Page 97 of The Romantic Agenda
She takes a shower while Pepper sits dutifully on the toilet waiting for her to finish, unpacks under Pepper’s direct supervision, makes something to eat while Pepper rubs against her legs, and then... crashes. She falls asleep with Pepper partially laying across her face to make sure Joy doesn’t goanywhereelse.
It’s completely dark outside by the time Joy wakes up. She yawns—and gets a mouthful of cat hair. “Pepper! No sleeping near Mommy’s face!” She rubs around her mouth and sits up. Not completely awake yet, she knows all she needs is a quick glass of water and she’ll fall right back asleep. But instead of doing the smart, healthy thing, she checks her phone.
Grace sent a few video messages:
What are you doing? Why haven’t you called me? Don’t make me worry about you, you know I hate that shit. I’m assuming you’re not dead since the hospital hasn’t called me to identify your body, which makes your lack of calling even worse. Why don’t you love me?
Anyway, I expect to hear all about your Silver Fox. Every single detail down to the smallest thing. Did the pie idea work? I bet it did. He looks like someone who loves pie. Men love it when you cook for them. I know, I know you want Malcolm or whatever, but I’m just saying you should keep your options open. He seems into you.
Oh, and I have family gossip, like some good, good shit. Call me, love you.
Grace would be asleep by now. Joy decides to wait and reply tomorrow. She gets out of bed and walks down the hall of her empty apartment. Pepper follows closely at her heels.
Happy to be home, she sits at her refinished dining table and eats a pint of her favorite ice cream.
But it’s impossible not to think of everything all at once too.
How are things worse than when she left?
Twenty-Seven
TUESDAY
Everyone knows the first day of work after a vacation makes the top ten list for worst workdays ever.
Joy arrives at Red Warren early to get the jump on the impending brain fog, the relentless dread of checking her email, and losing the will to do anything except spin in her office chair.
Surprisingly, everything adheres effortlessly to her usual routine. She begins the day with her work playlist, a brown sugar scented candle, a so-so cup of coffee, and a glazed donut.
“Oh, you’re here today. I thought you’d be out.” Megan peeks into her office from the hall about an hour in.
“I was supposed to be, but then I thought of the ever-growing throng of unread emails festering in my inbox and, well.” Joy shrugs. “Capitalism won.”
“Funny.” Megan doesn’t laugh but she does smile bright enough to make you think she means it. “Malcolm said the same thing. Oh,not theexactsame thing. He said he got back from his trip early and decided to just come in.”
“He’s here?”
Megan nods. “I said good morning not even five minutes ago.”
Ah, he must have got in recently. His car wasn’t in the parking lot when she arrived.
“Oh, here he comes. We were just talking about you.”
The hair on Joy’s arm stands straight up. She knows she’s gone full deer in the headlights, unsure what to expect from Malcolm. He hasn’t called or messaged her, when normally she’d have an early morning slew of them by now. It hurt to see her inbox like that, completely devoid of any recent traces of him, the pain piercing her right in the chest.
Respecting his silence, his need for space seemed the better option than bothering him, but now he’s standing in her doorway next to Megan, all smiles.
“Good morning, Joy.”
Good morning, Joy?That’sallhe has to say to her? Doesn’t he think that’s a bitbrief?
Joy, ever the professional, waves at him. Her voice can’t be trusted to do any heavy lifting where he’s concerned in front of mixed company.
“I’m off to my office,” Megan says. “Joy, I’ll see you at ten for our meeting?”
Joy nods at her.
Megan departs, leaving them alone. Malcolm doesn’t seem any worse for wear. The hard, cold look has melted and he’s back to his usual reserved boss self. His suit is a thrilling black and white houndstooth paired with a black shirt and mustard yellow tie.
