Curie laughs. “So what’s his name?”
“We, um, decided not to use our real names.” My tone is super casual. It seemed like such a great idea to keep our identities secret last night. But now, in broad daylight and with no alcohol flowing through my veins, it feels…a tad silly.
“You don’t know the name of the guy you slept with?”
“Shh!”
My sister leans in and hisses, “The guy you just said was the best you’ve ever had? And you didn’t get his name, not even after?” She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What if you want to see him again? Or maybe he might want to see you again. The experience could’ve been mutually mind-blowing.”
Hot jitters shoot through me as the memories from last night flash in my head. Oh, he had a great time, too. The man was insatiable. “I know, I know, but I need to focus on my career. If I don’t get promoted this year, I might as well get LOSER tattooed across my forehead. In all caps.”
“You won’t have to. There’s no way you’re not getting promoted this year. You’re one of the smartest and hardest-working people there is. Dad has to know that. Everybody else at the firm does.”
I smile because there isn’t any better response. Curie’s being supportive, but she doesn’t really understand the depth of my anxiety.
I pray she’s right about this year, but there are no guarantees. Dad refuses to tell me why he won’t move me up, except to say that he doesn’t want any appearance of nepotism, which is understandable but also totally unfair. My work is just as good as—if not better than—all the men who started with me and who already managed to score promotions.
I pack away my resentment with some effort. It won’t do me any good to dwell on stuff I can’t control.
“I studied the qualifications of everyone who either started with me or after and got promoted,” I say. “You know what I found?”
I wait a beat, but I’m not really expecting a response. There’s no way Curie can possibly know the results of my analysis.
“What?” she says.
“I found out none of them had a serious relationship.”
“You looked that deep?”
“Of course.” I’m just that thorough. Or desperate.
“So they were celibate for…how many years is it?”
“No, no, no. I’m sure they hooked up here and there to blow off steam, but there was nothing serious, you know? So it’s pretty obvious. The evaluation committee wants somebody who’s married to the firm. Good thing I discovered it in time.”
“That’s crazy,” she says. “Almost everyone at the top is married.”
“Yeah, but that’s later. I can’t be a VP until I get promoted out of being a junior analyst first.”
Her jaw slackens, her eyes growing wide. “So your Mr. Amazing Lay never had a chance? Even if he could be The One?”
“Well, maybe not never.” I clear my throat, shifting because Curie’s making my findings seem a little ridiculous. “Just, you know…later.”
“Except you were so determined to keep it casual that you didn’t even get his name. How are you going to find him later, after you become a VP?”
Good point. I wasn’t thinking very clearly last night. Hormones aren’t the best for clarity. But if we were meant to be, I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.
Besides, there are over three billion men in the world. Surely I can find someone suitable later, even if it’s not Whiskey.
But my stomach twists hard at the idea of never seeing him again.
“Maybe I’ll hang out at Z again,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Is he even from around here?”
“Um.” I never asked, but she might be right. He could just be visiting.
Curie checks texts on her phone. “I’m having brunch with Joe. Do you want to come?”