Page 28 of The Close-Up
Coffee won’t do anymore. I need to cool off, so I drain the water bottle on my desk. And then I process Fiona’s micromanage-y suggestion. As confident as I am that I can come up with my own ideas, I can’t just blow off Fiona’s suggestion—she’s my boss. And I’m going to have an aneurysm if I have to film Simon all sweat-soaked, his muscles bulging while he’s panting during a workout after what happened the last time I saw him working out. All that grunting and gasping and groaning and sweating and writhing and...
I shake my head to rid the visual from my mind, then wipe away beads of sweat that have suddenly formed along the back of my neck, close to my hairline. The last thing I need after our last semi-sexual encounter is to be around Simon when he’s doing the second sexiest thing a man could ever do.
But there’s no way around it. Fiona’s hell-bent on this more personal angle for upcoming episodes.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll um, text him about it right now.”
“Oh, no need. He’s on his way here so you two can talk about it when he arrives.”
“What?”
Fiona frowns at my sudden sharp tone. I clear my throat and mumble something about my throat being sore from all that coughing. She explains that the art department needs to take photos of him for the series promo content, so he’s stopping by to do that right now.
She looks out the glass floor-to-ceiling wall of my office, which faces the elevators. Then she grins and waves. “Simon!” she sings.
Whipping my head around at lightning speed nearly dislocates my neck. In walks Simon, from the elevators right into my office. A dozen heads pop up from the nearby cubicles. It seems like everyone at Dash is eager to see Simon in the flesh.
He stops in my doorway, his posture easy and the smile on his face natural. I swallow all the saliva in my mouth.
No...just...no. This cannot happen. The first time Simon and I see each other post-almost-hookup fiasco cannot be at my workplace, where I have to exude professionalism and competence. Not when I’m a tangle of nerves and indiscernible syllables at just the thought of him.
Now that he’s here in front of me, I’m supposed to just pretend that we didn’t almost have sex two days ago?
Before I can stammer out an unintelligible greeting, he shakes hands with Fiona.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man who helped save my marriage,” she says.
He thanks her for the kind words, and they chat briefly about the series. Fiona talks about how she feels so newly loved-up by her romantically reformed husband that she’s been doing more thoughtful things for him too, like making him breakfast in bed and surprising him with box seats to all the Giants’ home games this season.
The entire time, I gaze up at them, still seated in my office chair, in awe of how easy and calm Simon seems. Is he totally over what happened between us?
She mentions their anniversary trip to the Seychelles and asks if he travels much.
“Not as much as I’d like. I’m headed to Napa with my mom, grandma, and sister next month for a long weekend, though.”
Fiona’s face lights up. “Oh, that would be great to chronicle for an episode. We could get an inside look at you spending quality time with your family. What do you think about accompanying Simon to Napa, Naomi?”
As I stammer out a response, Simon interrupts. “Actually, I’ll have to run that by my family first.”
Fiona smiles warmly. “Of course. Look at me, throwing out all these ideas. I should really leave it up to Naomi. She’s doing a brilliant job of things so far.”
Fiona raves about the just-edited first episode ofSimply Simonat the couples’ retreat.
“You’re our most-watched online series to date,” she says.
Simon blushes. “Wow, really? Thank you for even wanting to produce a series about me. It’s been a joy working with Naomi.”
Fiona looks at me. “I meant to ask earlier, you two have a nice time in Tahoe together?”
My throat goes dry once more, but this time it’s because I can’t think of a single thing other than Simon seeing me touch myself in the tub. It’s like when someone points out a tiny stain in an otherwise beautifully pressed and laundered shirt. Every time you look at it, your eyes can’t help but zero in on the flaw.
“It was, um...”
Simon’s brow wrinkles as I stammer my way to something resembling a complete sentence. I have zero doubt that he knows what I’m thinking at this exact moment and why it’s messing up my ability to speak.
“It was great,” I finally say.
“Yeah, we really got to know each other,” Simon says.
