Page 10 of Writing Mr. Right

Aashiq stands up straight, so I have to crane my neck to make eye contact with him. “It’s noon, which makes it lunchtime, which makes it your personal time, which, in turn, makes it not work hours,” he points out, a smug grin on his features.

I shake my head and focus my attention back to the computer. “I don’t have time for lunch,” I tell him. I straighten my back. “Colin is busy with a criminal case right now, and he needs me to transcribe these audio recordings and get them back to him before the end of the day.”

I stick my wired headphones in, and I’m about to hit Play on the first audio file when Aashiq reaches over and shuts the monitor off. My brows furrow. “Hey!” I protest.

He grabs the top of my chair and swirls it around, so I face him. “Be glad I didn’t completely turn the power off,” he says. He taps the watch on his wrist, his fingernail clacking against the glass screen. “It’s time for lunch, which means you are going to be taking an hour for yourself. You know, like the law stipulates?” He smirks. “Ironic how you’re not following the law even though you’re a legal secretary.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. I guess he’s got me there. I pull out the headphones with a huff.“I didn’t bring a lunch,” I inform him.

He pauses. “You what?”

“I didn’t bring a lunch,” I repeat, though I don’t know why that’s such startling information.

His jaw drops. “Why not?”

“In case it escaped your notice, the physical manifestation of my writing muse impossibly showed up in my living room, which shocked me enough that I passed out,” I remind him. “And when I woke up, I was running late for work. There was no time to pack anything.”

Aashiq nods thoughtfully. “Okay, so from now on, we’ll meal prep. You need to keep your energy up throughout the day.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Aashiq—I rarely have lunch.”

The horror that fills Aashiq’s eyes is actually kind of funny. “Why not?” he sputters.

“Because I’m usually busy with work,” I reply. I lift a shoulder. “Typically, I work straight through my lunch hour, and then snack on things here and there to hold me over until I can get home and have dinner.”

“How do you have energy to do anything?”

“Lots and lots of coffee,” I say. “And thankfully, because I work in an office with overworked and stressed lawyers, there’s always a supply of it.”

“You need to be eating well,” he instructs. “Having a proper diet gives you energy, which means you’ll have the strength to write—”

I stand up, which cuts him off. Before he can go more into the writing thing, I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay,” I say to stop him. “I’ll go out for lunch.”

Aashiq grins. “That’s great!” He claps his hands. “Remember, you should be having three square meals a day.”

“Please don’t get all ‘after-school special’ on me.” I grab my coat and shrug it on. “I’ll just get something and bring it back to my desk.”

Aashiq wrinkles his nose. “Nah, that’s boring. Let’s go sitdown at a real restaurant. It’ll also keep you away from the temptation of working while on your lunch hour.” His eyes brighten. “Hey, why don’t you ask some of your coworkers to join you?”

“Uh, because I do not talk to any of them outside of work?” I offer. “It’s a job. We show up, we do our work, and then we go home. It doesn’t leave much room for socializing.”

He holds up a finger. “Which is exactly why you should use a lunch hour to socialize.”

“I don’t need to socialize with anyone,” I insist, resisting the urge to stamp my foot like a child. “I have Emily, and that’s all I need.”

“It’s not fair to rely on one person to fulfill a friendship need,” Aashiq points out. “Plus, she’s a nurse, so she works long hours and has her own things to do. You need to live a more balanced life.”

I snort. “Hey, I’m already consenting to go out for lunch. Let’s not push it.”

He mirrors my previous move, holding his own hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

I nod firmly, and just as I’m grabbing my purse from underneath the desk, the sounds of conversation and laughter drifts into the area. I straighten up to see a few of my coworkers—Stella; Faye Adam, our accountant; and Sofia Torres, the associate attorney—heading for the exit. Their backs are to me, so they haven’t seen me yet.

I should probably wait for them to leave and then go on my own. It’d be super awkward if they were all going out to lunch and then they find out I’m going out by myself. Or worse, they’d feel obligated to invite me. Yeah, I should just wait—

“Hey, Ziya and I are going out for lunch,” Aashiq suddenly speaks. “Would any of you like to join us?”

The three of them startle and spin around. Their gazes go to me, and then to my surprise, they move to my left, whereAashiq stands. Confusion contorts their faces, but Aashiq turns back to them expectantly, his cheeks widening.

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