I was going to miss this; I realized as I turned his cup just so. Chiding myself for my sentimental thoughts, I quickly left his office. I was running out of time. Taking the elevator down, I made myself scarce in one of the back storage rooms that was full of old boxes and filing cabinets. No one came here. The firm was required by law to store old case files and documents for a certain period of time and that particular storage room housed some of their oldest documents. Mr. Chamberlain wouldn’t be finding me until I was good and ready.
Brushing the dust off of one of the boxes, I turned and sat. Not wanting to get lost in my thoughts, I lifted my arm and watched as the second hand of my watch ticked away the minutes. Five minutes past eight and I knew Mr. Chamberlain was working in his office. He was just as predictable as I was.
My stomach grew tight as I imagined his expression when not finding me at my desk to greet him. I comforted myself with the thought that he’d still get his coffee. I don’t know why I was focusing so much on that, but it somehow soothed my frayed nerves. It was as if I thought everything would work out as long as he got his coffee.
Ten minutes later, I decided I’d spent a reasonable amount of time avoiding him without seeming too obvious. Not that being absent from my desk when he first arrived wasn’t pretty fucking obvious. I stood and walked to the door. I tried reaching for the knob, but my hand froze inches from it.
Come on, Quentin, you can do this. You’ve quit jobs before.
Even Dr. Henson had agreed that leaving was my best course of action. Of course, I’d failed to mention the little incident at the club, but hopefully, today would be the end of that as well.
Mustering what little courage I had, I opened the door and peeked out. I don’t know why I expected him to be standing in the hallway, waiting for me, but he wasn’t there. I crept out and nonchalantly walked to the elevators. I pressed the button that would take me up and felt like vomiting. I never did too well with confrontations.
The elevator arrived.
This was it. Stepping into the shiny metal box, I pressed the button for the top floor and watched as the numbers lit up as I ascended. That infernal dinging that played every time I reached another floor ate at what little composure I had, causing me to flinch every single time it went off.
The elevator finally stopped, and the doors opened. He wasn’t standing there either.
Stepping out, I walked to my desk and eyed the closed door of his office. Mr. Chamberlain was in there. I knew it in my bones. I could almost feel him on the other side of the wall. Sitting down, I waited for the door to open and for him to call me into his office, but minutes passed and nothing happened.
Swallowing, I reached up and shook my mouse, waking up my monitor. I looked over my shoulder once more before losing myself in my work.
I couldn’t let him get to me. If this was some kind of psychological waiting game he was playing, I wasn’t going to let him win.
Eventually, I lost myself in my schedules, phone calls, and emails. All my work distracted me enough that I wasn’t thinking about what Mr. Chamberlain was thinking about me. Unfortunately, my phone chose that moment to sound the alarm I’d set. Looking down, I realized hours had passed, and it was time for lunch—for our lunch.
Silencing the annoying alarm, I saved my work and stood up from my desk. I made my way to break room in a daze. I focused on the food and ignored the fact that I was about to brave his office and the conversation I was sure was coming.
I ignored the titers of conversation as I entered the room and began preparing our lunch. After that first day, I’d started preparing our lunches together, dropping mine off at my desk before delivering his. I grew a little sad as I sprinkled the chips over our bowls. What had once been the highlight of my day was now something I dreaded.
I looked at the time on the microwave and knew I only had a few minutes left. Mr. Chamberlain didn’t like to admit it, but he was a stickler for routine and had gotten used to having lunch at exactly noon every day. I felt like he had excused me for not being at my desk this morning, but being late felt like something he wouldn’t tolerate from me. Of course, this was all in my head so what did I really know?
I carefully arranged his napkin on the side and reached to pick up the tray. Luckily, I’d only lifted it an inch or so off the counter when someone bumped into me from behind. Setting the tray down quickly, I thanked the tall soup bowls I’d purchased for not spilling a drop and ruining my work.
I knew exactly who it was from the sickly-sweet perfume she always wore. I turned to see Chrissy standing behind me with that ever-present, smug grin on her face. What I hadn’t expected to see was everyone else in the room making a mass exodus until we were alone.
I tried to keep my face blank, but she’d rattled me. I was already on edge with everything else going on that I didn’t feel like I was able to take on Chrissy and come out the victor.
She seemed to sense my weakness as she stepped in close to me. “It’s pathetic, watching you simper and pant after Nolan like a little puppy, starved for every scrap of attention.”
I refused to dignify her words with a response even as I felt them hit low. “Hello, Chrissy,” I said, calling her by her first name and taking back some of my power by not showing her the respect I knew she thought she deserved even if she wouldn’t recognize it. “Still as lovely as ever.”
She couldn’t hear the sarcasm in my tone since I refused to react to her in any way, but the blush that stained her cheeks told me she had received my message.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Chamberlain is waiting for his lunch,” I said if only to rub it in her face that he was waiting for me and not her.
A calm rage descended over her face as she tossed her hair back. “It doesn’t matter how much time you spend with Nolan or how many lunches you make for him. You’ll never have what he wants.” She swept her hand down her chest to caress the curve of her hip.
I didn’t let her know how accurate the cruel blade she’d slammed into my chest was. “You’re right,” I said, then continued when she visibly gloated. “Mr. Chamberlain is straight, and I’m his secretary. He’ll never be mine, but I will make damn well sure that he is never yours. He’s a good man who deserves someone to love him and take care of him, a true partner in life.” I looked her up and down disdainfully. “I would hate to see him saddled with a woman who is as cruel and heartless as you.” I’d just said a lot more than I would have otherwise, but I was quitting anyway, so fuck it.
A sneer twisted her face, but before she could launch into the tirade I could see coming, someone cleared their throat from the open doorway of the break room.
We both looked to see Mr. Chamberlain standing in the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest and a disapproving look on his face. My gut twisted at the thought of how much he might have heard. I was in enough trouble with him as it was, I didn’t need to add to my list of sins by fighting with catty coworkers.
“Quentin,” he said, giving me a little thrill as he pointedly dismissed Chrissy to focus on me. “I was expecting you at noon.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I ran into a bit of a delay. I’ll be on my way right now.”
Nodding, he stepped into the room and casually leaned against the wall by the door. “I’ll wait for you.”