Once And Forever: Virtually Impossible Part 10

"No matter what happens, I'll never complain about you."

"Even if you don't, I wouldn't be able to work with you anymore."

"What if I hired you full-time and kept my mouth shut?"

"Then you'd be a liar," she snapped. "And I'd be a wh.o.r.e."

I flinched back in my chair. "Whoa! That's not at all what I meant. Not even a tiny bit. All I'm trying to do is find a solution. I'm not asking for more than a meeting." Right now. After a moment, I asked, "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "But I still don't think it's a good idea."

"What if we'd met somewhere else, in one of those chat rooms or something and you didn't work for me? Would you agree to meet me for dinner?"

"In this scenario, are you married?"

"Barely." In this scenario or not. "We've both admitted that it's over, but it's still not public record. Would you say yes to dinner?"

"Yes." It came out as a whisper, like a secret she didn't want to share or admit to. So I knew neither of us was speaking hypothetically anymore.

I sighed, feeling unbelievably selfish, and unbelievably happy, and unbelievably guilty all at the same time.

"I never want to hurt you or create any problems for you."

"Too late."

"Have I hurt you?"

"No, but you've created a lot of problems."

"Ah, well then, I-"

"Because I want to meet you, too. And that's not good."

I couldn't have disagreed more. It was very good. All I had to do now was find a way to make the hypothetical into something real.

"I'd like to meet you, talk to you in person. That's all. I have zero intention of doing anything else. We would just be two people who get along, getting along face-to-face. Is that possible?"

"No."

I sighed. I was so used to getting my way, being able to logically argue my point until the other person had no choice but to agree. This wasn't business, though. This was more personal, more... me. That's what made it so different and so frightening.

"How would meeting me be any worse than autocorrect and typos?"

"To err is human, Hayden," she said wistfully.

So is to love.

12.

Andi "Are we there yet?" I asked Emilia about two minutes into our jog. By 'jog,' I mean twenty feet of traditional jogging followed by thirty feet of dragging my feet while we power-walked. And by 'power-walk,' I mean walk slowly with bent elbows and fisted hands.

"Not even close. So you gonna tell me what happened or what?"

"Nothing, why?" Oh, s.h.i.t. Rob must have told her about being blackmailed and that I was supposed to get him out of it. I still hadn't decided what to do. Every time Hayden sent me something about Inspex, I felt like I needed to throw up. What information could I possibly give Rob that wouldn't do ma.s.sive damage to Hayden's project?

Or maybe Emilia had spoken to Hayden, and he'd told her he was feeling uncomfortable or that he needed to switch to a more professional a.s.sistant, a smart one. Totally logical, because right now, I didn't qualify.

"Well, something happened, because up until two seconds ago, your smile was huge. And don't blame the sunlight again."

Oh. I blew out a breath, even heavier than the last few. I hated keeping things from her, but I knew how badly she would freak out if I told her about the conversation I'd had with her husband. Plus, that wasn't what I'd been smiling about. "Runner's high just wore off."

"We've gone about five hundred feet." True, but early in the morning in Golden Gate Park, weaving in and out and around all the other runners tripled the actual distance traveled.

I stalled until I knew she wasn't going to let me out of it. "Someone messaged me." And I shouldn't be thinking about it or re-reading it in my mind obsessively.

"Are you s.e.xting with someone? I can't get Rob to do that with me. He claims it's something about getting a hard-on at work, but what's the point of having your own firm if you can't get a hard-on whenever you want, right?" Her smile was tight from the effort we were putting into our twice-a-week torture run.

"I agree with Rob. Not because of the hard-on thing, but because I know how easy it is for other people to find that stuff online." I thought of Hayden's last message-'Just looked up how much I pay you an hour. To save money and time, from now on, I'm going to leave all the vowels out of my texts. Thx :)' Then the next: 'Btw yr gttng mr mny nw.' It had taken me a minute to try all the possible vowel combinations. Once I'd figured it out, I thanked him for the raise.

"This one was a regular message," I said. "But it was...cute."

"What the h.e.l.l? Cute? Andi Clark used the word 'cute.' Definite sign of the apocalypse."

"I seriously hope you're wrong. No way could we outrun a zombie yet." I wiped my hands over my face-hiding and trying to wipe off any sign of happiness that might be on there. "Ugh. I'm stupid-smiling about someone I have no right to stupid-smile over."

