Page 59 of More Than Pen Pals

“Okay.” I’m thankful she provided a plan, because my brain is in no shape to formulate one on its own.

Wendy hops off my desk and leaves before I can change my mind.

An hour later I’ve made several calls and typed up a few press releases. I’m chewing the end of my pen when someone knocks on my door.

I look up and smile at the man standing in the open doorway. “Come on in.”

George Carter enters my office. He leaves the door open but takes a seat—not in the purple chair.

“How’s everything going with Diego Sanchez?” he asks.

“Great!” I tell him about yesterday’s meeting, today’s game, and what I’ve accomplished since I returned.

“Excellent. Normally I wouldn’t give a client of this level to a new hire, but I knew you had it in you. Sure, you have more time to dedicate to Mr. Sanchez than anyone else, which is needed, but you also have something to prove, which is a good thing. It means you’ll do everything you can to get him the good press he needs. But you’re new in town, so if you need anything—any doors opened or access granted—let me know. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. And I won’t let you down.”

He stands. “I know you won’t.” As he exits my office he says, “Don’t work all evening. Take some time for yourself, or you won’t be able to give our clients your best.”

“Got it. Thanks again.”

He raises a hand as he disappears.

I spend another forty-five minutes finishing up my work. Then I fax the press releases to local media outlets and head out.

* * *

As I make my way toward my apartment building from the bus stop, I don’t pay any attention to my surroundings.

As I reach for the door handle of my building, a voice says, “Don’t I get a kiss hello?”

I freeze with my hand two inches from the door. I slowly turn my head and lock eyes with my former boyfriend, who’s leaning against the wall a few feet away. My heart races.

“Glenn, what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you, baby,” he says earnestly as he pushes off the wall. “I’ve missed you so much. When you didn’t call me back, I decided I’d drive up and see you, in case your phone wasn’t working.”

“You know my phone is working.” I still haven’t moved. “You left a message.”

He steps up to me and places his hands on my hips. “What if there was a power outage and you didn’t know I left the message?”

I take a step backward, out of his grasp. “You could’ve called again. You didn’t need to drive up here.”

Lines form on his forehead. “Do you not want me here?”

Why he’s acting like he doesn’t know the reason I wouldn’t want him to be here, I don’t know. It’s like he’s forgotten what he did—what he said.

I avoid answering his question. “I was planning to call you as soon as I got home from work.”

Glenn looks at his watch. “Why are you not getting home from work until seven o’clock on a Friday night? I’ve been waiting here forever.”

There’s no way I’m telling him about Diego Sanchez. He’ll try to get me to introduce him, which is not happening.

When I don’t respond, he says, “Are we going to keep standing out here? Come on, baby. Let’s go inside where we can talk and … you know, see where things go.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Things” are going nowhere in the vicinity of where he’s hoping. I can’t invite him into my apartment. I’m not worried he’ll force himself on me, but I won’t put myself into a situation where I might need to fend off his advances, either. This conversation requires a public location.

I step away from the door. “Follow me.” Then I head back down the sidewalk.

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