Page 89 of A Bossy Roommate

Oh, damn! Do you need to talk about it?

Me:

I’m good, girl. Thanks. Just want to get some work done.

Gretchen:

I’m here if you need me. Smiley emoji

I smile and type a “thank you” back before I take a final deep breath and get back to work.

I haven’t beenat it long before Carter’s mahogany office double door opens. He holds his tablet and is looking at something on it as he approaches my desk, not bothering to look up.

“Hey,” he says, “so I was just looking over those reports I asked you to pull, and we’re missing a couple of our smaller accounts.”

“Sorry, I’ll rerun it.”

There must have been something off about my response because Carter looks up and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

He raises his eyebrow, not believing me for a second. “Eden, I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well by now. What’s going on? Was the phone call bad news?”

“Nope, no bad news. Just unfortunate news.” I keep my explanation brief, not wanting it to derail our work conversation or distract me. “I’m sorry about the report. I’ll fix it right now.”

I turn back to my computer to do just that when Carter puts his tablet down. He leans on my desk, forcing my attention back to him. “Would you like to discuss it?” he asks, with a quiet and gentle tone. “I’m here to listen, Eden. Please come into my office.”

My heart suddenly begins to race. His expression is soft and one I so rarely see, especially in the office, that it takes my breath away. I’m tempted to talk to him, to tell him everything the attorney said, and vent my frustrations. But now isn’t the time or the place.

“I appreciate it, but I’m okay,” I say. “It’s not something I want to talk about here.”

He nods in understanding, picking up his tablet again. “We’ll open some wine this evening and you can tell me about it. So, anyway, back to this report.”

And just like that, he’s in work mode.

He goes right back to “Boss Carter.”

The switch gives me whiplash, and I find myself having a tough time keeping track of what he’s saying. Expectedly, Carter has drawn a clear line between what is appropriate to talk about at work and what needs to be kept out of the office, and I agree with that, one hundred percent. But for him to be the one to get personal, to offer to listen, has thrown me off. Not because he hasn’t done it before. It was the way he did it. He’d said “please.” He’d said, “Pleasecome into my office.”

I feels like something has shifted between us, though I’m not exactly sure when it happened. Or what that means about our relationship.

Trying not to read too much into it, I rerun the report for him and handle several other tasks.

The restof the day passes without incident. My mood improves even more when the afternoon comes and someone from HR hand-delivers my paystub.

“I hadcompletelyforgotten it was my first payday,” I tell her.

I hadn’t forgotten, but it feels cool to say it. Then I immediately apologize for saying it because: karma. We laugh, and once she’s gone, I do a quick check of my bank account on my phone and breathe a sigh of relief.Thank Godfor direct deposit.

It feels good to have more than fifteen dollars to my name. A lot more. The amount that smiles back at me displays not just my salary, but also the weekend marriage bonus I’d deposited from Carter’s check, though it had taken a while to appear in the bank. A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders, and I can breathe. Finally, I can afford to gas up Kiki, fix her windshield wipers, and start driving to work.In case of emergency, I correct myself, immediately thinking of my sister and her efforts to run an ecological and sustainable company. Every contribution counts, and I’ll walk the distance or use the train as often as I can without penalizing myself for occasionally using Kiki.

As usual, when the end of the day rolls around, I leave before Carter does, welcoming my walk home. It’s become a reliable source of exercise and a way to clear my head after a long, busy day. The route is now ingrained in my memory, and I could walk the same path blindfolded if I needed to. While I walk, I consider taking the sweet offer by HR—that had been sent through by Carter—to leave my car in the parking garage both in the mornings and afternoons to save money and to avoid it heating up.

With money in my bank account, it’s time for a celebratory treat. Without a second thought about the scales and healthy choices (screw that!), I stop at one of the many delicious food places on my route. Since Carter had mentioned wine anddinner, I opt to visit a bakery and pick up something sweet for dessert. Since their mouth-watering cinnamon rolls are sold out (a moment of silence, please!) along with any cupcakes (oh, the memories!Sigh!), I settle on their iconic NYC black-and-white cookies. They’rewaymore expensive than any cookies would have been in my hometown. But by now—bougie as I am—I’m used to New York’s hefty price tag.

When I get home, I make my way to the apartment, humming to myself. At some point this afternoon, I’d let go of the frustrating news Sarah had given me, not wanting it to mar the rest of my day. I’m glad I did, because when I manage to reach the apartment, I remember that Aunt Eleanor is going to be staying with Hattie—meaning Carter and I will be…alone.

Only the two of us.

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