Page 56 of Perfect Assumption
I’m relieved when David strolls into the office. That is until he asks, “What happened? Ward asked me if I’d got my own coffee since he was replacing one for Angie…whoa! Becks, what the hell did you do to deserve to be baptized this morning? And so early?”
Now, no one will stop talking as they catch David up on the morning’s events. And when Ward comes in carrying my new coffee, he presents it to me with a courtly bow. “For defending my honor, Angel.”
When he stands, I want to hurl this cup athim. Especially when Becks demands, “You and you,” pointing at the two of us. “Start from the beginning. Tell me what the hell happened last night.”
I begin to walk everyone through the night from the moment we entered the doors up to the point where I started speaking with Paige face-to-face. Becks doesn’t ask any questions throughout my recitation, but his tattooed hands begin to clench together fiercely as if he’s reigning in his emotions.
And they’re not good.
“You liked her,” Becks finally asks.
I nod. “She was open, gregarious even.”
“Until she misunderstood what was happening between Angie and me,” Ward interjects.
“Dr. Paige Kensington. Paige always was smart,” Becks drawls, anger beginning to chill his blue eyes.
“Watch your tone, Beckett,” Ward snaps.
“And, here we go again,” Carys sighs before she drops into a chair. “Angie, be a love and see if my brother picked up croissants in his quest to sweeten up all of our moods.” Her smile is kind, but her eyes are wicked. She knows by getting me out of the range of male posturing, we might be able to get down to the reason Ward and I were thrown together last night.
After I rifle through the bags, I announce, “Raspberry, chocolate, or plain. What’s your preference?”
“All three.” I think her response is odd until she takes one of each and proceeds to move around the table, shoving one of each into Ward’s, Becks’s, and David’s mouths respectively.
I can’t stop the giggle that bursts out at the sight of them all agog at the tiny firecracker who has a cat-who-ate-the-canary look on her face. My hand comes up to hide my lips, but that’s when I notice Ward’s smiling at me with a smeared chocolate and powdered sugar smile.
I laugh harder.
Becks whirls around in shock. He’s managed to get raspberry caught in his nose ring. I point my finger and try to tell him. “In your…goo in your…” But I end up crouching over as laughter overtakes me.
Carys announces, “I think you’re forgiven, Ward.”
My head falls back as black wingtips approach my peripheral vision. He crouches down next to me. “Can you forgive me for being a stupid ass, Angie? For being an overall bonehead?”
This close, in the light of day, I’m shocked by what I see in Ward’s eyes. It’s a reflection of the hell in my own soul. So stunned I am by my discovery, I reach out my hand. He grasps it immediately. “Yes. I can.”
He pulls me to my feet. “Then, let’s get this meeting started so we can boot Becks out and really get to work. Okay?”
I offer a hesitant smile, which he immediately returns. I don’t remember the last time I felt like this. I’m standing on a ledge like a bird ready to take flight or fall straight to the ground.
It’s terrifying. But even as I tremble, I know I like it.
Twenty-One
Angela
We’re running a contest! If you capture a picture of a celebrity out and about the city, then we’ll send you all the Sexy&Social gear in our store. Just in time for the holidays. Get out those cameras, ladies. Beckett Miller has been spotted roaming the streets!
— Sexy&Social, All the Scandal You Can Handle
It was a long week. I’m not quite certain how I survived despite Ward putting things back on more than an even keel between us. Despite the fact it’s the weekend and this might have been the most draining week I’ve ever worked for Carys, I hop on a train to return back to the office Saturday morning.
I’m not required to put in any extra hours, but next week will be a logistical nightmare if I leave everything until Monday. Phones will ring, emails will be ignored, and filing will pile up. That will make next week rival this one as one of the most heinous since I started working for LLF. There will be no way to catch up without this quiet time without anyone bombarding me with more work.
It’s a perfect plan, I assure myself as I tuck my hair under a battered pink Yankees winter cap my grandpa gave me for Christmas when I was in my teens. Since there won’t be any clients there, I dress for my comfort in jeans and a sweater. Grabbing a battered leather bomber jacket, I slip into a pair of comfortable sneakers and race out to my car.
Once on the train, my mind starts to wander as the aboveground phone lines swoop up and down outside the window. One, two, swoop. Three, four, swoop. Repeat. Over and over again until we break for the next stop.Oh, if only my days would go back to being as predictable as this.I wonder what it would be like to not be constantly on guard with every part of my soul. I shiver before huddling deeper into my coat against the chill that races through me.
