Page 17 of Elevator Pitch

“May I?” I ask, motioning to the seat beside her.

“Of course, sorry,” she says while removing her AirPods.

“Don’t be sorry. I said I had somewhere to be. What brings you here?”

“Oh, I’m working. I usually work from home, but I’m going to work in public once a week since my therapist is encouraging me to do ‘immersion therapy.’”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of that. I’d love to know more. If you don’t mind telling me about it.”

She shakes her head, waiting until she’s finished chewing to answer.

“I don’t mind. I’m inserting myself in situations that make me anxious and uncomfortable. As much as I’ve grown accustomed to working from home and away from people, I know it’s not healthy to shut the world out. I do leave the house for dates and outings and I prefer working from home over the office. My therapist would like me to get acquainted with being around people who aren’t my friends, family, and cat.”

She looks down and titters, “Sorry, you didn’t ask for all that.”

I wrinkle my brow in confusion. I don’t ever want her to feel uncomfortable around me. I run my thumb over her knuckles to comfort her. The touch feels like I grazed a hot coal. She looks up and her face softens.

I wonder if she feels this too.

“That makes sense. If it makes you feel any better, this is my favorite coffee shop and the sweets are fantastic.”

She offers me a soft smile. “That does make me feel better. I’m going to do this for the first half of my day and head home for the rest.”

“Sounds like a plan. You mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Not at all,” she says, taking a sip of her tea.

I quickly text my assistant to inform her I’ll be a little late and silence my phone. We talk about the morning traffic and how she’s been since I last saw her. I decide not to ask about any dates she may have gone on or the guy I saw her with last week. That is none of my business.

When I share that I finished the books she recommended, she seems surprised. Then she quizzes me a bit to prove that I read it, and I pass with flying colors. She couldn’t stop giggling through her questions, and her shyness is so cute. I ask for another recommendation, and she gives me one, warning me it’s a ‘spicy’ one. Then she explains that means it’s nasty.

“I know you’re a nasty girl, but your secret is safe with me,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes in response and chuckles to herself.

“I’m not deterred by anything ‘nasty,’ if anything, I’m more intrigued.”

I lock eyes with her, and she quickly averts her gaze back to her screen, failing to hide her shy smile.

She dives back into her work and I respond to emails, occasionally stopping to indulge in my coffee as I try not to disturb her much. I don’t mind the silence between us, it feels familiar. I watch her hands type loudly as I zero in on the tattoo on her right thumb.Happier than ever.It’s as if my silence is bothersome when she stops abruptly as her hands hover over the keyboard. I see her glancing over at me in my peripheral when she quips, “were you ever taught that it’s not polite to stare?”

I return her gaze. “I was just observing something.”

“What were you observing?”

“Your tattoo.”

Her eyes travel to it instantly.

“Oh.” She lets out a breathy laugh and continues, “I feel like you’re always eyeing this one. The others don’t get much love.”

“I noticed. I’ll give them all my attention. Trust me.”

She raises a brow. “That’s a weird promise.”

She directs her attention back to her screen.

“Is it?Happier Than Ever. What does that mean to you?”

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