Blogger Girl (23 page)

I swallowed hard and turned to face Daneen, who was now standing in front of me. “Hey.”

“I need you to reserve a car for tonight,” Daneen said.

So much for the friendly chitchat. “Can you be more specific?”

Waving a skinny finger at me, Daneen sighed impatiently. “I need a car to pick us up here at 7. We’re going to Caviar Russe on 55th Street and Madison.”

“You and Rob?”

Daneen gave me a closed-mouth smile and gently shook her head. “No. Nicholas
and I
,” she said, with an emphasis on “and I” as if encouraging me to use proper grammar. The joke was on her, since “Nicholas and
me
” was grammatically correct, not “Nicholas and I.” Although the joke was also on me since she was spending the evening with Nicholas and I wasn’t. “Got it. I need a client number.”

Already walking away, she called out, “Bill it to business development.”

The phone in my hand, I mumbled “You’re welcome,” under my breath.
Bitch
.

I was tempted to reserve an ugly stretch hummer or a party bus like the one driven by the Partridge Family. But I didn’t like the idea of Nicholas and Daneen alone together in the back of a limo and I liked the idea of them alone on a bus, where there might be a bed, even less. I was dying to know what this fancy dinner was about. Billing the car to business development could mean they were meeting with a client or a potential client, but it could also be a convenient way to charge the firm to reserve a car for personal use.

After I reserved the car, a simple dark four-door sedan, I tossed aside my concerns about Nicholas and Daneen doing the nasty. They had hung out after hours numerous times over the past few weeks and yet he had always chosen to be with me. He was clearly upset, but he couldn’t ignore me forever.

***

A week later, Nicholas was still ignoring me. Actually, he had moved beyond simply ignoring me. Now he managed to acknowledge my existence, but from the way he looked right through me, I might as well have been a ghost. One person who wasn’t ignoring me was Hannah Marshak. Earlier that week, she had sent me an email with the subject line “Gentle reminder” asking when I would be posting my review of
Cut on the Bias
. I wanted to respond that my review would be posted when fruit stopped growing on trees but I ignored her instead. If Nicholas could play that game, so could I.

He was in Rob’s office with Daneen and David. Daneen’s obnoxious cackle ran at regular intervals of every ten seconds and I sat on my hands to restrain myself from going in there and using them to strangle her to silence.

It was excruciating watching Nicholas walk in and out of Rob’s office without so much as a glance in my direction. Although Daneen was trying to turn me into her indentured servant, Nicholas hadn’t asked for my assistance in anything work-related since our fight. It was as if I no longer existed in his world and it was killing me. That morning, I had stood before my closet determined to wear something that even Nicholas could not ignore. It was casual Friday and I was wearing my most flattering tight blue skinny jeans, a v-neck form-fitting white T-shirt and my Louboutins. Simple but hot. If his eyes didn’t roam the length of my body while I was wearing that outfit, I might as well be dead to him.

I took a deep breath and walked over to Rob’s desk, carrying three pieces of note paper. Knocking gently on his opened door, I said, quietly, “Rob?” My heart was pounding against my chest.
Please turn around and look at me. Please.

Giving me his attention, Rob said, “Yup?”

Through my peripheral vision, I saw that David and Daneen had turned around to look at me but Nicholas was still facing Rob and casually typing on his phone.
Damn him.
Walking over to Rob, my legs a bit shaky, I choked out, “A couple people called while you were away from your desk this morning. I forgot to give you the messages.” I handed him the notes and prayed that Nicholas was at least looking at my ass. My face felt feverish and I mentally kicked myself for being so flustered.

“Thanks, Kim,” Rob said, taking the messages from me.

I cleared my throat. “Okay then. Bye.”

I started to walk out with my head down but instinctively looked over at Nicholas, assuming his head was still down as well. My mouth opened involuntarily when our eyes met for a flash but Nicholas lackadaisically turned back towards his phone without any indication that he had even seen me, much less noticed my attire.

I went back to my desk, my stomach all a flutter and tears threatening to escape my eyes as a result of both sadness and frustration. Sure, Nicholas was angry at me but I was pissed at him too!

