Page 64 of Business Casual
I’m frustrated with myself. It’s easy enough for that frustration to bubble up and over to the man standing next to me. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to be comforted. I don’t want the small, flickering lick of warmth that glows in my chest when Charlie presses closer next to me. I shouldn’t want a damn thing from Charlie. It falls way outside of the lines we’ve drawn for each other.
I just want to finish these dishes and go home. Turn on a dumb movie and fall asleep to the sound of a laugh track.
“You can stop with all of”—I wave my soapy hand between us—“this.”
Charlie lets go of the end of my braid. “Stop with what?”
“The emotional check-in. I don’t need it.” I grab the tractor plate and start scrubbing furiously at a spot of stuck cheese. “We’re not—”Together, I almost say. “We aren’t anything, Charlie.”
He falls quiet next to me. There’s nothing but the sound of the sink water and my brush against the plate. The pound of my heart in my ears.
“Friends don’t make sure their friends are okay?” he finally asks.
A laugh sputters out of me. “Is that what we are?”
Do friends argue the way we argue with one another? Do they fuck each other and then pretend it never happened? Do they snark and twist and bite? I don’t know what we are to each other, but it doesn’t exactly feel friendly.
Charlie stills next to me, his body one tense line. He leans back until there’s a perfect two inches of space between us, not a single point of contact.
“I thought so, but I guess not.” I watch him drag his palm over his jaw from the corner of my eye. He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “I guess I’m just the guy you had a good time with. Noted, Nova. Thank you very much for clarifying my place.”
That’s not what I meant. “Charlie—”
“It’s all good. You’re right. This is what we agreed to.” He gives me a tight smile and nods toward the same door Beckett just walked through. “I’m going to say bye to your parents and head out.” He pauses. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
He leaves without another word, and I stare hard at the sink.
“Well,” I tell the tiny painted cats judging me with their little black eyes, “I fucked that up.”
15
CHARLIE
“What do youwant to do about the Wyatt portfolio?”
I rub my hand against the back of my neck and squint at the spreadsheets that cover the entirety of the kitchen table in the guest cottage. I’ve been up since three in the morning catching up on New York emails and talking to Selene since six, trying to manage the shitshow that is my client base.
I’m going to have to talk to my dad sooner rather than later. If he thinks causing a bunch of middle-aged men to panic into changing their entire savings plans is character building, I have news for him.
It’s irritating. And unprofessional. And stupid.
“Can we encourage him to invest in a rocket ship that will launch his adulterous ass into outer space?”
“Ooh.” Selene leans back in my desk chair in my office on the other side of the computer and takes a long sip out of my coffee mug. “You’re feeling spicy today.”
She looks immaculate on her side of the screen. Neat, dark gray suit and a creamy white blouse beneath. Her dark hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and she’s wearing her usual thick, black winged eyeliner. She calls it her battle armor.
Meanwhile, I look like I’ve been to hell and back. I wince at my reflection in the top right corner. My shirt is on inside out and I didn’tbother combing my hair before answering this video call. I think I have dried granola on my collar.
“Is it the beard?” she asks. “Has it given you a personality transplant?”
“I don’t have a beard,” I mutter. I drag my palm over the scruff that covers my jaw. “I have a light dusting of facial hair. A starter beard.”
“The wordbeardwas in that explanation. And don’t say, ‘dusting,’ it’s weird.” Selene gives me a look and crosses her legs, sipping at her mug. “Are you breathing in too many pesticides down there?”
“No. I’m just in a bad mood.” I slept like shit last night. My brain wouldn’t stop turning over Nova’s words. That sarcastic little laugh.Is that what we are?
Who knows what we are. Not friends, apparently. I don’t get to care about her; I just get to fuck her. I guess when she said she wanted me out of her system, she meant out of her life too.
