Page 19 of Trials of a One Night Stand
Zelda enters my office. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and floaty white blouse with ankle boots and looks as beautiful as ever. A pencil is stuck in her hair, and she adjusts her glasses.
Light refracts off her diamond engagement ring, sending prisms of colors throughout my office, a not-so-subtle reminder that she’s no longer mine and never will be again. She didn’t do it on purpose—that’s not how Zelda operates—but between never seeing Jayne again and Zelda getting married soon, I’ve moved beyond salt being poured in my wound to acid being drizzled all over me. Not that I’m still wounded—Jayne proved to me I’m not—but Zelda moving on when I haven’t feels…weird.
Zelda sits in one of the two empty chairs on the other side of my desk. “What have you been up to?”
“Reading about the Sugar Valley lawsuit. I never thought we’d get past the complaint-and-answer phase. How has it gone this far?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs as if to emphasize her words. “We put the best lawyer in town on retainer and have a stack of evidence proving Orchid is ours. Maybe Sugar Valley will wise up before the preliminary motions hearing.”
“I hope so, which reminds me I’ll be going down to Portland for that next week.”
“I hate that you have to travel for this.”
“They’re probably playing some sort of mind game with us.” That’s the only thing that makes sense. “Cliff has some motions he’s filing, including moving the trial up here.”
She leans forward. “Is this going all the way to trial?”
“Not if Cliff has his way, but I don’t want to settle.”
“We shouldn’t settle.” Zelda’s voice sharpens. “If we did, that would just open the door for more frivolous lawsuits in the future. We need to nip this in the bud and teach them a lesson to keep the copycats at bay.”
Of course, we agree on this. We usually do when it comes to business. After all, we both love this company. I notice she’s still sitting. “Anything else you need?”
“Do you want me to grab you lunch while I’m out?” she asks.
She brings me coffee each morning on her way to work. She’s the heart behind this company, even if most think she’s my assistant and not my co-CEO, a.k.a. Mr. Z. I don’t know what I’d do without her. “Are you feeling up to going out? I can run to the cafeteria.”
She’s been coughing since last week, but she’s still smiling. That’s because of Jack. Ever since meeting him, she’s cut back on work. Although she still wouldn’t stay home when sick and now wants to go out for lunch when she’s not completely over what she had. But even on the rare occasion she doesn’t have a lunch date with Jack, she’ll buy a sandwich, sit in the park, and enjoy the fresh air. A sign she seems to be enjoying life more. Gone are the days when neither of us sees sunlight because we’re chained to our desks. I’m happy for her, but I miss those long days and nights of working together. Now I feel like the only sad—and single—sap in the building past six o’clock.
“I’m feeling better.”
She doesn’t look better. “I—”
“Do you want something or not?”
“A pastrami and cheese on rye would be great, thanks.” I push the papers to one side as she stands. “Are you meeting Jack for lunch?”
“No, he’s away for a couple of days. He’s off to the Midwest to interview a professor who discovered funds were being embezzled by his lab or university.” She gestures excitedly. “But then Jack discovered the professor is the illegitimate son of a presidential candidate. Isn’t that cool?”
I don’t recall ever seeing her acting so enthralled when we were married. That’s how I know Jack is good for her. He’ll be a good husband who gives her everything she needs to flourish. He’s less selfish than I am. I’d been so consumed with work I didn’t notice we were growing apart until it was too late. The truth is, I’m still a bit dense when it comes to women.
She coughs into her elbow. “How was your date?”
“Okay.” I wanted to experience sparks and fireworks, anything to make me forget about Jayne, who truly rocked my world and that hotel bed before disappearing with only a message scrawled in lipstick on the bathroom mirror. “She’s nice, but I can only listen to so much about needlepoint. Back to the drawing board.”
“There’s someone out there for you.”
An image of Jayne pops into my mind. “Hope so. But enough about my lack of a dating life. When do you see a doctor about that cough? Or have you spoken to Max about it?”
Zelda frowns. “I’m fine. If it continues into next week, I’ll talk to Max or one of the other MDs on staff here. Now back to you. You’ve had at least three dates in the past month, and all have been ‘just okay.’ You think maybe you’re setting your sights too high?”
What, looking for someone like you?
I might think that, but I’d never say it. My past behavior—saying something I didn’t mean to get a reaction—isn’t something I’m proud about, but it’s a lesson I’ve learned a couple of times over. I tried to make Zelda jealous of the women I dated. I even lied about having sex with Sam’s ex-wife to get a reaction from him and Zelda. That had been a roaring failure.
Thankfully, Sam and Hildy Grant are back together after I played matchmaker again. Sam even seems to be warming toward me based on the kind inscription he wrote to me when I went to his book signing two months ago. I thought he’d scribble fuck off you fucking asshole now that he’s Dr. Samuel Grant, bestselling science fiction author, so that was a pleasant surprise. We’re not best friends again—far from it—but I’ll take being able to talk without his face turning red and veins bulging in his forehead. But what I did to him and Hildy is still a huge regret of mine. One of my few regrets, unlike Jayne and our one-night stand, which was amazing. That’s how I knew Zelda is no longer the bar for other women to reach these days. It’s Jayne.
“My sights aren’t too high. They are completely reasonable.” I’m unwilling to divulge why no one is a good fit. That would mean telling her about Jayne, but for once, I wanted to keep her all to himself. Hmm, maybe I’m maturing finally. “I’m just too preoccupied with the lawsuit. You remember how it was when you were dealing with Carrington’s antics.”
