I burst into the room, startling my boss. He jerks and splashes his tea over one of his sketches.
Shit!
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." My reason for chasing him down is briefly forgotten. I reach for the box of tissues at the end of his desk and pull a wad out. Patting the drawing frantically, I keep mumbling apologies.
Denis stops my cleaning attempts with his hand. "It's fine. This is one of the rejects." He laughs, and my eyes prick. Maybe I shouldn't have come after all?
He withdraws his fingers, and I straighten up, balling the wet tissues in my hand and holding them against my chest.
"Is everything okay?" He scrutinizes me, concerned.
I curl my lips under, digging my teeth in until I can no longer stall. "Did you put the orchid in my office last week?"
A crease appears between his brows, and I have my answer.No, no, no.
"What orchid?" His tone is wary.
I wet my lips. "Someone delivered an orchid to my office. It had a note but no signature."
He slants his head. "A note?"
"Yes, uh…it said,'You deserve everything you get.'" I start shredding the soaked tissues.
Denis leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He glances at my busy hands and then between my eyes. "May I give you my advice?"
"Of course." I dip my chin.
"Throw it in the dumpster." His dry delivery makes me pause.
"Excuse me?"
"No one with genuine intentions would not sign their name. Get rid of it." His tone has gone icy, and my nerves buzz with dread. Without another word, I whirl around and speed walk to my office.
I aim for the flower, pick it up by the stem, and beeline for the trash in the kitchen. I don't want it anywhere near me. Even this is too close, but if I race past my employer's office, choking a plant, he'll officially think I've lost my mind.
Back behind my desk, I place my palms flat on the top and close my eyes. My chest heaves as if I just ran a mile on Lilly's treadmill. Inhaling slowly through my nose, I repeat the same three words over and over in my head. "You are okay. You are okay."
Once my breathing has calmed to its normal rhythm, I simply sit. Snippets of Monday fade in and out of my conscious mind. Trying to remember feels like digging through mud with a toothpick.
I answered emails.
I checked on Em's dress that she had dropped off earlier, wanting to make sure it was stored properly until she came back.
I reviewed some orders and appointments for Denis, and then…
Nothing.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I know I called Lilly, but not because I remember. They told me. I saw the unanswered calls in my phone log. Hazy pictures of Marcus hovering over me, his face blurring in and out, his eyes dull with worry flash through the black of my lids.
The ringing of my phone jerks me out of my self-torture. The showroom's number rolls across the screen, and I answer the call.
"Hello?"
"It's Cassy. You have a call on line two."
A call?
My heart stutters. Who would call the boutique instead of my cell? Everyone has my number.