Page 37 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"The meeting starts in twenty minutes." I grab my tablet, nearly dropping it. "We should head to the conference room before Keith starts another revolution."

"Mac." His voice drops lower, and I absolutely cannot handle that tone right now. Not today. Not when my ex-husband's email is still burning on my screen.

“I’ll be there,” I declare firmly. “Need some coffee first.”

He studies me for a moment longer, then nods. "After you, Ms. Gallo."

I sweep past him, trying to channel twenty years of corporate confidence and definitely not thinking about how his cologne reminds me of last night's almost-kiss or how Roberto's news makes me feel simultaneously ancient and furious.

Behind me, I hear Lucia whisper something to Alex, probably warning him about my mood. I keep walking. I’mdefinitely not in the right space to hear my sister conspiring with my boss about my emotional state.

Alex’s footsteps fade, as I head to the break room, but from behind me, I can hear the clicking of Lucia’s heels.

A second later, my phone buzzes with a text from Roberto: "Did you get my email? Can we meet for coffee to discuss?"

And just like that, my carefully constructed professional façade cracks.

Now, in the break room, I start reaching for the cabinets, grabbing everything in eyesight. I can feel Lucia stop behind me.

She’s silent for a minute before speaking. “You planning on rearranging the entire break room, or yo just blowing off steam?” She asks.

"Neither." I arrange the coffee pods by intensity level, ignoring Keith's manifesto about "bean equality" taped to the machine. "I'm implementing systematic change through strategic organization."

"Uh-huh." She picks up a stray pod. "Is that why you've color-coded the creamer options and alphabetized the tea selection?"

"It's a science-based approach to workplace efficiency."

"Right. And the fact that you're stress-cleaning like Nonna before Christmas has nothing to do with almost kissing Alexander Drake in Brad's Crying Corner?"

I drop a box of sugar packets. "How did you?—"

"Please." She helps me collect the scattered packets. "Brad's already written three pages about it in the wellness journal. He's calling it 'When CEO Met Consultant: A Corporate Love Story.' There are doodles."

Oh goody. Just what I wanted from Santa for the holidays.

Office fanfiction about my love life.

Seems that, even at my “big age” of forty-two, there’s still no getting past workplace drama.

"Nothing happened," I insist, though my treacherous mind flashes back to how Alex looked in the lightning flashes, how his hands felt on my waist, how?—

"Your face is doing that thing again." Lucia interrupts my thoughts. "The same thing it did when Roberto first asked you out, except this time you're not twenty-five and hopefully smarter about emotionally unavailable men in expensive suits."

"I am not?—"

"Ms. Gallo?" Emma appears in the break room doorway, tablet in hand. "Mr. Drake would like to see you in his office. He cancelled the staff meeting, but still would like a word. Something about Keith's latest... initiative."

I look past her to where Keith has apparently transformed the ping pong table into what he's calling the "Round Table of Resource Revolution." He's wearing a crown made of Post-it notes and holding the paddle like a scepter.

"Now?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

Emma's expression suggests she's questioning every career choice that led her here. "Unless you'd prefer to wait until after he finishes his PowerPoint about 'Breaking the Chains of Project Management Tyranny.'"

I straighten my blazer – navy today, because wearing green felt too much like admitting I'd noticed how it matched Alex's eyes – and head for his office.

Through the glass walls (still hate them), I can see him on the phone, looking devilishly kissable for someone who spent last night trapped in a meditation room during a power outage. His tie is the exact shade of blue as my blazer, which is either cosmic irony or Emma's subtle way of mocking us both.

He waves me in just as I hear him say, "No, Grayson, I'm not breaking the bachelor pact. Yes, I'm aware of the yacht bet. Now, are you going to stop goddamned pestering me, or am I going to have to bring up the Bali-monkey pictures?” He waits abeat. “Alright then. I’ll see you at the Apex club on Wednesday.”

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