I close my eyes for one second.
Perfect.
A beautiful contribution to workplace conversation.
When I open them again, he looks amused.
“I mean cream, sugar, oat milk, ritual sacrifice, that sort of thing.”
“Right, yes, duh.” I adjust my tote on my shoulder, trying to regain some dignity. “Black coffee is fine. But I actually already have one.”
I lift the cup in my hand as proof, forgetting the lid is not fully secure.
A small line of coffee slides down the side and drips onto the floor between us.
Phillip looks at it. I look at it. Neither of us speaks.
I feel a blush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks, and I know for sure my ears are full-on red by now.
Then he reaches for a napkin from the counter and hands it to me.
“I admire your optimism,” he says with a small smile. His green-blue eyes are shining, and then he tilts his head in a way that should make him look cute and adorable, but I just simply cannot.
“It’s mostly denial, really.”
“Useful skill.”
“At this company? Essential.”
He laughs, and something about the sound feels a little too intimate for this particular lobby at eight-thirty in the morning. A few people walking past glance over, and I become painfully aware of the fact that Phillip Briarwood knows my name and now my coffee order. I still don’t know whether that means anything or whether he’s simply one of those people who remembers everyone’s name because his family is on plaques hanging on every other wall in this office.
I take the napkin.
“Thank you. I would stay and debate cinnamon licorice candy corn as a concept, but I’m late and Helena is going to make that everyone’s problem.”
His expression shifts at her name, almost too quickly to catch. “Helena has you on the Robin’s packet today?”
I frown. “The what now?”
He gestures vaguely toward the elevators. “Nothing. Probably nothing. Good luck, Merryweather.”
That is not comforting. People, least of all the CEO of this company, should not say good luck when they know things.
They should say, “Here is the specific danger, Merryweather, and these are the three steps you need to take to mitigate that.”
But before I can ask, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
HELL
Where are you?
The question mark appears calm. Professional and nonthreatening. Just a curious question from a supervisor who moves around the office a lot in between meetings, and just really wants to know where I’m sitting today.
I know better, though.
“I have to go,” I say.
Phillip nods. “See you around, Merryweather.”
