Page 112 of The Temporary Fiancée
I break out a few choice anecdotes. I tell her about the way he would threaten me with termination in order to force me to do things that were well outside of my job description—fetching his dry cleaning, or taking his car to get washed.
Then I get more specific. I tell her about the texts. I tell her about the comments he would make in the workplace. I tell her about the day I quit my job, and how he put his hand on my thigh.
Even though I already told Reed a lot of this on the way over, I can still feel his anger seething next to me.
When I’m finished with my account, Maisy is quiet for a few moments, writing things down on her notepad. She looks up at me and says, “It sounds as though Martin Keller created a very toxic work environment. Would you describe it that way?”
“To say the least,” I agree, nodding.
“And his accusation… do you have any idea why he would say those things?”
“Retaliation, I think,” I say. “He’s angry at me for turning him down.”
Maisy nods. “That makes sense. Men in power often behave that way. Luckily, you’ve got ways to tell your side of the story.”
“That’s the goal.”
“I’ll try to interview a few other employees of Mr. Keller’s. We’ll see what they have to say about their working conditions.”
I feel a quiet satisfaction at that. I’m certain that a lot of my former coworkers will jump at the chance to tell the truth about Mr. Keller. Without a doubt, several of them will corroborate my stories. He’s never been a well-liked boss.
“So.” Maisy smiles, looking up from her notepad at the two of us. “Let’s take a detour from that unpleasantness and talk about a lighter subject, shall we?”
“That sounds great,” Reed says. Despite the anger still lingering in his eyes, he looks profoundly relieved, the same way I feel.
“Let’s move on to the two of you, and your relationship. It’s the talk of the town, after all!”
Reed laughs, and I try to copy him, though I’m sure that my chuckle seems forced compared to his.
“Are you having trouble adjusting?” she asks me, still sympathetic.
“Yeah, a bit,” I confess, shrugging. “I mean, I knew this might happen, but it’s still so overwhelming. I’m not a very open person, so it’s taken me outside of my comfort zone.”
“So, I’m sure all of the readers will be dying to know—how did the two of you meet?”
“We actually used to know each other as kids,” Reed says.
Maisy raises both eyebrows. “Really? No kidding.”
“It’s true,” he says, as I reach for my cup of tea and blow on it. I can hear the smile in his voice. “Her mother worked for my father, so we spent some time around each other when we were… what, Olivia, thirteen? Fourteen?”
“Something like that,” I say with a little, breathless laugh.
“We reconnected recently through mutual friends, and… well, what can I say? Sparks flew,” Reed says.
“Anything to add, Olivia?”
“That pretty much sums it up.” I rack my brains for something to add, then say, “When I was reunited with Reed… it felt like we’d never even been apart. We just reconnected so easily.” That, at least, is true. Even though this whole thing is one huge lie, I don’t feel like a liar when I explain it.
“If you knew each other as children, then you’re probably the best person to ask about Reed’s earlier years, aren’t you?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“What can you tell us about what he was like as a young man?” Maisy’s pen is poised over the page, her keen eyes fixed on me.
“Well…” I have to be careful here. I have plenty of stories I could tell about Reed, but I want to select only the ones that will paint him in a good light.
Eventually, I settle on one. “He was really good at chess when we were kids. He would challenge people to games andalwayswon. I wanted to beat him so badly, I got a book from the library on chess rules and tried to learn the game.”
