Page 53 of A World Without You
“Oh no, are you already disgruntled?” he asks.
I laugh. “No, I’m teasing. However, temps can be rather grouchy. You’d think they were going through a divorce and undoing their entire life.”
“Not that again.” He rolls his eyes as Joe, an ad exec with a pension and an office, moseys over to us. He’s the man in the office with the themed ties—every day. Even if they’re outdated and make it seem like he’s fifty-seven instead of thirty-two, he rocks one every day without fail—even on casual Fridays. Today, his tie is covered in Santa Claus faces.
“Oh, can I have one of those?” Joe says, then turns to Bennett. “You ready to meet, buddy?”
“Sure,” Bennett says.
“I like your tie,” I say, and Joe looks down, flipping the fabric between two fingers like he forgot which one he was wearing.
“Thanks, Leslie,” he says, and I press my eyes closed, not wanting to correct him.
“It’s Olivia,” Bennett corrects.
“Who? The girl you were seeing last week?” Joe asks, and Bennett winces.
“No, her name is Olivia.”
Joe’s mouth drops into an O, but he is otherwise unbothered. “Right, sorry. It’s hard to keep track of the temps.”
Bennett’s jaw tenses, and I’m struck by the fondness I feel for him.
“Thank you for the cookies,” Joe says, then he turns to head back to his office.
But before Bennett follows, he pauses, dipping his mouth low to my ear and whispers, “No pressure, but Colin is coming.”
The back of my neck starts to sweat, and I cinch my shoulders back. “What? Are you serious? How do I look?”
He drags his eyes over me and offers a hesitant smile, before he says, “Fine.”
“Fine?” I shriek. “I need to look more thanfine,Bennett.”
“Fine, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and he’s going to fall at your feet because of your beauty.”
I glare at him. He smiles.
“There he is,” he whispers, “Slay, girl, slay!”
I glare even harder. “Don’t try to be cool.”
He winces. “Doesn’t work for me?”
“No. God, now leave before you embarrass me.”
He boops my nose. “Knock ’em dead, kid.”
I can’t help it. I smile at his back as he walks away, frozen in surprise at the way he booped my nose the same way I booped his in my dream last night. Then I remember how much he hated me. I swallow my internal questions and plop into my chair with enough force I glide into a half-turn and blow out a breath as I look at the remaining crumbs in the container.
“Olivia.” His voice will never cease to startle me even when I know he is steps away.
I sit forward, “Colin,” I choke on nothing but the simple fact I am once again unprepared to speak to him. I was certain I would have to seek him out today, and force-feed him cookies while I begged for forgiveness.
Or something like that.
“I have a favor to ask—” he begins, just as I say, “I made you cookies.”
Colin freezes, his fingers mid-hover over the tablet in his hands. His lips as they were speaking. His steel gray eyes unblinking. Every part of him goes still. “Okay...” he says slowly.
