Though, it kind of balanced out because it had felt like I’d been shoved off that mountain, hit by a truck, and then run over by a train for those first few seconds when I’d realized I’d missed a call from her. I’d already had my keys in hand, prepared to bolt out of the office, when she finally texted me back.
I had no idea where I would go or what I would find when I got there, but if Remi needed me, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Thankfully she was fine, and I’d been able to perform the damn near heroic task of packing down my craziness quick enough to keep her talking.
I’d probably come on a little strong, but she was the queen of dancing in and out of my world. Go big or go home. Right?
I had no idea what our text exchange meant. If she’d once again disappear on me or if I’d thrown her off-kilter enough to earn me another conversation. At that point, I would take whatever scathing tongue lashing she wanted to give me with a smile that rivaled The Joker.
Regardless, it was just so fucking good to hear from her.
I’d sworn to myself I’d never lie to her again, but I hadn’t been totally honest. She was hands—and mouth—down my best client, but business was in fact booming. I’d been slammed all week, and with the symposium in Charlotte only two days away, I had to catch up on a mountain of paperwork before I could leave.
Walking out of my office with more pep in my step than I’d had in months, I found the reception desk empty. Emily should have still been there. It wasn’t even close to five yet. Although Oscar was already gone, thank fuck for that. I did not need a two-hour conversation with him about his thoughts on the full disclosure principle killing my Remi Grey high.
After turning on a toe, I walked to the copy room and pushed the door open.
Not so surprisingly, Emily was there.
Extremely surprisingly, she was crying into a tissue.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
Her head snapped up, embarrassment blooming across her cheeks. “Oh, God, you weren’t supposed to see this. Please don’t fire me for being a basket case.”
I stayed in the doorway, not wanting to crowd her. “I don’t have the right to judge anyone for being a basket case. I’m Senior Chief of All the Basket Cases, not only in the office but all across the greater Atlanta area. What’s going on?”
Her long blond hair hung over both shoulders as she tried to wave me off. “No, it’s nothing. Just some personal stuff.” She let out a sad laugh and rolled her eyes. “Guy trouble.”
“Anything you want to talk about? I happen to know a thing or two about guys.”
She sighed. “I don’t think this one’s worth the conversation.”
“Then he’s definitely not worth your tears.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re sweet.”
I popped one shoulder. “I try. I might be your boss, but if you ever need to talk, I’m a decent listener.”
“Oh, God, stop. I’m on the clock. You’re supposed to be yelling at me to get back to work, not consoling me.”
“Would that make you feel better?”
“Yes.”
“Well, okay, then.” I cleared my throat and stabbed a hand into the pocket of my navy slacks. “Emily, what the hell are you doing in here? I’m still waiting for you to scan the Reese documents. Not to mention, I leave in two days and still haven’t seen my itinerary for the conference.” I punctuated it with a cheesy half-hearted smile—all teeth. “Better?”
“No. That was just weird.” Quickly composing herself, she threw her tissue in the trash and walked toward the door.
I backed out of her way then followed her down the hall to my office, her heels clipping across the tile floor.
She went straight to the plastic inbox on the corner of the desk and plucked out a manila envelope from the bottom of the stack. “The Reese documents were uploaded to our shared folder before you got here this morning. And this”—she swung an envelope my way—“has been sitting in your inbox for almost a week now. I was wondering when you were going to thank me for getting you an upgrade to a garden view room with a jacuzzi tub.”
My brows shot up my forehead as I took the envelope from her hand. “Garden view, huh?”
“Yeah, it was the best I could sweet-talk out of the manager. I was hoping for a lagoon view, but it’s still a hell of a lot better than the parking lot view that came with the group rate.”
Personally, I didn’t give a shit about my room as long as it had a bed and a shower. It was five days of meetings, classes, and uncomfortable get-togethers where accountants from all over the country removed their pocket protectors and cut loose for a few days. Usually, I avoided conferences like the plague, but this was the last one within driving distance for a while. No fucking way was I getting on another plane or volunteering for a cross-country road trip with Oscar. I’d go. Pay my yearly membership dues, get the credit for the classes I attended, and then check it off my to-do list for the next few years.
