Page 12 of A Break in Communications

She blinked, all faux-innocent. “Well, I know that now.”

“Fuck off. Also,looking after your sweet elderly grandma who raised you?Fuck off straight back to the Hallmark Channel with that bullshit.”

She gave me the kind of smile you gave a toddler throwing a tantrum over something dumb, which just made me want to rip my hair out. “Glad to know you think I’m that sweet, darling. Do you want me to call up Grandma now and prove she exists?”

“I—” No way she was telling the truth. I felt my face prickle. “You live with your grandmother? Really?”

“You’re so invested in my life story. That’s touching. My father threw me out when I came out as a lesbian at sixteen, and Grandma took me in. She’s restricted to her wheelchair these days and has a hard time preparing food for herself, so I help out.”

I… couldn’t tell if this woman was serious. I also had no idea she was a lesbian… if she even was telling the truth. The whole office knew I was bisexual since a well-intentioned Pride event gone wrong last year—though everyone took it well—but if she was a lesbian, she’d managed to escape my fate.

Ugh—I’d be a too-kind dupe if I believed her wrongly, or I’d be a heartless monster if I called her a liar wrongly. Like a stupid version of Pascal’s Wager, I guess I’d accept it. I pinchedmy brow. “Okay… okay. That’s very lovely. Really thought you were on the phone with a husband or something last night. My… apologies… for assuming.”

She gave me an astonished look, mouth open, for a second, before she said, “You didn’t think I was straight, did you?”

“What—how was I supposed to know? I don’t go around assuming everyone’s gay—”

She shook her head, smiling, half-laughing. “Wow. You know what they say about assuming.”

“Shut up. I need to make breakfast. And you need to—”

She gestured to the kitchen, which—had dishes out in it. Since when? I’d been so focused on the unfolding catastrophe that I hadn’t even clocked it. “Already made you breakfast, dear. Why do you think I asked? Hashbrowns and grits and I’ll cook some eggs for you now, as soon as you tell me how you like them.”

She wasn’t serious. Really?Really?How… humiliating.

I had no idea what the hell she was getting at here. All I knew was that I was sick to death of her winning every step of the way.

I massaged my temple. “Sunny-side up. I’ll go take a quick shower. I expect them done perfectly and timed for the exact moment I sit down.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Will do, Preston.”

One day—one day—I’d get the upper hand. Or die trying.

I’d bury that woman if I had the chance. I knew she’d do the same.

Chapter 4

Lucy

I was so desperately in love with Anna Preston.

It had been two years and ninety-seven days since she’d first walked into our office, and it had been like a divine revelation seeing her for the first time, not bothering with all the fake smiles and politeness everyone else put on. A sharp look of deathly seriousness, cool eyes taking in every detail of the office and everyone she was working with, not saying anything more than she needed to, just short and to-the-point greetings, and I’d felt my heart beating so fast it felt like it might have burst. When she looked at me and just held eye contact a second, coolly appraising me, before she put out a hand for a handshake and said,Anna Preston, nice to meet you,I’d thought maybe I’d pass away on the spot.

If there was a god, then there wasn’t now. Any artist had to retire after creating their true magnum opus. Anna Preston was ambrosia, an indulgence before divinity itself, her dark voice the honeyed nectar of the gods.

And she didn’t like when I tried to be nice. It hadn’t taken long to realize she spoke in sarcasm and dry barbs, and she only responded when I did the same. And when she started antagonizing me, started pushing me demanding I let her take lead with projects insistingshecould handle them better, I couldn’t help myself from joining in, and—well, one thing led to another, and we were lifting things off each other’s computers,she was cornering me in the hallway and refusing to let me leave, and I was pinning her against the wall or into her chair while it was just the two of us in the office, each demanding things of the other.

When I’d found out she was bisexual, I almost had a heart attack. And I’d never have forgiven myself if I didn’t at least try—this was the most beautiful and perfect woman ever designed by the heavens, sent to drive Aphrodite into a jealous rage—so I tried flirting with her a little.

For an entire year. And here we were now, and it turns out the entire time, the woman thought I was straight. Heard me talking to Grandma and thought it was my husband.

But it didn’t matter. Just because I couldn’t in a million years have Anna didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the game, the back-and-forth. I desperately wanted this promotion to the executive’s office, but mostly because if I didn’t get it, then Anna would, and she’d go setting her sights higher and spend more time away trying to leave to a higher office. Whereas if I got the promotion, she’d probably come storming into the office every morning to demand something, and against my better judgment, that sounded like bliss.

So one way or another, here I was, delicately laying a perfectly cooked egg down on the plate as Anna came out of the bathroom, wearing a dress today—with the holiday party after work today, we had a little more flexibility and were told to dress nicely, and Anna in that fitted black dress with a turtleneck collar, long brown waves still damp around her shoulders, I wasn’t noticing a single thing at that party except for her. I set the plate down in front of her just as she sat at the table, tapping a cappuccino next to the plate with it, and she arched one perfect manicured eyebrow at me.

“Did I ask for a cappuccino?”

I leaned sidelong against the table, kicking one foot up over the other, all casual-cool as best I could manage with her dark eyes glinting golden in the low light in the kitchen. “That’s not what you say when someone gives you something, is it, Preston?”

---