I rose from my chair, but she called over her shoulder, "I'll show myself out. Enjoy the snickerdoodles."
20
Natalie
When I got home, I spent the rest of the day painting. This wasn't the type of art that would ever end up in a gallery. It was more rage painting, therapeutic painting. There was something about the stroke of the brush on the canvas and the way the colors would mix sometimes harshly, sometimes gently, vibrant, angry colors merging together. By the end of the day, I had pulled out the picture, I had started of Hunter.
Working from the sketch, I began to paint it. It was still far from done, but slowly the image of him was revealing itself on the canvas. I wanted to be pissed off at him for how he responded to the gossip about us. But now, with some time away and cooling off, I could see that my reaction was no different. We both immediately thought only of ourselves. I suppose that was the reason why he and I would never work out. We were both too selfish.
Later that night, after several glasses of wine, as I was settling in bed to go to sleep, my phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Hunter.
It bothered me a little bit at how eager I was to hear his voice. I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"I'm not calling too late, am I?"
"No. Is everything all right?" I wondered if maybe something had happened to his father. Maybe he had a relapse.
"I need to apologize to you for earlier today, but I felt it would be better if I did it over the phone than in person so we could avoid spying eyes."
"That's smart. And I'm sorry too."
There was a pause for a moment. "Sorry for what?"
"I was only thinking of myself and not how this could impact you as well." Of course, I figured it would only add to his image, but clearly, despite the fact that he liked to live the playboy life, he didn't like the playboy notoriety.
"I made some calls today to see if I could get it taken down and I was told that trying to do that would just add fuel to the fire. So, I want to let you know I'm not going to respond and you probably shouldn't either."
I sighed and sank down into my pillows. "Yes, that makes sense. I won't say anything. I've been ignoring all the calls I've been getting."
"Good. I've also been trying to figure out how to make this right for you Natalie because I do believe in your talent, and I'd hate for this to hurt you. But I got the same response; if I try to do something, it'll just look more like what the article is accusing me of doing."
"Yes, I get it and I appreciate your thinking about that." My anger toward him softened more. I could hear the frustration in his voice, not just at being exposed like this, but at feeling helpless to fix it for me.
"You know, sometimes this type of publicity can actually be good. I mean people are going to think what they think about us, but perhaps it will garner more attention for your work. Once they see your work, they will see why we had the showing. They'll see your talent and maybe you'll sell more paintings."
Despite the fact that I felt like my career had come to an end, I smiled at his comment. "I never pegged you as an optimist, Hunter."
"Yeah, well I know you are, so fingers crossed that this comes out better in the end than it feels right now."
"Fingers crossed."
By the time I showed up to work again, I felt like that gossip piece was behind us. Not that I wouldn't have to endure the stares and speculation of the people I worked with, but that Hunter and I were back to where we’d been before. And after the interrogation I got from my sister about what was going on with Hunter and me, I figured I could handle anyone. I had to call out her hypocrisy, considering she’d been sleeping with her boss, but she pointed out that it was different since she and Ryan were married now and we both knew Hunter would never do that. In the end she just wanted me to be careful, and told me that she loved me.
Back at work, Hunter and I did our best to behave how we always did at work; professionally. But there was a different energy or vibe going on and it wasn't because the people I worked with were wondering about me and Hunter. It was because there was something different about Hunter. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was that was because to all outward appearances, he seemed to be behaving exactly the same as he had before. But I felt like there was some sort of distance between us now. I had to consider that maybe he was thinking of ending things. That saddened me, and yet the practic
al, rational part of me knew that perhaps it was for the best.
I took my lunch a little early so I could avoid seeing other people in the breakroom, and having to explain the gossip on the Internet. When Margaret Strong walked in, I wished I'd gone with the option of having to be grilled by my coworkers because I definitely didn't want to be interrogated by the CEO of the company.
"Mrs. Strong. How are you?" I said, mustering the biggest smile I could.
"I'm very well Ms. Nicole, and you? You're getting along okay here at Strong Incorporated?"
That felt like a loaded question because getting along well could imply my visits with Hunter. Did she know? I gave my head a quick shake. Of course, she knew. If she hadn't read the article, Andi would have and told her about it. But I had to answer something. "I'm very thankful for the opportunity."
"I hear from my grandsons that you're doing very good work."
"I'm glad to hear that. Can I get you some tea or something?" Inwardly I kicked myself because I didn't want to sit and have tea with Margaret Strong, but it seemed rude not to offer something.