Page 74 of One Night Only
He looks up at me again, nodding once, and there’s that look in his eyes again. Almost as if he doesn’t quite believe me. I know I was paranoid earlier after what happened this morning but… does he know something?
“Is Simon your type? Because if you’re not interested, you can just let me know and I can tell Jenn to back off.” He smirks. “She has it in her mind that Simon needs to meet a nice lady to settle down with. Only she doesn’t trust him to find someone himself because every woman he’s ever been with, Jenn hasn’t been able to tolerate for longer than three minutes.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head on a laugh.
I force a smile. “Um… I mean, he seemed…nice.”
Andy nods again, looking at his laptop. “Yeah, if only you didn’t have to leave early on Saturday night, maybe you could have gotten to know him a little better, huh?”
Fuck. Me.
His gaze lifts again, meeting mine, his smile casual.
“Yeah… I’m sorry about that.” I offer a sheepish smile. “But I’d love to come to Shabbat,” I lie as confidently as I can. “Thank you for inviting me. Can I bring anything?”
Andy stands then, waving his hand again. “No, Jenn’ll be offended.”
I smile, but then I see the Chopped salad carton sitting rightthere on his desk, and my stomach drops into the very pit of my ass.
Sweat beads the back of my neck as I watch Andy grab the empty salad carton and dump it into the waste basket by his desk. Pressing his lips together in a tight smile, he nods as he passes me and continues out of the office, leaving me frozen, barely even breathing.
After telling Fran everything—and I meaneverything—I’m now wallowing into my third glass of wine, convinced Andy knows something, trying not to hyperventilate right here in the middle of the bar crowded with suited-up Madison Avenue corporate types.
Fran stares contemplatively at her own wine. “I bet he didn’t even go to Chopped. I mean, this is Andy we’re talking about. He puts a Teams message out each morning to see who’s doing a coffee run because he can’t be bothered even going down to the Starbucks in the lobby of our own building,” she scoffs exasperatedly. “You really think he went out, braved the lunch hour rush, crossed the street, walked two whole blocks, waited in line with us meager plebs, ordered and waited for his own salad? Come on now.” She shakes her head, lifting her glass and taking a sip.
I heave a sigh. She has a point. The only time Andy comes and goes from the office is in his shiny, chauffeur-driven town car. Andy isn’t really a people person. And he certainly doesn’t waste time waiting in lines like the rest of us mere mortals.
“Okay, so even if he wasn’t at Chopped, that’s not to say someone else from the office, or whoever went to get him his salad, didn’t see me with Dallas and then run straight back up to tell him.”
“Were you holding hands?” Fran asks. “Did he have his arm around you? Were you guys even touching at all?”
I snort. “I made sure to keep at least a foot of space between us at all times.”
“See!” She throws a hand up in the air. “Even if someone did see you, what can they say? You were walking together?Scandalous!” She mock gasps, rolling her eyes. “I mean, Dallas is Andy’s client. What are we supposed to do if we see a client in public? Ignore them and run the other way?”
“No, you’re right,” I concede. “But there was something in Andy’s eyes when he looked at me, Fran…” I shake my head, thinking back to the moment in his office after lunch. “And his tone. When he mentioned me leaving the event early on Saturday night. And when he asked me if I had a boyfriend…”
Fran studies me for a long moment. “I bet it was just your imagination. And don’t forget, Andy’s totally that kid from high school. You know the one? The real dorky kid who never knew how to talk to girls and either came off as rude or weird. I think he’s basically that same kid, even now. Only he somehow managed to find a wife and popped out a couple of kids, and he wears three-thousand-dollar suits and gets off from yelling at grown men.”
I can’t help but laugh at her more than accurate description, but something still doesn’t feel right.
“Anyway, enough about Andy.” Fran leans in closer, elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands, big smile splitting her face. “I wanna hear more about you and Dallas,” she practically squeals.
“I’ve already told you everything,” I say, averting my gaze down to the table when I feel my cheeks heat. “We’re just… waiting it out.”
My phone shudders on the wooden tabletop, and I look down at it to see Dallas’s designated name lit up on the screen, my heart skipping in the best possible way.
“Aww, look at that smile!” Fran teases.
“Shut up,” I mutter on a laugh, shaking my head as I unlock the device and read the text message.
D: I just got to the hotel. We’re going out for a team dinner. I’ll call you later, but I needed to tell you that I meant what I said earlier, Goldie. You’re the girl for me. There is no one else. You’re it. I just hope you trust me.
“What did he say?” Fran whisper yells.
I briefly contemplate showing her the message. But I stop myself at the last second.
Me: I trust you.
Pressing send, I lock the screen and turn it face down, offering Fran nothing but a casual shrug of my shoulder. “Just that he got to the hotel and he’ll call me later.”
