Page 18 of Mine To Keep (Southern Wedding)

“I would say.” I put my hand in my pocket as she comes closer. “Are you hungover?” I bark, and if I could move, I would lean in and sniff to see if she smells like lingering booze.

“What?” she snaps.

“Are you hungover?” I ask her again. “You’re an hour late and wearing sunglasses. If that doesn’t scream I’m hungover, I don’t know what does.”

“Incredible,” she huffs and ignores my question before she steps forward and presses the button for the elevator that is already lit.

“If this is too much responsibility for you…” I know I should stop, but I’m pissed. I just haven’t admitted to myself that I’m pissed she was out partying without me, or the fact she was probably out on a date. Maybe this is her walk of shame. That thought alone makes me grit my teeth.

“For the record, I’m forty-five minutes late, not hours,” she says, pulling up her sunglasses. I expect to find her eyes bloodshot, but they just look tired. “My alarm didn’t ring because my phone died.” The elevator pings. “But instead of you worrying that, I don’t know, I was in maybe an accident, the first thing that comes to your mind is I’m hungover.” She steps into the elevator, shaking her head, and presses the button five times nervously. I don’t note how my stomach clenches when she says she might have been in an accident. “Fuck that.” She walks out of the elevator. “I’m not sharing this with you. I’d rather walk.” Her heels click on the asphalt. I watch her walking, shocked at her snapping at me. “And for the record.” She turns and stops walking. “I’m not hungover.” She continues until she gets to the door, which has stairs written on it.

“You’re going to walk up seven flights of stairs?” I ask as she pulls open the door.

“If it means I don’t have to share an elevator with you,” she retorts, walking in the door, and it closes behind her. I jog over to the door, pull it open, and find her at the top of the first landing. “So help me God, Caine, if you follow me up these stairs, I quit.” She turns to look at me. “And I’m not joking. I will quit and walk out, which is probably something you’ve been trying to get me to do since I first started. But I’ve decided that I’m going to be a grown-up, you know, instead of the child you think I am, and stick around, even if you make my job fifteen times harder than it should be.” She shakes her head. “Incredible,” she mumbles as she walks up the steps and farther away from me. “Drunk. He’s insane. If anyone is pushing me to drink, it’s him.” I stand here listening to her talk to herself, and the only thing I can do is hang my head.

nine

Grace

I walk up the stairs, ignoring the burn in my chest, and push through just to spite him. Was I late? Yes. Did I fall asleep doing homework last night? Also, yes. Did I wake up when I almost fell out of the chair? Again yes. To say I hightailed it out of my apartment in a matter of ten minutes isn’t an understatement. I literally brushed my teeth and hair, applied a light coat of mascara, and got dressed. The whole time, I cursed all forms of technology while I told Alexa to order me an alarm clock.

I knew I looked like shit, which is why I put on the sunglasses, hoping I could maybe slip away once I was at work to put on some concealer. But luck wasn’t on my side today. I also semi-ran two stop signs and four yellow lights to try to get here before him, but again, my luck was off on a coffee break. Now here I am huffing up the steps just to get away from him, pissed the first thing he thought was I was coming to work hungover, like I lived in a sorority house.

I pull open the steel door once I reach the floor, coming face-to-face with the receptionist. “Oh my gosh, Grace,” she gasps, “is the elevator not working?” The minute she asks me the question, the elevator pings and the doors open, and out pops the man of my dreams. I mean, the man I hate more than life itself.

“Nope,” I say, walking past him, not even bothering to look at him. I also secretly hope I look cool, calm, and collected, but know I probably look like a cat that’s been in the rain all night long. “Wanted to get my steps in early.” I walk by her, giving her a smile and heading straight to my desk.

“Morning, I was worried about you.” Kayla looks up at me and smiles, and her eyes go big when she probably sees Caine behind me. “Oh, boy,” she mumbles.

“Thank you for being worried.” I stop at her desk. “It’s nice of you to care.” I shoot a glare over my shoulder at Caine, who has his own glare on. “Technology is no one’s friend.”

“Well,” Kayla says, confused by this whole conversation, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” I smile sweetly at her while secretly shooting daggers at Caine’s back when he walks past me. If I was as immature as he said I was, I would stick my tongue out at him. But instead, I do it in my head along with nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah. How is that for maturity? Okay, fine, I stick it out for a second before I catch myself, but he had it coming to him. Drunk. Dick. Oh, look, starts with D.

I walk around my desk at the same time as I see him walk into his office and quickly take off his jacket. “I hope you trip,” I mumble as I pull out my chair and sit down. I tuck my purse under my desk and start my computer. The smell of coffee makes me groan inwardly, and if he hadn’t pissed me off so much, I would go to the kitchen and make myself one. However, because I’m more stubborn than a mule, I sit my ass down in my chair and die a slow death. I’m looking at my screen reading the emails coming in when a cup of coffee is placed on my desk. I look up to see Kevin.

“Morning,” he greets and winks at me before he walks away.

“Thank you.” I pick up the cup, bring it to my lips, and take a sip. I don’t even care how this is prepared as long as it’s caffeine.

“Are you two dating?” I hear Caine say and look over my shoulder at him.

“Yes,” I answer, nodding. “I’m dating Kayla also. It’s sort of a polygamous relationship, but no one wants to put any labels on it.” I put the cup down. “What can I do for you?”

“We have that Zoom call at eleven,” he reminds me as if I don’t know.

“Correct.” I nod at him. “The meeting ID has been sent to all parties,” I tell him. “So, all you have to do is click on the link in the notes.” His eyebrows shoot up, probably not aware I already did it.

“We’ll take the meeting in the conference room,” he states, walking back into his office. Now I’m the one raising my eyebrows. I think about going into his office and asking him why the hell I would have to be in that meeting.

I don’t have a chance to ask him because Vinny comes over to my desk. “Good morning, Grace.” He smiles at me. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good, thank you so much for asking,” I reply, my voice going a bit higher than it should, hoping Caine hears me and realizes he’s a dick.

“Good.” He nods his head, confused by why my voice is so high. He smiles and walks into Caine’s office. I grab the cup of coffee as I go through the emails, making sure I answer those that need to be answered, as well as make notes about a couple I need to ask Caine about.

The phone rings non-stop today, asking for meetings. I take all the information down, and when Vinny leaves his office, instead of pushing back and grabbing my notes and going to him, I pull up the team’s message board, clicking his name with the green light beside it.

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