Page 28 of Everything She Wanted

I walk into the boardroom and head to the front of the room to connect my laptop to the big screen, but honestly, I’m not sure exactly how to set it all up. I look helplessly at all the cords and the projector.

“Hey.”

Nick walks in with way too much food.

“That smells amazing.”

“I made it myself.” He gives me a wink that makes my toes curl.

“Confession, I don’t know how to hook my laptop up to any of this.” I hold up the cables. There were other things that I would never confess to him, no matter how much I might want to.

“Don’t worry, let’s eat first.” He hands me my lemongrass chicken vermicelli bowl, along with chopsticks, a fork, and napkins, and sits next to me.

I assumed he would sit across from me, so the proximity is unnerving, especially with the vast table.

My mind flashes unbidden to other things we could be doing on it right now. I use my fork to mix together the sprouts, noodles and chicken to distract myself.

“This is one of the biggest boardroom tables I’ve ever seen,” he says as if he’s anticipating my every desire.

I take a small bite to get my mind back on safer ground. “This is so good.”

“It’s amazing, right? It’s just this little hole in the wall, but they have the best food.”

“Those places usually do.” I force myself not to shovel the food into my mouth and hope I won’t end up with a carrot stuck in my teeth or sauce on my face. He doesn’t seem to notice my inner struggle and eats as if we have all the time in the world, as if we are in an intimate restaurant and not under fluorescent tubes in a boardroom.

We sit like that for a while, this easy back and forth, and I almost forget we’re supposed to be talking about work.

“Do you like working here?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“Yes.” I pause while I try to think of what to say next.

“Yes, but...?”

I know better than to air my grievances.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He sees through me, and it’s disarming.

“It’s just that, when you first start somewhere, they seem to notice what you’re contributing, and over time, it’s harder to get your work noticed. That extra time and effort without any recognition can be so deflating. I mean, I’m grateful. It’s such a great opportunity.”

I feel vulnerable, wanting to stuff the words back in my mouth.

“I get it.”

I exhale, not realizing I’d been holding my breath, waiting for his response.

“It’s one of the reasons I became a consultant—people see your value when you’re only there for a short time. You get to impress people and then leave.”

I almost want to laugh. He seems to wow everyone in the office just by showing up. Gorgeous, not a minority, and a man. I wish for a moment it was that easy for me.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he probes.

There’s a lot I’m not telling him.

I want to change the subject, as I know it doesn’t bode well when I speak up, but I find myself babbling on for some reason.

“I just feel like it’s harder when you’re a woman. You have to work so hard even to get noticed.”