a client would do this to make some noise, avoid paying for the work just before our project releases ready for launch. It would usually brush over in a day or so but a lawsuit sounded like it could last weeks, even months. Angelina would usually have it under control, minimising the disruption and keeping it under the radar but for some reason this one was creating a wildfire in the office.

Angelina was strong, she’d played this game more than once, never a pushover, and our legal team would be acting quickly on this as we had the best lawyers in London. However, thecommotion was more intense and rumours were spreading faster this time round. Usually as deputies, Jennifer and I would have been made aware and we would be able to shut this down but this time none of us knew what was going on which only made the whole thing worse. We looked over at each other shrugging, not sure what was going on, just watching. We would have to wait until Angelina’s office was free before we asked questions.

Standing up behind my desk, I looked over at Angelina's office out of curiosity just as the door opened. Sipping my coffee from the large speckled white mug, subtly watching the events unfold, and there, in the distance illuminated by the sunlight that leaked out the office was a figure.

A tall, handsome stranger suited up from head to toe, a black leather briefcase in his right hand, olive skin. I studied him a little harder until he became familiar. He shook Angelina's hand and turned to find the exit, glancing my way. The thick coffee curls perfectly positioned into place just like they had been the night we had met, framing his chiselled face. It was him. The stranger from the hotel. I never forgot his face.

As he turned, his gaze caught mine, pausing for just a moment, his eyes turning dark for a split second before he cleared his throat and proceeded to leave. My heart was hammering in my chest, my throat constricting as I subtly gasped for air. This was impossible, it couldn’t be him.Was this a one in a million chance or was I just hoping it was him?

The romantic in me was just trying to manifest what I desired and working to create something like a romantic dream. My head was all over the place, to the point where I had started to feel like I was crazy. Iwantedto see him again so I had clearly manifested an image of him.

“I wouldn't mind being in trouble with him,” Francine stated as she bit her lip in his direction before fanning herself with her notebook, practically drooling. Francine reacted this way about anything that had a pulse, even the maintenance man who came to fix the copier last week. She was the definition of a man eater.Was I jealous?Yes, I was! Jealousy consumed me over the idea that my co-worker viewed him as a piece of meat. I couldn’t even talk myself out of this nonsense. If this was reality, then I was jealous that he might show an interest in someone else, thinking of him making someone else feel the way he made me feel. The lump in my throat formed, a sick gut feeling appeared.

I popped my coffee on the desk. It was a short glance but I was sure that was him. I looked back towards where he was standing; he was gone. My mind was confused, I had to know. I snatched my coat from the chair, flung my bag on my shoulders and grabbed my phone.

“I'm going to lunch,” I called over to Francine who was already back to work.

“Enjoy,” she replied, oblivious to the urgency in my actions.

Casually, I strolled through the corridor not wanting to draw any attention to myself before rushing into the lift, frantically pressing the ground floor button.I need to see if it is him. Imean if it was, what would I do? What would I say?

This was insane to be this invested, this hopeful. I tried to practice some speeches in my head of what I could say. Praying that my mind was playing tricks on me, all to avoid the embarrassment I had yet to discover. I burst out the office door, the busy London traffic greeting me. The roaring noise of cars and buses rushed past, a contrast from the peaceful office just a few feet from it. I froze on the pavement by the office door and scanned the area until I landed on my target.

It was him. He was putting his stuff in the matte pitch-black Porsche positioned roadside, a couple of cars down. It was close enough to get a clear view but far enough not to be able to speak. His hand rested on the top of the door as he flung the briefcase into the passenger seat along with his suit jacket exposing his crisp white shirt; identical to the one he wore that night. He threw on some inky sunglasses just as he glanced back towards the office.He noticed me.

He gave a brief smile before climbing into the car and speeding off into the city. The loud rumbling sound of the Porsche disappeared, blending in with the midday London traffic.

My heart broke a little as he disappeared out of sight. I needed a moment to catch my breath. My hair blew in the slight breeze grounding me and I steadied my breathing, convincing myself that it wasn't him. I'm sure he would have said hello or something. Or maybe it was him and it simply would have been too awkward. If I’m honest, I'm not sure what happens in thesesituations.

Maybe it was best if it wasn’t him; I would never know now anyway. The thoughts swirled around my head; I needed to regain control and make it through the rest of the day. Defeated, I wandered to my usual coffee shop to grab a chicken salad and latte for lunch, as I normally did, before taking my daily stroll along Westminster bridge to take in the sunshine and watch the calmness of the Thames. Waiting for Big Ben to chime to signify the end of my lunch hour before I returned to the unknown chaos.

6

THE OBSESSION

As predicted the next couple of weeks flew by but I couldn't stop thinking about that day at the office. Was it him that I saw or was it a figment of my imagination playing on the fact that I wanted my life to be a romance novel? My head was spinning thinking that out of millions of workplaces he just so happened to come to mine. And if it was him, why was he there? The unknown was driving me insane. I was obsessed that if he knew where I worked and he really wanted my name he would come back or wait outside.

The image of his eyes locking with mine ignited my heart a little. It made my body tingle remembering his touch, his lips, the thrill of the chase feeling that it gave me to run out the office hoping he would be waiting for me, that he remembered me, before that ache in my heart as he gave one last glance, driving away.Maybe it’s for the best.

Every time I left the office it became an obsession to retrace my steps. Retrace that moment as if it was a movie playing out in front of me, hoping he would be outside the office, leaningarrogantly against his car for a chance to see me again. That boastful smirk of his forming, I would run into his arms and he would kiss me with such passion and a cheesy line like ‘I can’t believe I found you! You’ve been on my mind since we met’.Delusional and pathetic.

This wasn’t me, I never obsessed over a man so why was I doing this now? I needed to forget about him. Mental note…no more romance movies or books for a while until this obsession wears off. Or seek mental help.

It was Ivy night again but we decided to turn it into a weekend thing as I had postponed the last one we’d arranged. She summoned me to help her set the colour and themes for the wedding as Jude was away with work this weekend. They had narrowed down some potential venues after viewing them over the last couple of weeks. She also wanted me to help plan an engagement party.

I had stockpiled notebooks, wedding books, a small overnight bag, and some wine as I drove to her parent’s house; her house wasn’t quite finished. I was so thrilled for Ivy and I couldn't wait to take my mind off my non-existent love life and my new obsession by planning her wedding; a distraction I welcomed.

Drowning in books, we settled onto the couch surrounded by wedding books scattered open on various pages, in designated areas; cakes to the left, flowers to the right, wedding dresses central and in front of us was an organised list of who was responsible for which to-do item. Ivy’s vision was ‘fairytale princess’, her vision board scared me with how extravagant itwas in the time frame we had but I would support her as long as she didn't make me wear ruffles!

Pizza was our best friend tonight, accompanied with more wine which became such a habit during the movies that the planning quickly fell to the back of our mind. We got drunk, like usual, but tonight we started to dance around her parent’s front room, singing and dancing, adding more songs to a party playlist.

More wine flowed through our veins, to the point that neither of us could stand. Laughing until our cheeks hurt, we both crashed on the floor in fits of laughter, breathless from the dancing and loud singing. It was kind of lucky the house wasn’t close to neighbouring houses or we would have had a noise complaint.

Ivy held my hand. “You're my best friend and I love you so much.” Her admiration brought tears to my eyes. Alcohol always made Ivy sensitive and so emotional that she would express admiration and even more gratitude than usual.

“I love you too, Iv! Honestly you are my sister,” I replied, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

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