If I’m the one who approaches him, I can’t push him away. I have to be all in, which is exactly what Asher wants. He thinks it’s what I want as well, but is it?
Do I want to have sex with Asher Hawthorne?
“Hey.” A voice breaks into my thoughts, forcing my mind to go back into my body.
I nearly jump. No one’s ever approached me in the office cafeteria before. And I definitely wasn’t expecting anyone to.
I turn my head to see who it could be and find a familiar-looking petite brunette. Now, where have I seen her before?
Oh, right. She’s the one from outside the bathroom, one of the friends of that auburn-haired woman who tried to pick a fight with me.
“I’m Michelle,” she introduces herself with a smile, a real one this time. “Mind if I sit?”
She doesn’t seem to have any evil intentions, plus she’s carrying a full tray of food that she looks like she might drop at any moment, so I nod.
As she puts her things down, I wonder what she might want from me. There must be something or she wouldn’t be sitting with me. As I glance around, I notice there are plenty of free tables and seats.
This is on purpose. The question is: What’s her purpose? Is she here to apologize? But she didn’t have to sit with me to do that. Is she going to offer to be my friend because maybe she’s realized I don’t have any and the ones she has aren’t so good? Or is she just here to talk to me about makeup? Or maybe ask me about work?
“You’re Violet, right? I think that’s a nice name. It’s my favorite color, actually.”
She shows me her purple nail polish.
“I see.”
So she’s here to show off her nails?
“I’m so sorry about what Linda did. Linda, she’s the woman who said nasty things to you.”
I guess it’s option one, then—she’s here to apologize on behalf of her friend. The question is: Should I accept her apology?
“I hope you’ll forgive her,” she goes on. “Asher Hawthorne is like a hero to her. She nearly got fired once when she was going through her divorce. It was Mr. Hawthorne who let her stay.”
“Really?”
I guess Asher is a nice boss.
“But of course it’s up to you if you want to forgive her. You’re not obliged. I actually hate it when people say sorry and then get mad at you when you don’t forgive them. I won’t. Get mad, I mean. I’m not forcing you to forgive her. I was just trying to explain why she acted that way. And no, she didn’t send me to make excuses for her or ask me to apologize for her. I just thought I would since, well, she does owe you an apology and she knows it but she’s a little scared to talk to you.”
Which makes Michelle a good friend, though maybe one who talks too much.
“She’s scared?” I ask.
She didn’t seem scared when she was talking to me.
“Believe it or not, it took Linda a lot of courage to say the things she did,” Michelle says.
Which I actually kind of admire, especially now that I know how hard it is to be honest.
Honest? Wait a sec. Doesn’t honesty require that you already know something? But I don’t know what I want yet. Or do I and I’m just refusing to admit it, just like Linda knows she owes me an apology but won’t give me one because she’s scared of me?
I’ve always been the kind of person to know what I want. I know myself well, which means I already know whether or not I want to sleep with Asher. I know. I’m just having a hard time accepting it because I’m dishonest.
Or scared. More of scared.
“Violet?” Michelle’s voice pulls me back to earth again.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “You can tell Linda it’s fine. I forgive her.”
Michelle’s eyes grow wide. “Really?”
I nod. She was only being honest, after all. Besides, I’m not one to hold grudges.
Except the ones against the two men who broke my heart.
“By the way, I really do love your lipstick,” Michelle says.
I take the tube out from my purse and hand it to her so she can take a look at it.
“That’s what I use. I bought it in Paris.”
“Paris?” Her eyes grow wide again. “You’ve been to Paris?”
“A few times.”
It was only four hours from Zurich by train, after all.
“Wow.” Michelle hands me the lipstick back. “Now I really want to be your friend.”
She does? Come to think of it, I could use a friend. Maybe if I had someone to share my mind with, it wouldn’t drift off so often.
“I’m a really good friend,” Michelle assures me. “I’ll even share my dessert with you.”
She pushes her slice of chocolate cake towards me.