“Whose is that?” Hannah comes out from her office, appraising all the chocolate.
I give it to Dean, he’s got the memory of a dolphin.
“It’s another special delivery for Ms. Walsh.” Victoria leans back in her chair, rocking it back and forth.
“I don’t know which one I like better. I mean the fact he sent a specific flower that meant forgiveness or the fact that, well wait.” She points to the bouquet. “Are these your favorites?”
I inspect the 100 Grands, Butterfingers, Snickers and Whatchamacallits. “Yeah.” I shrug.
“Then my vote is for this one. I mean anyone can look up what flower means forgiveness. Not my asshole ex, of course, but it doesn’t take memory.”
“Thanks for the support guys,” I deadpan.
“What’s the meaning of the tin?” Victoria asks.
I look down to see a tin with the logo of the restaurant we used to go to in college to eat wings and drink beer. The same place he met me.
“It’s the place we met.”
“Do tell.” Hannah slides into one of the chairs in front of Victoria, waiting.
“Don’t we all have work to do?” I ask, exasperated.
“Nope,” Hannah answers for both of them.
I sit in the adjacent chair. “I was with my friends. He was with his. He approached me, and I turned him down. See, Dean was the big man on campus. He was the star pitcher for the baseball team and a senior to boot. I was a freshman who thought her shit didn’t stink. I knew Dean had his pick of women, and I thought that if I resisted him, even for a little while, he’d chase, and I’d become the girl he wanted.”
“And did you?” Hannah asks.
“Well, we got married.”
“And you weren’t pregnant?” Victoria asks.
We all chuckle because we know that’s what led to Vic’s walk down the aisle with her ex, Pete.
“No.” I shake my head still remembering the impromptu proposal only months after we met. “I dared him to eat the hottest wing the restaurant made. I told him if he did it without drinking anything for five minutes afterward, I’d go out with him.”
“And he did it?”
“I might’ve caved after four minutes and let him drink a glass of milk.”
They both laugh and retelling the story is the lightbulb that’s been dim for the past five years. It just needed screwing in all the way and now it sheds a new light on our whole relationship.
“See, this is why he thinks he can walk all over me.” I pluck the note off the bouquet.
See me for your chocolate milk.
Love, Dean.
“If I would’ve held out the whole five minutes, he would’ve known he couldn’t walk all over me.” I point my finger like I’m making a case to a jury.
They both stare at me like I just took acid and I’m tripping while they’re sober.
“I mean, think about it.” I stand, pacing back and forth as I work it out in my head. “I never thought about it until now. I gave him the instructions to get a date with me but didn’t make him adhere to them. That’s why he thinks I’ll always roll over for him.” I shake my head. “I’m such an idiot.” I jog back to my office, grab my purse from the desk chair and head back to Victoria’s desk. “I’m going to tell him I’m not going to roll over like some obedient dog. There’s no chance for us. It’s over.”
Neither of them says anything as I grab one of the Snickers bars. “Shut up, I need the energy.”
Hannah holds her hands up in the air. “No judging.”
I open the door to our office and press the button on the elevator.
Watch out Dean Bennett because here comes the ass kicking I should’ve given you five years ago.
I round the revolving doors, my eyes locked on the security desk.
“Dean Bennett with Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm.” I stand in front of the man I had to beg days earlier to let me up.
“Back again?” the big guy asks, not moving to get me a badge.
“It’s obviously still working hours, so why don’t you grab one of these badges, type my name in the computer, and send me on my way.”
His bushy eyebrows furrow. “You seem a little upset. Is he expecting you?”
“Yes,” I answer because I know if that man calls up to him, Dean will allow me up thinking he’s won me over.
He picks up the receiver to the phone, dials the number. “You can ask to be put on a guest list if you’re a weekly visitor,” he says while he waits for someone to pick up.
“This will be my last time here.”
He tips his head down. “Yes, it’s Justin down in security. There’s a Chelsea Walsh here to see Dean Bennett.”
How does he remember my name in a building this size?
“She wasn’t on the list.” He pauses. “Thanks.” He drops the receiver from his mouth. “She’s checking.”
I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the groups of people returning from lunch.
My fingers tap along the top of the security desk, and I sigh like I have much more important things to do. Well, I kind of do, but it’s not like I’m the mayor or Oprah or anything.
“Yes,” Chucks says.
I perk up and turn to face him.
“Great, I’ll send her up.” He hangs up the phone, looks at me. “Lucky day again.” His fingers type in my name and soon he’s handing me over the badge. “I feel like I should warn Mr. Bennett or something.”
I snatch it from his grasp. “Believe me, he can handle himself.”
Getting on an elevator is much harder this time of day, but I manage to squeeze through since a nice man held the door open for me.
By the time I’m on the thirty-third floor, I’m happy we work in such a small building. The mixture of perfume, cologne, body odor, and takeout food is enough to nauseate a bear that’s just woken up from hibernation.
This time when I push open the frosted glass door, there’s a woman sitting at the reception desk, poised and ready for me. “Ms. Walsh?” she asks.
Of course, she’s young. Blonde and beautiful. Not that Dean had anything to do with hiring her, but she fits his mold to a tee.
“Yes.” I wait at the edge of her desk.
“It will be a moment, he’s in a meeting.” She signals for me to sit and I look back at the chairs.
“Can I wait in his office?”
It’s bold and ballsy seeing she has no idea who I am, but I’d rather get this over with and not have to be polite while he escorts me down the hall.
“I’m sorry, he said he’d be out to get you in a few minutes.”
I grit my teeth then huff, rolling my eyes like a thirteen-year-old girl before plopping myself into one of the uncomfortable seats. Not interested in my phone, I grab a magazine from the side table and nosily flip through the pages.
Minutes later, I hear his voice talking with someone else. The closer it grows, the more it feels like there’s a rocket zooming around in my stomach.
I place the magazine down, wanting to be armed and ready for him.
He walks right into the reception area.