Page 11 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
I hated that I’d let him get under my skin—that I’d been rude back. That wasn’t me. But ever since yesterday, ever since he’d entered the picture, I hadn’t felt like myself around him.
I needed space and time to clear my head. Tomorrow was Friday. Maybe I could call in and have a three-day weekend to gather myself.
Even as I daydreamed about a self-care day, the idea of coming in on Monday to a pile of work, stank up the fantasy. I imagined teachers must feel the same way when taking a sick day. Sure, rest would be nice, but someone had to write the sub plans.
So, begrudgingly, I climbed into bed and tried very hard to keep Beck out of my mind, which is precisely why he was all I could think about.
I yawned even as my flip-flops slapped across the indoor pool deck of my gym.
I’d debated skipping my morning swim. I could have capitalized on forty-five extra minutes of sleep if I had, but even as I shut off my alarm and turned over, I knew I’d get up, knew I’d find my ass in the pool that morning because as much as I loathed that first freezing plunge, it electrified me awake better than any espresso ever could. And today, I needed all the energy I could get.
Putting my swim cap on, my hand slipped, causing it to smack against my ear. I rubbed the side of my head, thinking sourly about what a great day it already was.
There were only two lanes at Power Gym. An elderly couple always took one, and I used the other. My freestyle swimming routine looked bland next to all the aqua jogging and frog kicks done on the other side of the lane rope.
The older gentleman waved. I waved back, but he was already off, a pool noodle under his arms as he kicked leisurely down the lane.
I smiled until I dipped my toes in the water. I’d chosen Power Gym because it was conveniently located a few buildings down from my office, but while the gym boasted an eighty-degree pool, my toes determined that was a lie.
Self-preservation told me to back away from the chilly water. I ignored the instinct and plunged in. I came up, gasping from water that felt mighty close to being the preferred bath temperature for the Narnia witch. Eighty degrees, my ass.
Still shivering, I slipped on my Aftershocks. The water-proof headphones had been a game changer for swimming, and halfway down the lane, I found my muscles loosening and my mind giving way to the rhythm of my freestyle while I enjoyed some light-hearted acoustic music.
Two laps in, I wondered what Beck would think if he saw me now—if he knew swimming was my cardio of choice.
Have a nice swim home.
I gritted my teeth underwater.
I hated myself for allowing Beck to permeate this space. Swimming was something I’d picked up in the last couple of years, and while my strokes wouldn’t be winning any gold medals, I looked forward to the time in the pool, where the water muffled out the rest of the world, and the dappled light hitting the depths was far more relaxing than the blaring light of my monitor.
Even with my calming music and calming atmosphere, my thoughts kept orbiting Beck, like I’d somehow drifted into his solar system and couldn’t pull myself free.
Over and over, I kept thinking about how I’d brushed him off when he’d asked for help. How I should have just lent him a hand because, God, it was only his second day, and I’d been a bitch. Even if he’d started it first, I didn’t have to match his energy.
At the end of my third lap, I discarded my headphones at the side of the pool. I needed to get my mind off everything, and the soft playlist didn’t have the power to pull me away like I needed.
So, I pushed myself, working my arms and legs furiously until the burning in my lungs and muscles took the stage, leaving me with little room to fret or worry about anything else. I knew I’d be sorry tomorrow for hitting it so hard today, but I didn’t care. I needed the relief, especially before the looming workday ahead.
Chapter 5
“No.” I rubbed my temples, trying to preemptively soothe an emerging headache. “That isn’t going to work, not the way we set up the attributes in the system.”
This was supposed to be a simple meeting—have the order management team give an output for all the fields available in the management system. They were not supposed to take a sledgehammer to said system entirely.
“Then it looks like you’ll have to reset some of those parameters,” Frank said, unyielding.
I didn’t know him well, but his reputation preceded him. The man, twenty or so years my senior, worked for the family office and had a knack for bullying his way through meetings.
I’m not one for confrontation, but I hadn’t spent the last week setting up the parameters just for Frank to come in like a wrecking ball, Miley Cyrus style. “We defined these attributes together.”
“Maybe your team agreed on them. I surely didn’t.”
I looked at my team for backup, but Susan had checked out long ago, finding a chip in her magenta shellac nails far more pressing. Jefferey scrolled on his phone, and Ted’s head drifted downward as he sank quickly into sleep. Anna and Wesley had attended a meeting with accounting. Which left . . . Beck.
It had been about two weeks since he started, and he still had the courtesy to pay attention during meetings, or at least act like it, but we hadn’t spoken much since our tiff outside the office.
My throat felt cottony just thinking about asking him for help, but—a true sign of my desperation—I swallowed it back. “Beckett,” I managed, the use of his full first name eliciting the slightest twitch in his jaw. “Can you please pull up the meeting notes from last Tuesday?”
