Page 21 of The One I Need
Then I did. Because when it comes to men, I’m a fucking idiot.
So there I was. I was drunk, pissed at the world, and was trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do next. The only thing I knew was that I was tired of letting a person who claimed they loved me dictate my life, while simultaneously lying to me on a consistent basis. Nope, I was done with that shit. I was going to find a career where I could excel. That I could control. Love and relationships were contingent on others. Well, I tried that. Zero out of ten. Do not recommend.
Then, somewhere in between my thoughts about love being a farce and wondering if I really could take a Louisville slugger to both headlights, I overheard Hazel and her developer talking about their dating app. I remember thinking it was hilarious that I was hours out of a breakup and swearing off love, and here I was, sitting next to two people who were trying to sell people on the idea love existed.
To this day I still don’t know why I said anything. Maybe because I was trying to figure out how to finally use my degree and their project clearly needed a marketing plan. Maybe it was just the right place at the right time.
Whatever it was, the rest is history. I spoke up. I invited myself to their office the next week. Thirteen years later, I’m now the head of communications for a billion-dollar company, and I haven’t had a serious relationship since that night.
Everything has worked out according to plan.
“What’s the rest of your day like?” Hazel asks as we turn the corner toward our offices.
“No clue, but hopefully time for a nap,” I say honestly. “Jules will tell me whenever I need to be somewhere.”
“You’d be lost without her.”
“Don’t I know it?”
“Well, if you have time, come by my office for lunch. We’ll order out and debrief from that meeting. And, you know, anything else that might need talking about.”
“Okay…” I say, wondering why she phrased it like that. “I doubt anything major is going to happen in the next four hours.”
She shrugs before opening her door. “You never know.”
I stare at her in confusion as she walks into her office. What the hell is she talking about? But before I can think too far into it, Jules is at my side, iPad in hand.
“How was your meeting?”
“Early,” I groan as I open my office door. “What’s the rest of the day look like?”
We walk into the office, which triggers the automatic lights. I hear Jules saying something about a meeting with the social media team, but I don’t process any of it. Because all I can do is stare at the cup of coffee on my desk, next to a single pale pink flower.
“What in the world?”
I drop the files and my laptop that I was carrying on the edge of my desk before walking over to further inspect. I pick up the flower and smell it. It’s sweet and almost looks like one of those flowers drawn on a birthday cake. I put it down and pick up the coffee, which is still hot.
“Did you bring this in?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t. A delivery came about twenty minutes ago for you, so I figured you ordered it to have ready after your meeting.”
I pick up the hot beverage to inspect it, when I see a note written on the side of the cup.
I’ve been thinking about you a latte, so I figured I’d send you this. Have a great day, Red.
I read the note again, which is when I notice the markings on the cup. It’s my usual morning latte order, and it’s perfect, even down to the three pumps of vanilla and oat milk.
“You didn’t see who brought this?”
Jules shakes her head. “He was one of the regular delivery guys. I didn’t pay much attention.”
I read the note again, bypassing the corny joke and focus on one word:
Red.
Three people have ever called me that in my life. The first was he-who-will-not-be-named. It was all he ever called me in the years we were together. The second was a creepy finance guy we hired years ago who once got a little too handsy with me. After he called me Red and grabbed my ass, I kicked him in the balls so hard he couldn’t walk for a day. It could have been longer, but I don’t know because Hazel fired him on the spot.
Then there was the third man. He might have only called me that name once, but for some reason, I didn’t mind it when it came out of his dirty, delicious mouth. Probably because I was having the best sex of my life. I’ll let a nickname slide for a good orgasm.
