What on earth is wrong with me?
Jaclyn searched her desk drawers and all around her office for, of all things, a tissue. Her search yielded nothing but a box emptied by the occasional need for a napkin on those rare instances when she chose to eat. She’d shed more tears in the past week than in all of last year, and would definitely need to restock her Puffs supply.
What a jerk.
She grabbed her purse. No tissues, same as at the cemetery. But to the rescue was Richard’s handkerchief.
She’d half forgotten it, fully intending to have it cleaned before returning it. Thankful for her procrastination, she dabbed at her eyes, then at her nose, before holding the handkerchief there for a deep whiff. The soft fabric managed to capture the beautiful blend of fabric softener and his cologne. She breathed in his scent again.
Oh my God. Richard!
She checked her laptop. It was Friday. Nearly noon.
Hurriedly, she scrolled through her texts. He hadn’t confirmed. Not that she’d asked him to, but what if he never got the message? Or changed his mind?
Panicked, she started a text. Then erased it. Started again. Wiped it clean. This went on for a good ten minutes before she choked down her pride and called.
Straight to voice mail.
Of course. I deserve it.
“Hi, Richard. It’s—”
An incoming call came in from the number she’d just dialed. She hadn’t even programmed his name in yet.
Holding her breath, she clicked over and pulled in a huge breath of remorse. “Richard?”
“Hey, Jaclyn.” His voice was low. Disappointed, perhaps.
She wiped away a tear. “Listen, I—I’m sorry I’m so late getting back with you. I know I’ve been preoccupied. And distant. And I have no right to impose, but . . . I’d like to see you, if you’re available. I could come to you or meet you, anywhere at all.” She sat quietly on pins and needles, then pulled her emotions back in, letting him off the hook. “I completely understand if this is too last minute.”
His near-silent exhale was long and slow. “It’s not that. And you’re not imposing. Not at all. Let me shuffle some things around, and I’ll meet you. Are you at your office? I’m in the area, and I assume you work in the building with the name Long subtly showcased three stories high?”
She sniffed out a laugh. “That’ll be me. I’ll let security know to expect you.”
“Okay. See you in about an hour?”
“See you then.”
She disconnected and sent several emails, including one to security to expect Richard Austin at noon. She texted him a parking access scan and occupied the rest of the time wrapping things up for the week. Her eighty-hour workweek had taken its toll, and she was ready for a well-deserved escape from the grind. But not too overwhelmed to finally program him into her contacts.
Well, Mr. Black. Not all men are molded in your jackass image.
Speaking of which, Jaclyn looked back at the magazine, smiling as she grabbed a Sharpie. Just a few finishing touches fit for a king. King of the Assholes.
She drew out the teeth to fangs, joined his eyebrows to a V, and gave his dark wavy hair horns. Protruding from his pocket, she sketched a pitchfork. It just seemed to bring the look together.
As she admired her work, she considered what Jean’s reaction would be.
Hey, at least I didn’t crinkle it.