Page 74 of The Stranger
I went from fearing my birthday would pass without any acknowledgment to being totally overwhelmed. I’ve never felt so special.
I can only surmise who is sending me these things because no card accompanies the deliveries. Another glaringly obvious clue is the lack of flowers, which would usually be the most common thing you would send a woman on her birthday.
Me: Thank you for making my day so special.
Spencer: You are welcome, sweetheart!
“Are you still coming out for drinks with us tonight, Delilah?” Matt asks as I pass his cubicle on the way to my desk.
It’s Friday, the end of the working week for most, but unfortunately, not for me. When you work seven days a week, they all begin to blend into one another. I’m bone-tired and want a sleep-in or have a lazy day chilling in my pyjamas.
“Can I let you know later today?”
“Sure, but I hope you can join us.”
“I’ll try my best.”
I guess one drink can’t hurt. It would be nice to make some new friends.
Things are back to normal between Spencer and me … by normal I mean platonic. We can be in the same room again without things feeling awkward. There have been no more kisses or anything close to that scorching moment of passion we shared last week.
It’s a shame because he’s a great kisser, but I can’t make the man want me if he doesn’t.
I don’t see him during the workday. He’s gone before I wake, but I’ve been cooking dinner for us in the evenings, so we get to spend quality time together then.It’s been nice.I enjoy being around him. Maybe more than I should. He’s made it clear where we stand regarding anything more than a friendship, but now that I’m privy to the dynamics between him and his father—and thedisgusting type of man he is—I can’t fault Spencer for being turned off by our age gap.
In the beginning, I felt the same, but now that I’ve gotten to know him on a personal level, age seems like just a number.
When I reach my desk, I fish around in my handbag for my phone, so I can shoot off a text to Spencer.
Me: Good morning. You might need to order in your food tonight, I’m not sure if I’ll be home in time to cook.
Although he only requested an occasional home-cooked meal in exchange for room and board, I’ve prepared dinner every night this week.
I enjoy looking after him and the way he reacts when I do. Not only does that handsome face of his light up when he arrives home and finds me in the kitchen, but he also compliments my cooking prowess as he devours every morsel. It’s the first time in a long while that I feel seen, appreciated, and needed.
Last night after dinner, I brought out the cupcakes he’d sent me for my birthday. I wanted to share them with him. He may not have sung to me, but he did place a lit candle in the middle of one and told me to make a wish.
I did as he asked.I wished for him to kiss me again.
When I reopened my eyes, I found him leaning forward in his seat, staring intently, but I never did get my wish. It would’ve been the perfect ending to a pretty incredible day if I had, though.
Spencer: Why? Where will you be? Oh, and good morning.
Me: I’ve been invited to go out for drinks after work.
Spencer: With who?
Me: Some people on my floor.
Spencer: What people?
Me: People I work with.
Spencer: Marcy?
Me: No, not Marcy.
Spencer: Then who? I will require names.
