Page 15 of We Met Like This
Your collection?
My collection is much bigger. This is the office. What about you? Big bookcase?
Is bookcase code for something else?
I smothered another laugh as Cole, the assistant to Rebecca and Dusty, the other agents in the office, passed through the lobby on his way to the cubicles, where I also used to sit, at the end of the hall. He gave me a short wave. When he was out of sight, I texted:No, not this time.
If I told you my book collection was all digital, would you hold it against me?
Yes.
Understandably.
Do you still only read nonfiction or have you gained some culture in the last three years?
That was the first strike against me, wasn’t it?he asked.
It was the first five, I assured him.
Rob walked into the office fifteen, not forty-five, minutes later. And as if to prove how much a guy holding a book really did bring to the table, he was turning a page with one hand while opening the door with the other. An act that took considerable skill.
“You just missed your daughter,” I said.
“She didn’t wait?” he asked, lowering the book and pausing at my desk. He smelled good, familiar, like pine and mint. He was wearing fitted slacks and a blue button-down shirt that matched his eyes.
I realized thatmyeyes were traveling up his body, so I quickly shuffled some papers on my desk, averting my gaze. “She thought you were going to take longer.”
“I thought I might. Better to underpromise than overpromise in these types of situations.”
I stopped mid-paper-shuffle, hoping he meant what he said. If he was underpromising me so I wouldn’t get my hopes up, maybe our talk about my future here would go even betterthan I anticipated. “Is now a good time to discuss things?” I said. His afternoon schedule seemed pretty open.
He rested his hand on my desk, leaned down, then said in a low voice, “You look beautiful today, by the way. And yesterday…” His eyes went to my blouse as if he was reminding me that yesterday I had undone one too many buttons.
I shifted in my seat as a shiver went down my spine and settled between my legs. No. We were keeping this professional. I was focusing on my goals. “Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.”
“I’ll be in my office,” he said, and left.
I knew why he said that. It’s what he always used to say when he wanted me to follow him.
Marjorie, you will stay in your chair until you have yourself under control.Margot was not short for Marjorie, but every time I was contemplating something stupid, I used that name on myself. My dad sometimes called me Marjorie. As if my name didn’t have enough syllables, didn’t hold enough weight. Maybe that was the problem. I was one syllable short of being taken seriously in life. Thinking of my dad was supposed to snap me out of my terrible thoughts.
I took a deep breath. It did.
I was good. The flutter in my stomach was all but gone. I could do this. Other people didn’t decide my fate, my sister used to tell me often. I did.
I stood and faced the hall. I would talk to him aboutmyfuture, notourfuture.
The office phone rang, stopping me short.
Maybe other people did control my fate.
CHAPTER 6
“Bishop, Maxwell, and Shore Literary Agency, this is Margot, how can I help you?” I chirped in my cheery phone persona.
“Margot, just the woman I want to talk to,” came the familiar voice of Kari, Rob’s long-standing and best client.
“Hi, Kari. How are you?”