The difference was, I wanted to reconcile and apparently he did not. I was dead to him.

STARTLED BY THE RINGING
of my phone, I lifted my head from the thick pile of documents on which it was resting. I wiped the corners of my eyes and picked up the phone. “Hey, Bridge.”

“Whatcha doin?” Bridget asked cheerily.

Taking note of the mess which was my desk, I said, “I’ve been placing hundreds of depositions in chronological order since about 3:15 this afternoon.” I looked into Rob’s opened office where I could see from his window that it was now dark outside. “What time is it now?”

“Almost 8:15. You’re still at work?” she asked, sounding surprised.

Mid-yawn, I said, “Yeah.” It wasn’t that late but for someone used to leaving by 6 at the latest, it felt like the middle of the night.

“Darn!”

“Tell me about it,” I said dryly. Rob was away on business and Daneen had taken it upon herself to assign me work I was certain was usually done by a paralegal.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to meet for a drink tonight. What time are you heading out?”

I surveyed the documents in front of me. “Probably not for at least another hour. And I really want to go home and go to bed after. How about brunch on Sunday? Uptown Lounge?”

“The brunch special comes with a cocktail, right?” she asked hopefully.

Smiling, I said, “I think it comes with two of them.”

“Sounds good. Should we invite Caroline?”

“She’s in Iceland. Her father’s treat. I think it’s guilt money for his delayed mid-life crisis.”

“I’d let my dad marry a woman half his age if I got a free trip to Europe out of it! Er, maybe not,” Bridget chuckled. “Okay, I’m outta here. Don’t work too hard!”

“Tell that to Daneen.”

After we hung up, I decided it was an ideal time to give my eyes a break from the papers in front of me and I logged onto Twitter for a temporary reprieve. But when the first tweet I saw was about the cover reveal for
Cut on the Bias “
by breakout new author Hannah Marshak,” I groaned and quickly exited the screen. I already knew what the cover looked like and didn’t need to read all of the replies about how gorgeous it was. I decided it was God’s way of punishing me for daring to take a break from my real job and quickly turned back to my assignment.

Approximately 45 minutes later, I placed the box of documents in the “war room” where Nicholas and Daneen were sitting at a small table in a corner, speaking in hushed voices. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. “Daneen?”

Looking up, Daneen said, “Yes?”

“I finished the assignment.” Gesturing toward where I had placed the box, I said, “Is this a good place for it?” From the corner of my eye, I saw that Nicholas had also stopped what he was doing to look at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact. He was probably too tired to remember I no longer existed. “I’m gonna head home now if that’s alright with you.” Asking her permission to do something was almost as torturous as getting the cold shoulder from Nicholas.

“Did you double check that everything was accurate?”

I nodded. “Yup.” I actually
had
checked the documents twice, not willing to give Daneen the satisfaction of calling me out on a mistake.

Daneen narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you sure? We’re working really hard here and it is imperative we all give 110 percent.”

As I opened my mouth to use what was left of my patience to placate Daneen, she added, “Even the secretary.”

At that, Nicholas’ head whipped around to look at Daneen but he quickly brought his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Running a tired hand through my hair, I nodded. “Yes, Daneen. No worries. This secretary learned how to count well before she graduated college. See you tomorrow.” Hoping to be out of ear shot as soon as possible in case she asked me to do something else before I left, I turned on my heel and walked out of the office without another glance at either of them.

***

As I walked over to Uptown Lounge the following Sunday, my mood brightened at the thought of a girls’ brunch with Bridget. Only my best friend could make me feel better about what happened with Nicholas. We’d barely had a chance to discuss it yet.

The sweet smell of banana French toast hit me in the face as I walked into the restaurant and I looked to the bar area to my left to see if Bridget was waiting for me. At the sound of my name, I looked to my right, smiling brightly at the sight of Bridget sitting at a table toward the front of the dining area. My smile faded when I saw she was not alone. But not wanting to be rude, I quickly planted it back on my face.

Standing up from her chair, Bridget opened her arms, inviting an embrace. “Hi!”

