Page 120 of PS: I Hate You
“Maddie—”
“Love you! Bye!”
Only once I hang up do I realize what I just yelled at Dom to hurry him off the phone.
Oh god. Oh no.
Did I just tell Dom that I love him?
The panicked thought sticks with me as I hustle through the Redford workspace to Conference Room B. Luckily, someone decided to get this catered, and most everyone is too busy pouring themselves coffee and spreading cream cheese on bagels to notice I arrived with less than a minute to spare, looking like death dragged me up the stairs.
He won’t think I meant it. He can’t. It wasn’t a real confession of love. Just a casual sign-off.
“Maddie,” Pamela calls from across the room as she adds her third packet of sugar to her coffee. “Why don’t you hook your computer up to the monitor so we can start this off with a look at the numbers?”
I nod and reach for the projector remote, both annoyed at my boss for mandating that I be here and grateful that she’s given me something to focus on other than the words I accidentally spoke to a man who takes everything in life extremely seriously.
The meeting drags on all morning. It’s not a pointless gathering, but the length could have been halved if my coworkers didn’t enjoy hearing themselves talk so much. After my boss’s boss says the same thing in a different way for the tenth time, I’m ready to toss him out the twelfth-story window and make him hike up all those stairs in hopes he’ll be too winded to keep filling this conference room with his coffee breath and self-important chatter.
But I can’t defenestrate a man just because he’s annoying. I can’t even sarcastically mock him the way I would Dom or Jeremy or Tula if they were bothering me this much. No, at work I must maintain my cheerful, helpful persona. The version of Maddie that has a smile for everyone and is a team player. The one who laughs at jokes even if the person has no idea what comedic timing is. The Maddie who quietly listens to coworkers complain about the most mundane things they could fix in five minutes.
The people at Redford call me sweet, and charming, and helpful.
They also say I’m necessary, and a lifesaver, and irreplaceable.
Without the first list of adjectives, I doubt I’d hang on to the second. And without the second, my job security would be shaky.
So I keep my little annoyances to myself. Like having to climb up twelve flights of stairs when I have chronic asthma.
Finally, just before noon, my superiors land on a solution to the issue, and we’re able to disperse. After collapsing into the chair at a free cubical, I slip my phone out of the pocket of my pants, which look like they’re made of a dressy material but are just fitted sweatpants in disguise. Throughout the meeting my phone buzzed a few times, and I read over my text messages now.
Dom:Call me when you get out of your meeting.
Dom:Or if you get taken to the hospital after climbing twelve flights of stairs.
Dom:And don’t try lying about the number. I went to Redford’s website, and it says what floor you’re on.
Adam:Hey! I’m at lunch with Dom and he’s being a growly dick! Food isn’t helping!!! He keeps glaring athis phone. Did something happen on your last trip?
I sigh and tap Dom’s name. Then I press my fingers against my lips, trying to smooth away the smile that automatically spreads at the thought of hearing his voice.
“Maddie.” He says my name with a chiding growl when he picks up.
“Dominic.” I deepen my voice, mocking his tone, and enjoy the relief at this quick moment of being myself after a morning of false smiles.
“How are you doing?” His tone has less censure this time, and I bet if I were in front of him, I’d catch the hint of a smile.
I hum a nonsense noise and press my chair into a slow spin. “Ready for lunch.”
“I meant your breathing.”
“Been doing it all morning. Don’t plan to stop now.”
“You shouldn’t have had to climb all those stairs. It’s bullshit.”
The curse makes me smile wider. “Adam was right. Youaregrowly today.”
“You two talk about me?” Now he sounds extra grumpy, which just has me wanting to tease him more.