Friendly Advice

EVIE

~Ping~. My iPhone chimed from my nightstand, and I reluctantly opened my woozy eyes.

I had to squint against the relentless morning light beaming through the pale pink drapes. Apparently, I’d been too tipsy to close the curtains before bed.

It was still weird being back here, in my childhood home, sleeping in my childhood bedroom. My full-size bed was perfectly centered against the back wall, dressed in a fluffy, rose-pink comforter, sandwiched between two tiny black nightstands.

My parents had kept everything the same as I left it, as if they’d expected this moment from the start. They never really liked Greg. Both of them said he was dismissive of my feelings. I guess now I was realizing I should’ve listened.

I let out a sigh, heaving my head up from my pillow. Who the hell had the nerve to text me this early, waking me from my drunken slumber before my alarm?

It took me a minute to force my blurry eyes to focus on the paragraph, too small to read before having my regular cup of caffeine.

It was from an unknown number, but the first sentence made it obvious exactly who was texting.

Unknown

I’m sorry about last night. I had no right to do what I did, and I hope you accept my apology. We’ve got a late night tonight at the office, so to make it up to you, I’ll buy dinner while we go over the contract with Lowry’s firm.

I rolled my eyes, allowing my fingers to dance across the screen, speaking for me.

Evie

Why do I have to be involved? I’m just a secretary.

Unknown

Well, you don’t have to be, but I could use a former business owner’s take on the numbers and documents.

Evie

Don’t you have lawyers for that?

My mind rehashed each word fired between us last night as I watched the three little dots at the bottom of our exchange.

Unknown

To make sure nothing is slipped into the contract worded in a way that will hurt my business, yes. But as far as the internal conflict goes, I’m struggling.

~Yeah, that’s not the only thing you’re struggling with, dude…~

The man had been unquestionably jealous last night—which I didn’t understand, because we’d already agreed that nothing could happen between us. Not now that Sam was my boss.

Besides, I hadn’t been lying when I said the jealousy was a turn-off. I got more than enough of that in my relationship with my ex-husband, Greg.

Back when I was running my floral shop, Greg always made a big deal about how he disapproved of me helping men with arrangements for their significant others. If I wore a little makeup, perfume, or a low-cut blouse to work, I wouldn’t hear the end of it for days.

Never mind the irony that I was always faithful to Greg while he cheated on me for months. Now that the dust had settled on our relationship, I vowed that I would never again let a man dictate to me like that.

Hopefully Sam got that message last night. I didn’t mind the idea of working late with him tonight—as long as he could keep his hands and his opinions to himself.

I shot off one final text.

Evie

Alright, Vázquez.

I put the phone face-down on the mattress before collapsing back onto my pillow.

I barely got a minute to rest before my bedroom door swayed open and Saanvi poked her head inside, smiling when she saw I was still alive.

Her red flannel pajamas were decorated with tiny white deer. They reminded me of the ones we both used to wear as kids on Christmas Eve—back when I still believed in the magic of the holidays.

She trailed over and plopped on the edge of my mattress. “So, do you wanna talk about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome yet?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that,” I said.

“All the alcohol in the world wouldn’t make me forget a man like that.”

~Yeah, same here, unfortunately.~

“Saanvi?” I asked with a sigh. “When you and Tim were first dating, what was it like?”

She seemed surprised at the change of subject, but she went with it. “It was chaos. One day we’d be banging on a pile of books, the next we’d be fighting, and then he’d graciously straighten my back out on his table,” she said with a chuckle.

“And I don’t mean that in a dirty way,” she added. “He ~literally~ had to fix my back after the thing with the books.”

The thing I’d always admired about Saanvi and Tim’s marriage was that even after twelve years, the passion was still there. I could admit…that passion faded between Greg and me. I didn’t know when exactly, but it was long before I caught him cheating.

“Did he ever get jealous?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. He still does, but I kinda like it, you know?” She shrugged. “Nothing over the top. I would never put up with Tim treating me like Greg treated you—no offense. But yeah, sometimes there’s a tinge of jealousy. Honestly, it kinda turns me on.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it just”—she smiled to herself as if she were reliving a particular memory—“means he cares.”

I understood that, actually. I couldn’t tell last night if I wanted to slap Sam or fuck him. Obviously, in the sober light of day, I realized I couldn’t do either one. As we’d already established, he was my boss. Still, it had been exciting in the moment.

“Evie?” Saanvi grasped my arm, her eyes full of sympathy. “When you’re ready to talk about the man from last night, my ears are open. But just remember, you deserve happiness. No matter how soon after your divorce it comes.”

I smiled and nodded, a lump in my throat. As Saanvi rose from the bedspread and left, I picked up my phone, encountering another message from the nameless number.

Unknown

I really am sorry, Evie…

I sighed, saving the number in my cell as “Vázquez” before texting back.

Evie

I forgive you.

***

That night, as promised, Sam kept me at work long after the building was empty.

Warm, white Christmas lights spanned the tops of the bald branches lining Main Street. The clear, starry sky shone through the vast window in Sam’s office, aiding the modest desk lamp in illuminating the daunting night ahead.

Sam relaxed in his tar-colored chair, studying the contents of a manila folder, while I sat across from him reading documents of my own. Cartons of Chinese food littered the desk. We flipped through pages in silence, periodically pausing for a bite of egg roll.

Out of my peripheral vision, I caught him dropping his file on top of the stack on his desk. I expected him to reach for another, but instead he just sat there, looking thoughtful.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, peeking toward him.

“I just…” He sighed. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“Look,” I said, surrendering my own papers too. “If Lowry wants ten percent, then you’ve gotta give it to him. He’s the one helping you out with this merger. His firm doesn’t need it. You do. Somehow, he’s got to benefit.”

Hopelessness etched its way into Sam’s expression. “You know, when Carla left me, she took half my business funds and half of my bank account. I feel like I’ve lost a lot. Agreeing to give up even more is hard.”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “But you know that saying: when one door closes, another door opens?”

He nodded.

“Don’t wait for it to open. Kick it in and keep fighting.” I shrugged. “So what? You’ll lose ten percent of your revenues every quarter. But you’ll gain so much more.”

“And what exactly will I be gaining?” he asked skeptically.

“You’ll gain confidence in yourself, knowing you made the best out of an awful situation.” I shrugged, settled back in my chair, and crossed my legs.

“Look at me,” I pointed out. “After Greg, I sold my business, forgot everything, and ran. And part of me regrets that. But you? You’re going to keep your business, maybe even make it stronger. All it’ll cost is ten percent.”

Sam got kind of a dopey look in his dark eyes as he watched me across the desk. Weirdly, it reminded me of the night I unbuttoned his jeans at the bar. He looked as though I’d said something that impressed him.

His sculpted muscles, suit, and general aura of “high-status businessman” made him seem intimidating, but when he looked at me like that, I could swear he was just a massive softy. Thankfully, he couldn’t see my heart melting or my toes curling inside my pumps.

I smiled. “What?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, peeling his gaze from mine. The moment fading, he split the last stack of forms and slid half of them across the desktop toward me. Great—more work.

I deserved a treat for pulling overtime on my second day on the job.

I knelt, pulling out the candy cane my mother had snuck into my plum-purple handbag this morning. She always used to send me to school with candy around this time of year, back when I lived at home. I guess she’d decided to return to tradition.

With a soft crinkling noise, I peeled open the lengthy end and shoved it in my mouth. Hopefully, our workload and my candy would help keep my mind distracted from dangerous thoughts about Sam.