Page 38 of My Heart Still Beats
“Oh, yes. We’ve already been told.”
The tone is back.
“If this is a problem, I—”
“Can cancel going to your best friend’s bachelorette party? Is that where you’re going with this?” He raises his eyebrows.
“No.”
I’m not sure what else to say, so I leave it at no.
He rises. “Let me show you to your desk.”
“Thank you.”
Luke leads me to a small interior office. It’s windowless, but at least it’s better than a cubicle. “We use all the standard accounting software, but if you’re not familiar with it, there are user manuals in your file cabinet or you can access them online.”
“I’m familiar with all the standard software,” I say. “I won’t have any problem, Luke.”
“I’m sure you won’t. Check your inbox, and you’ll see your assignments. Everything should be self-explanatory, but if you need me, I’m just down the hallway.”
In his office with windows.
But he’s a manager, and I’m not.
Management is no longer my thing. I used to aspire to management, but it means dealing with people.
I used to be good at that.
Now? Not so much.
I like numbers. Numbers represent order and structure in a chaotic world. Numbers don’t mess with your head or play with your emotions. With numbers, you can usually find a right answer. An answer that makes sense. An answer that follows the rules. Numbers don’t talk back, and numbers don’t manipulate you.
I get through the day and even stay past quitting time so I’m not leaving any projects unfinished. Luke leaves at six thirty, and I leave at seven.
It’s a decent job, and nothing I can’t handle.
Am I thrilled about it?
No.
But nothing much thrills me anymore.
Once I get back to my place and take Rita out, I see that I have a voicemail from Ben.
Funny, I didn’t hear my phone ring.
I check it and realize I turned the ringer off during my meeting with HR and forgot to turn it back on.
“Hey, Tessa, Ben Black here. Just wanted to let you know that everything is finalized for the two parties this weekend in Ocho Rios. I’ve emailed you the information to distribute to the other bridal attendants for the shower. Everyone will go on our private jet. All the details are in the email.”
I read through the email that tells me where to go in the airport, which terminal, how to get through security for private jets, and whatnot.
He really did take care of everything.
I owe him one.
Hell, I owe him a lot more than one. I’m not sure I could have done this myself in my current mental state. I have a great new job because of his recommendation, too. I should be happier about this than I am, but I can’t help but wonder if he wants anything in return for it. Then I feel bad for assuming he’d manipulate me like that. Then I feelworsebecause I remember why I tend to jump to those conclusions lately, especially with men. It’s a nauseating mental spiral, and only one thing will pull me out of it now.
