Page 92 of The Facilitator: Part 2
“Maybe.”
I picked up my phone, knowing it was going to be early morning anddialled.
“Hey, I’m so sorry, Lauren. I don’t know why I said what I did,” he said, as heanswered.
“Thank you. I was hurt, Jerry. It was humiliating enough, it still is. That bitch sent the picture to my company’s intranet. In fact…” I turned toMackenzie.
“How could she do that, it’s a secure network, isn’t it?” I askedhim.
“Who are you talking to?” Jerryasked.
“Hold on, I’m asking Mackenzie how she managed to send that image to Trymast’sintranet.”
“Do you remember Mary telling us she wanted to use the office one time? I suspect she did without me knowing. It isn’t hard to log into it, if you have the password,” hesaid.
I could hear Jerry callingme.
“I might be able to answer that,” Jerry said. I detected a sheepishness to histone.
“What did you do,Jerry?”
“I had the password. Mackenzie gave it to me so I could post a newsletter to the staff that moved over when he bought my company. I don’t remember them, so I write them all down,” hesaid.
By the look on Mackenzie’s face, I assumed he’d heard Jerry’sresponse.
“Well, there’s another lesson learned for you. You got conned, I got humiliated, all because your dick rules,” I said,angrily.
For a moment he didn’trespond.
“I loved her, Lauren.” His tone of voice was full of sadness. “I trusted her. Yes, I was fucking stupid, and we’ll all pay for that for a long time tocome.”
“I’m sorry, I was lashing out. She’ll fucking pay, one day, trust me,” Isaid.
Jerry chuckled. “You’ve gone allgangstaonme.”
“Honestly, I could break bones, that’s how angry I am with her. Anyway, we’re extending our trip by a few more days. I’m not sure I can face too many people right now. As soon as I’m home I’ll call and we’ll get dinner, okay? Oh, and go check your bank tomorrow, you might find Mackenzie managed to get some of your moneyback.”
“Okay, that’s amazing. Thank him for me, and I’m truly sorry I laughed,” hesaid.
I said goodbye and replaced thephone.
“Good job,” Mackenzie said. He gathered my plate and glass and walked to the sink. “Oh, while you were drunk, you also retracted your proposal, telling me that you’d re-ask when you were sober. You were concerned I might not take youseriously.”
He turned to face me with his hands at either side of him on the kitchencountertop.
“Well?” hesaid.
I spluttered. “Don’t be silly,” was all I managed to say, regretting the words instantly, particularly when I saw a flash of disappointment cross hisfeatures.
“You have to ask me, that’s tradition,” I said, recovering theconversation.
“Neither of us are into tradition, and that’s not what you said. I’ll wait, don’t worry,” he said, smiling before turning to stack thedishwasher.
That means he wants me to ask him, doesn’t it?was all that ran through mymind.
I didn’t doubt he would say yes, so what was I so terrified of? Did I have to buy the ring, or a ring for him? Fuckit.
I stood and although the kitchen wasn’t the most romantic of places to propose, I was going forit.