"Why not?"

"I have a confession."

"Say two Hail Marys and call me in the morning."

"I'd rather have two b.l.o.o.d.y Marys and call you in the morning." I slowed down and stepped off the path so we wouldn't get trampled by other runners-not that I'd really consider us runners, of course. But we were trying.

She followed me, taking her water bottle out of the clip at her waist. "Confess quickly, before my heart rate goes back to sitting-on-the-couch level."

"I should've told you right away, but I wasn't sure what it meant or if it meant anything."

"Yikes, Andi is wearing her serious face today. What's up?"

We rested while I considered how to tell her about Hayden. "I think I screwed up again."

Emilia's body tightened. "In what way?" I couldn't blame her for being suspicious. She had every reason to be. When I screwed up, I screwed up big. And she always felt obligated to find a solution. It wasn't what I wanted, and I'd told Emilia countless times not to do it, but it always happened anyway. Which might be one of the reasons why I waited so long to tell her anything. But this one could affect her business, so I had to come clean. At least partially. Kind of like when you take a shower but don't wash your hair-that kind of coming clean.

"A line may have been crossed with one of my clients."

"What kind of line?" she asked after a long sigh. Probably more from needing oxygen after our attempted run than from frustration with me, but I wouldn't put money on it.

"Nothing physical, but we get along a bit too well. Professionally speaking."

"Well, is it harmless workplace-type flirting, men-and-women-can't-ever-be-friends kind of thing, or something more serious?"

I shrugged. "I don't know about his side, but on mine, it's like flirting-with-intent."

"And he flirts back?"

"Yeah, but probably without intent. Or at least not the same intent." Although in our last actual conversation, he'd pretty much put it out there-he had 'some' feelings for me. But he didn't specify that they were romantic, so I'd convinced myself they were more curious than anything else. Like how I wondered what having a p.e.n.i.s would be like-I didn't actually want to have one because there were way too many downsides, but I was still curious and would want to play with it a little. Ugh. Bad example.

"Which client are we talking about?"

"I don't want to tell you. Not until I've figured it out."

"How long is that going to take? Because patience isn't my thing."

"I've noticed. But I don't want to get him in trouble, and you need the challenge."

"I drank a kale and avocado smoothie for breakfast this morning-there's no greater challenge than that." She nodded toward the path and, after I grudgingly agreed, we started running again. "Just tell me if it's the s.e.x toy salesman."

"It's not the s.e.x toy salesman. Happy?"

"Not as happy as you'd be if it was the s.e.x toy salesman, but whatever." She laughed. "Okay, before I take the mystery man off your book, you should ask him if whatever you're thinking is reciprocated."

I stopped again, but not because I was trying to get out of the run. "Ask him? That's the worst idea ever." Especially because I'd be thinking about playing with his p.e.n.i.s.

"Not outright, but not like we're in junior high either. We're adults, and adults can deal with this stuff honestly yet tactfully." She grabbed my arm and pulled me to continue. "Look, you need as many clients as possible. So unless you're absolutely sure one or both of you can't handle it, then you should figure out how to deal with it. Then the question becomes: If he's not romantically interested in you, can you keep your hands on your keyboard and out of your pants?" She laughed.

"This isn't funny, Em!"

"Yes, it is. Because I've never seen you like this before, and it's making my day."

I smacked her shoulder.

"Come on, this is you, Andi. You're smart and a great person. You'd never do anything horribly inappropriate. But since I don't know him, if you find out for sure that he's flirting-with-intent back, then I'll a.s.sign him to another VA. But I don't want to if it's all in your head."

Was it? Was it all in my head? Maybe. Possibly. Probably. Even if it weren't, nothing would happen other than me feeling a little uncomfortable while I worked with him. If we could continue working together.

"Second confession," I said. "He wants to meet. He knows we're not allowed unless he goes through you. But he didn't ask you-he asked me. So that implies it's social, right?"

She glanced at me quickly before refocusing on the path ahead. "Well, the good news is that just because a guy wants to see a woman socially, she isn't actually required to say yes. We won that right a couple years ago. If he hasn't realized that and takes it badly, then I'll take him off your book and everyone else's. We don't need those kinds of clients."

"He's not like that. I don't think he would take it badly. He'd probably do the opposite-apologize and be all n.o.ble and stuff. That's the problem...or one of them."