I squeezed her tight and then pulled away, my stomach now in knots. “Hi! Sorry I’m late.” Turning to Jonathan, I said, “This is a surprise!”

He stood up and hugged me awkwardly. “Hey, Long.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked him to join us. He called me this morning and, well.” Bridget’s face turned red as she shrugged.

I sat down. As I realized I would not be able to talk to Bridget about Nicholas over brunch, my heart sank, but I forced out, “Of course I don’t mind. Not like the three of us haven’t hung out together before.” I glanced at the menu. “You guys are getting the brunch deal, right?”

“Absolutely. Eggs Benedict and a mimosa for me,” Bridget said happily. “What about you?”

“Banana-stuffed French toast, obviously! And I think I want a Bloody Mary.” I turned to Jonathan. “What are you getting?”

“Eggs Benny. Same as Bridget.” He motioned to her with a smile and she smiled back, her face glowing.

A match made in heaven.

We were all unusually uncommunicative while eating. What I had hoped to discuss, my fight with Nicholas, was off the table and although the big white elephant in the room was Bridget and Jonathan’s budding relationship, I couldn’t bring that up either. In between chews, I took sidelong glances at them, trying to decipher through their body language how far things had progressed. Bridget hadn’t told me anything aside from the “sparks flying” during the first “appointment” and their plans for a follow-up. I wondered how many times they had gotten together since then. Were they officially dating? Had they kissed yet? Slept together? Bridget had always kept me in the loop before where her love life was concerned, so why hadn’t she confided in me about Jonathan? Was this what I should expect for the future? Always being on the outside?

I took a sip of my Bloody Mary, practically feeling smoke come out of my ears. I had asked for it extra spicy and they had delivered. “So what’s new with you guys? I feel like we haven’t spoken in a while.” I fixed my gaze on Bridget, hoping she would read between the lines and acknowledge that she had totally kept me in the dark.

Bridget and Jonathan glanced at each other, quickly looked away and said, “Nothing much” in unison. Then they both seemed to smile into their plates.

I swallowed hard and glanced down at the remains of my French toast. It was delicious but I wasn’t hungry anymore. I felt a gnawing in my stomach and for a moment thought it might be from eating too much, but I knew better. I was hurt that Bridget had invited Jonathan as if they were already a couple without even telling me and worse, I was jealous. The idea of Bridget and Jonathan together, while incredibly unexpected and yes, sort of weird, didn’t really disturb me when things were good with Nicholas. I thought back to my last night with Nicholas, when we’d had sex on my area rug and he made me believe in the existence of a G-spot. And later, how he’d wiped the tears from my eyes when I told him about Hannah’s book. And then I thought back to the multitude of times over the last couple of weeks when all I wanted was a sign that he still liked me. That sign had not come and now that there was no “Nicholas and Kim,” a “Bridget and Jonathan” combination felt incredibly wrong and unfair. I hated myself for drowning in self-pity when I should have been happy for my best friend.

I took a final swig of my drink, hoping our waitress would come around with our second round.

Her brow furrowed, Bridget said, “You okay, Kim? You’re awfully quiet.”

Smiling, I said, “I’m good. No worries.” I forced another bite of French toast and looked down but I could still feel Bridget looking at me with concern which, of course, made me feel even worse. She was my best friend in the entire world, as close as family. She had always supported my relationships, and here I was pissed that she had the nerve to be happy while I was miserable. And so what that she hadn’t given me the details? Maybe she felt awkward because Jonathan was my ex-boyfriend. Maybe she was just trying to protect my feelings. She was a good person, unlike me. I was a witch, and like a witch, deserved to have a house fall on top of me while wearing my favorite shoes.

I drank my second Bloody Mary as quickly as possible and told Bridget and Jonathan that I needed to get back to my apartment to work on some blog stuff. Although it was true that I was behind on my reviews, I said it mostly to justify excusing myself early. I even left before the bill came to avoid any awkwardness if Jonathan offered to pay for Bridget. His treating her would solidify them as a couple and I wasn’t sure how I’d react. I threw $25 on the table and stood up. “I think that’s enough but let me know if I owe anything.”