Page 35 of My Merry Mistake
I hear what she’s saying, and she’s right. Don’t change me, change my behavior. It makes me feel stupid, but I take the words to heart. I’ll be her friend—herrealfriend. Showing up for people is easy for me, and Gray’s right—that goes a long way.
“Hey, uh, is she coming tonight? Raya, I mean?” I ask, mentally preparing myself.
“Let me check.” Poppy picks up her phone as Eloise returns to the kitchen.
“Sorry, had to make out with my hot boyfriend for a minute.”
“Well, thank you for not doing it in the kitchen again,” Poppy says smartly, scrolling on her phone. Her face falls. “Oh.”
Eloise and I glance at each other, then Eloise says, “What?”
“I’m so sorry, Finn. Raya’s not coming.” Poppy clicks the phone off, sets it down, and looks at me.
“She’s on a date.”
Chapter Nine
Raya
It’s all going according to plan.
The preliminary interview was above average, his resumé had no typos, and a few well-crafted sentences stood out. Our first meeting for coffee checked the boxes.
So now, I’m halfway through my second trial date with Justin.
After about a half hour, he excuses himself to take a call. On a normal date that would bother me, but because he and I have this understanding—I’m fine with it.
It’s exactly the way I want it. It feels like this could happen here, in the restaurant, or at the office in one of the meeting rooms.
Zero feelings activated. It’s perfect.
I use the time he’s gone to send a few work emails. While this date is semi-important, it is cutting into my Denim and Diamonds work time. With the event coming up next month, there are a ton of details to manage.
I stifle a yawn as I scan an email from Jill with a list of tasks.
In addition to the fundraiser and holiday preparations, our team is also interviewing for three different positions in the HRand PR departments, which means the stack in my inbox is reaching new heights.
Once I get through this season—once we finish just a few of these projects—I’ll be able to breathe again.
Maybe if I keep repeating that to myself, it will become true.
But I thrive on this, right? Stress is my love language.
My last job as a corporate headhunter was alotmore cutthroat than this job. I thought I’d run that company one day. But the thought of seeing Rich every day after his move to the Chicago office was just too much.
When I met Rich, he lived and worked in our Seattle office. He’d fly into Chicago once a month, and we hit it off. I swore I’d never get swept up in romance after my only other serious relationship ended in disaster, but Rich had his charms.
I’m embarrassed to admit I fell for them.
And him. Hard.
We dated for months. I started thinking about words likeforeverandI do. We looked at engagement rings and dreamed about the day when we weren’t long distance anymore.
And then, one night, we were out to dinner, and a woman walked up to the table, glared at him, and called him by name.
Then, she looked at me and asked who I was. I fumbled a reply, my brain not really computing what was happening.
Rich muttered something like, “I can explain,” but I’m not sure which one of us he was talking to.
