Page 5 of Because of Blake
“Did you enjoy your little vacation?” She flips her bleach blond hair behind her shoulder and folds her arms across her chest.
Vacation?Only someone in their mid-twenties would think of moving as a vacation. “I moved, Abbey. It wasn’t exactly a picnic.” I adjust my purse strap on my shoulder. “And I’d better get moving now. I’ve still got plenty of work to do this afternoon.”
“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t get to your stuff last week.” Her tone sounds anything but apologetic.
“It’s alright.” I grit my teeth, trying my hardest to keep my professionalism, but my words still come out tight. “I’ll just be busy Wednesday and Thursday.”
Her eyebrows come together so closely, I’m worried the pencil will smudge and leave a uni-brow. Okay, maybe I’m hoping it will. “Well, that’s the price you pay for working part-time.” She huffs, walking past me, grazing my arm with hers.
With a deep, cleansing breath, I steel myself to walk through the office and out the door. The warmth of a Colorado August greets me, a glorious change from the frigid air-conditioned office, but as I step away from the shade of the building and into the parking lot, the sweat builds on my skin. It’s like crossing a not-so-glorious desert.
Opening my car door, I’m met with self-cleaning oven temperatures even though I parked under the giant oak tree in the middle of the lot. This is ridiculous. I love summer, but even I have my limits. I sit in the car with the door open, blasting the A/C for a minute or two until the air coming from the vents cools. Putting my hands on the dash, I let the cold air run down my shirt sleeves and into my damp armpits. I’m sure I look sexy right now, but who do I have to impress?
Yes, I dress professionally and wear makeup for work, but it’s the only time. When I’m not working, I prefer a natural look. Maybe a little mascara and lip gloss, but not always. I’m not trying to attract anyone, so what do I care if I don’t look the epitome of sex all the time?
Like Abbey.I let out a deep exhale.Abbey.
I’m glad I’m part-time, since her internship will most certainly turn into a full-time position at the beginning of the year. I’ll be stuck with her and her smug, snotty attitude. She thinks she’s so much better than me because she’ll be applying to law school next year. Like I didn’t consider law school myself.
Getting my bachelor’s degree in criminal law, I interned here at Fisher & Sons the summer right out of college, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I had, at one point, thought about going to law school, but when I saw the insane hours and stress the lawyers went through, I canned the idea. I’ve kept my position as a paralegal, and I’m good at it.
Abbey will make a phenomenal lawyer. She’s the right amount of bitch for the job. As annoying as she may be, she’s smart and had outstanding accolades when she applied for our internship. I have to give credit where credit is due.
Doesn’t mean I have to like her, though.
My body finally cools enough to be comfortable, so I cut the engine. Sliding the driver’s seat all the way back, I roll down the windows and take in the sounds of summer. Birds chirping away in the tree branches above me. Bugs buzzing through the air. In another month, autumn will officially be here and, although the heat is sweltering, I’m not ready to say goodbye to these warm summer days.
With a sigh, I open my insulated lunch bag to retrieve my strawberry salad and French bread. I’ve always preferred bringing my lunch to save money, and I could very well eat in our lunchroom, but I’d rather be outside and slightly sweaty than freeze in the overactive air conditioning.
And in the car, I can listen to my music.
I turn up the stereo, cranking the deliciously powerful guitar riffs of Rise Against, and stare aimlessly out of the window. My husband, Charlie, always hated this band. I used to play it on purpose to annoy him. He got me back with some of his awful music tastes, but I miss the way we tortured each other. All in the name of fun, of course.
Grimacing, I pinch my eyes shut as my nostalgia dissipates, and I feel the sting of Charlie’s absence. To placate the tears pricking my eyes, I stuff my mouth full of dressing-drenched spinach, and pull out my phone for some riveting rounds of Candy Crush.
An ad for a dating app pops up after a difficult level, and as I wait for the “X” to appear, Michelle’s words from yesterday ring in my ears. Is it time for me to meet someone? What would it be like to swipe through all those profiles? Do people really have any luck finding worthwhile partnerships on these things?
My curiosity begs my finger to hit “Get”, but I shake my head and close the ad. Even if it was only in jest, I can’t entertain the idea. Sure, three years is a long time to be alone. It’s only natural the compulsion to find companionship surfaces every now and then, but that’s all it is; a compulsion. It’s not something I need, and certainly not something I’m looking for.
Even if I was ready, would I be able to compete in the dating world?
I don’t intend for it to happen, but thoughts of women like Abbey pop into my head. Hair perfectly curled and pinned to frame their faces which are painted like runway models while they sip cosmopolitans in their tight skirts and low-cut tops. Their immaculate manicures would beckon men who are probably Adonises in their own right.
Adonises like Blake.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!The alarm on my phone sounds, making me jump and alerting me to the fact my lunch hour is over. I pack up my containers and head back into the office. When I step inside, Abbey’s chatting with our receptionist. She doesn’t notice me as I walk by, but I take a second to scrutinize her appearance.
She’s always dressed to kill, her makeup fiercely applied, and her stature radiating confidence. She’ll dominate her opponent in the courtroom. Based on her body language, she probably dominates the dating game, too.
I skulk away, not sure why my legs are suddenly heavy like lead. The love of my life is gone, yes, but I found my one and only, and I wouldn’t trade the time we had together for anything. Not even a chance at new love.
“The house is beautiful, Mags.” Michelle gazes up at my vaulted ceilings as she walks down the stairs after we tour the upper level.
“Thanks, but I didn’t do anything to it. The previous owners updated it before selling.”
“Yeah, but you found it and snatched it up.” Michelle walks into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. “So, how are the neighbors?”
I shrug and open the fridge to retrieve the iced tea. “The ones I’ve met are fine, I guess.” As I turn away from the fridge, I groan. “The woman across the street, though.” I roll my eyes. “She’s a piece of work.”