Page 27 of How to Date a Younger Man
My office door cracks open and Sabrina pops her head through, gently knocking on the metal frame. I wave her in, aware of the subtle chastisement that’s coming.
“Royally fucked you over? Since when is that the way you talk to clients?” she asks, her voice low and hushed. Her brows are raised so high, they practically disappear behind her thick auburn bangs.
“I needed to speak to him in the kind of language he can understand,” I reply, plopping myself back down into my chair.
She holds up both hands. “You know I’m all for relating to clients on their own terms, but that kind of language is so out of character for you. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, waving her concern away and turning back to my computer.
I can feel her watching me in disbelief, but I ignore her stare. I don’t have time to examine my behavior at work, and frankly, I think she’s overreacting.
Bob was one of my first clients on retainer when I opened my own firm. I’m always hard on him, and he’s always hard on me. We hold each other accountable, and at the end of the day, whether it’s pretty or not, we need each other. I know with every fiber of my being that he’s not going anywhere.
“Whatever you say, boss. Don’t forget you have lunch with Sadie in half an hour,” she says on her way out, shooting me a reproachful look before shutting the door behind her.
Shit. I completely forgot.
Sadie’s a friend from college who moved to the area a few months ago, and while we hadn’t kept in super-close contact since graduating, we’ve always been close. No matter how much time goes by, whenever we get together, it’s like we just saw each other yesterday. Besides, after all the crazy shenanigans we saw each other through in our twenties, there’s no way we could ever really stop being friends.
I shoot off a few more emails before grabbing my purse and hurrying to the parking lot, my stomach already growling. We’re meeting at one of my favorite lunch spots a few minutes away from the office, and I can’t wait to order my go-to salad—or to see Sadie, of course.
When I arrive at the warm, brightly lit café, I spot Sadie instantly, her signature waist-length dark hair swept over one shoulder. She’s wearing a flowy, brick-red shift dress, the hemline hitting just below her knee, the color perfectly complementing her olive-toned skin. Her sense of style makes me I wish I’d worn something a little cuter today than my usual pencil skirt and blazer.
A smile brightens her face when she sees me, and she stands and wraps me in a huge hug that immediately reminds me why we’re such good friends. Sadie is the warmest, kindest, most loving soul I’ve ever met, and being with her now makes me forget all the meaningless bullshit at work. Thank God.
“Oh my God, Layne, it’s so good to see you!” She squeals, stepping back and giving me a head-to-toe once-over. “You look amazing. I love the whole corporate badass look.” She winks.
“Are you kidding? Look at you! I swear you haven’t changed at all since college.”
“Oh, please, you’re being way too nice. After ten years of marriage, I’ve definitely gained a little comfort weight.”
She giggles, and I laugh along with her, my eyes lingering on the silver band and round-cut solitaire diamond on her finger. Sadie was the first of all of us to get married, and I remember her wedding like it was yesterday. At that time, I was so sure I’d be right behind her walking down the aisle . . . and yet, here we are.
“Come on, you look amazing. When are you going to tell me the secret to keeping your hair so shiny and healthy?” I ask.
“Being Polynesian is a good place to start,” she says, her deep brown eyes dancing with amusement. “But besides that, coconut oil works wonders.”
We laugh again as a waiter appears at our table with waters. Once he takes our orders—the Chinese chicken chopped salad for me, and a Cobb salad for her—we dive into catching up, eager to hear about everything we missed by not living in the same city.
“I still can’t believe you opened your own firm,” Sadie says, leaning forward and resting her chin on her palm, her eyes wide.
“It sounds a lot harder than it actually is. I was practically running the place at my last firm, and not getting paid for the work I was doing got old really fast. Once I found an office space that was affordable, the rest was history.”
“You’re a force, Layne. You really are.”
“Stop it. What about you? A transfer to Los Angeles has to mean good things for you, right?”
“Well, I’m certainly not doing anything as exciting as running my own law firm, but yeah, it’s kind of a big deal. I’d heard rumors months ago that they were looking for someone to replace the head of HR at the main office, but I swear, I never thought in a million years it would be me.”
