“Are you feeling okay?”
“No.” I spoke the last text to Millie out loud, then realized how that would sound to Sam and corrected myself. “Yes, I’m fine. I just remembered there’s something I have to do.”
I’m fine,I texted. I’ll catch you up later.
Come by Caleb’s place after work,Millie suggested.
I wasn’t sure if I would do that or not, but the conflict seemed too big for a text chat. Okay, I responded, grabbing my purse.
“See you tomorrow?” Sam asked.
“Right,” I agreed, walking out.
I passed the receptionist on the way to the elevator. She gave me a look that was unmistakable. She knew what had happened in the break room. She’d seen Kent and me emerge from the kitchen in a rage. She must have deduced that there was some romantic aspect to our argument because she gave me a knowing smile.
I responded with a tight grin. It was a little disconcerting to know that she was in on every little thing that had just happened. We would have to be more careful if we were going to advance our collective office romance. I didn’t want word getting out that I was seeing multiple partners. Just dating Damien was scandalous enough.
But the receptionist didn’t seem to be judging me or us. She only wanted to let me know that she knew and that she seemed to be on my side. I filed that tidbit of information away for later. At the moment, I had more pressing concerns.
With nowhere to go and no one to talk to, I sat in my car for a moment. A flash of inspiration came to me. I could talk to Petra. The woman I met at the party, the one who owned a bakery. I would bet dollars to donuts that she was still at work. And since it was around three in the afternoon, there probably wouldn’t be many customers.
She was just the person I needed to talk to. She knew about Damien from our quick conversations as I picked up sweet treats on occasional mornings. She knew about Kent because she had been there when he offered me the job. The only person she didn’t know about was Sean, and I could fill her in on that opportunity pretty quickly.
The bakery was just a few miles from the office. I put the car into gear and slid out of the parking garage. On the way, I fantasized about all three of them. Not at once but one right after the other. I imagined walking into Damien’s office and climbing onto his lap. After that, I would go to Kent’s office and let him fuck me standing up. And when I was good and exhausted from the other two conquests, I would seek out Sean. Maybe I would have him in the break room, or maybe we would spread out on his desk.
It was crazy. I absolutely could not follow my heart if that’s where it led me. The thought of myself sleeping around the office was tantalizing but also embarrassing. Millie was special, I reasoned. She was one in a million who could get away with more than one boyfriend. It just wasn’t in the cards for me. I should slow down and respect boundaries.
Yet neither Sean nor Kent had respected my boundaries, so why should I respect theirs? Why shouldn’t I take the encounters to their natural conclusion? If I wanted to, I could easily seduce one or both of them, they made that perfectly clear.
By the time I arrived at the bakery, I was hot and bothered. I pulled into a parking space, grateful to see that I was one of the only cars. Walking in, I found Petra at the front counter. She smiled as soon as she saw me.
“Here for an afternoon pick-me-up?”
“Yes, please.” I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
When Kent interrupted me, I had been busy preparing my lunch. Then all hell broke loose, and I forgot about the microwave meal I’d left behind. A bit of sugar would really hit the spot. “Can I have a cup of coffee with the works and a bear claw?”
“Coming right up,” she said cheerfully.
“And actually, I could use a sympathetic ear,” I added.
Petra studied me as she poured a cup of coffee. There was one other customer, an older woman seated near the back of the café. Petra pushed the mug across the counter and reached into the display case for a bear claw.
When I went to grab my wallet, she waved it off. “It’s on the house.”
“No,” I insisted.
“You look like you need it,” she replied, still refusing to take my money.
I put five dollars in the tip jar and took the pastry. Petra led me to a table up front. There was as much space between us and the lone customer as possible. We would have to keep our voices low, but there was some ambient music that would help mask our conversation.
Petra grabbed her bottle of water and sat down opposite me. It was one of those designer bottles with measurements on the sides indicating that she was trying to be intentional about drinking.
“I should get one of those,” I mused.
“I love this bottle,” she said, showing it off. “It has the time here, so I can tell how much I’m supposed to finish.”
“Cool.”