Page 54 of A World Without You
I shake my head. “I mean, I made some Chocolate crinkle cookies, and they were gone before I even sat down. Sorry you missed out.”
Colin is still a statue. Only now, he finally blinks. I glance at the empty container, and he nods once, very slowly.
“Anyway, Kennedy is out sick, and I need someone to take meeting minutes while I meet with the VP of Marketing. They told me to ask a temp. Would you be willing?” His voice is monotone to my ears. Gone is the affection, the warm honey tone of his vibrato that used to whisper against the skin on my neck.
“Sure,” I answer. “I’d be happy to. What time is the meeting?”
“One.” Another clipped answer, and this time, his eyes are avoiding mine. He isn’t really looking at me or even through me, just around me.
“Conference room three?” I ask.
“Two.”
I nod. “I’ll be there.”
He walks away before I even finish the sentence.
TWELVE
Thursday, December 14th
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THE NEXT FIVE HOURStick by excruciatingly slowly. I answer phone calls and make copies, and send a few company-wide emails reminding employees about the ice-skating party in Bellevue. It sounds very playful, juvenile, and exclusive to permanent employees—which is a bummer because I have no plans tomorrow night and would rather not be cooped up with my feelings in my childhood bedroom. I sigh and hit send, letting the email escape to the masses.
By the end of the morning, I realize whoever was in charge of the Christmas music playing through the speakers needed to add more than twelve songs to the setlist.
“Ready?” Colin asks me at five till one.
I already had my laptop and notepad ready, anticipating he’d want to get to the meeting early—some things never change. I follow him down the long hallway to the conference room, and I ignore the draft coming off his shoulders.
The meeting is full of Wellingtons Execs, the advertising team, and Colin’s marketing team. I have been nodded at by everyone in this room, but I’m certain no one knows my name. Not even Joe, who waves at me and says, “Hi, Lauren.”
“Olivia,” Colin corrects, but he doesn’t look at me or Joe.
“Right,” Joe says. “I don’t know why I can’t ever remember it.”