I couldn't even refer to our jog as power-walking anymore. It was more like slow-motion walking. Until Emilia figured it out and yanked my arm to make me speed up.

"I changed my mind. He sounds awesome, and you just stupid-smiled about him. So right after you fill Sara in on whatever work you've been doing for him, I'll take him off your book and put him on hers. And then you'll be free to go and get him."

"I can't do that! Because of the third thing, which is actually the thing I should've started with because it's the biggest, most important, and the reason I'm a horrible person for even thinking about him in that way." I paused, concentrating on taking in the air I'd missed during my rant. Plus, admitting you're a terrible person and admitting why you're a terrible person are two entirely different things-one takes a lot more courage than the other. "He's married."

"Wait." She stopped running and looked at me with wide eyes. "Have we been talking about Hayden Bennett this whole time?"

I grabbed her arm and pulled her off the path before she got us run over. "Maybe."

"It is! Oh man, can you imagine Hayden Bennett selling s.e.x toys?"

"Now I can," I muttered. "Thanks a lot."

"Flirting with intent, huh?" Emilia took a sip of water, studying me. "Yes, Hayden is married, but I don't think it's going to last much longer. According to some gossip I may or may not have overheard at the club the other day, they haven't been seen out together in about a year, and I don't think they've ever been seen together smiling. Not that you should move on it, of course. Not until they're 100% split up."

I stopped panting, then stopped breathing entirely. "Are you suggesting that I camp out on his doorstep, hoping his wife leaves him?"

"G.o.d, no. You'd freeze your a.s.s off." She laughed. "Stop being so serious, Andi. You barely know each other, and you've never met. Obviously, I don't think you should mess with a married man. And I know you would never do that, so what's the big deal?"

"It's not a big deal. It's a medium-sized deal." Why did anything with the word "deal" in it make me hungry?

I started jogging again, a little faster so we could finish this run and conversation, and I could go home to do some emotional eating. "It's entirely possible that our conversations would look completely harmless to an outsider and mean nothing to him. But for me, they're not. That's the problem. My problem. Do I try to ignore the way I feel and keep working with him, or do I just give up now?"

"Okay. So we're just discussing whether or not you should keep working for him?"

"Yes." For my sanity. For all the time I waste imagining about how we might meet, what he would say, what I would say-which in my head is always really smart sounding, but in reality, would be the exact opposite. But all that fantasizing was becoming a full-time job. And reality isn't patient.

"But," Emilia said, "if he were to split with his wife-which would have nothing to do with you because I know you'd never do that-then whatever happens happens."

I knew she just wanted me to be happy, to find someone who was as good to me and for me as Rob was to her.

"Just because it happened for you, doesn't mean it will for everyone."

"I know," she said. "And it would never have happened if Rob had been married. Most relationships born in the office are like tall, dry gra.s.s. They catch fire really easily, but then it gets so out of control all you can do is run like h.e.l.l. Which is why I have the policies I do about interaction with clients." She smirked. "But it would be so great, wouldn't it?"

"Give it up, Em. It's not going to happen." With Hayden or with anyone. I had way too many problems and too many examples of my truly horrible judgment.

"It's strange, though. Rob and I share a lot of the same friends with Hayden and Clare. And a lot of them share share, if you know what I mean."

I did-without her wink and weird facial expression. Rich people were easily bored, and bored people would do almost anything to stop being bored, including activities that might be considered risky or stupid. From what I could tell, Hayden worked all the time. So did that mean he didn't have time to be bored, or that he was trying to avoid the kinds of activities boredom encouraged?

"That's why it took me so long to figure out we were talking about Hayden," Emilia said. "Everything I've ever heard about him is that he's a workaholic who hates social drama and never steps out on his wife."

Why did the idea that he had integrity and was faithful disappoint me? "Well then, I guess that means he's happy with her, doesn't it?" My gaze didn't leave the ground in front of us, not until we reached Emilia's car. I couldn't deal with this. With him. It was causing more stress on my heart than the torture Emilia had just put us through.

"I need a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary." Maybe then I'd gather up enough courage to go fire my amazingly n.o.ble billionaire client. Actually, firing him would kill two birds with one stone-I couldn't exactly leak information about Inspex if I wasn't working on it, could I?

Perfect solution. Of course, if it was so perfect, why did I suddenly feel the need to throw up? Oh, right. I always felt the need to throw up after doing anything that made my underb.o.o.bs sweat.