“Does Chris know who I am?”
“Sure.” She looks at me and assures, “He’d never spill the beans to his friends who you are.”
I wave a hand. “I’m sure everything is fine. It’s not like I’m Britney Spears.”
“Nah, you’re better.”
I smile at my friend.
“Anyway, from what Chris has told me, Warren is very serious about the woman he’s dating right now. Which would be you.”
A warm feeling erupts in my chest and I have to quill my excitement.
“So what are you going to do? Now that you know?”
I shrug. “I have no idea, but I think I have to play the game a little before I reveal how much I know.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I’d rather sip on coffee and watch you smile and get lost in your laugh awhile.”
-a.r.asher
Warren
When I got to work on Monday morning, I was buzzing with energy, a need to talk to Jane. She was so damn busy over the weekend that I hadn’t had a real conversation with her since Friday, right before she went to her event.
I was craving the woman.
The mail room is a hive of activity when I enter, and I could tell right off the bat that I was going to have a long-ass day ahead. I didn’t want a long-ass day. I wanted an easy day where I could go up to Jane’s office and throw her up on her desk and—
“Warren!” I find Greg waving at me and make my way over. “Got your cart stocked already, you need to go up and start delivering, on the top is a list of expedited items. Oh…” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out an envelope that has my name on it. “And this came for you. Get to work.”
I pocket the note, curiosity rearing its head, and push my cart onto the service elevator. While the floors climb, and since the elevator is blissfully empty and clear of any nosy neighbors, I pull the envelope out of my pocket and slip my finger under the flap.
I flip it over and read;
I never really knew you
You were just another friend
But when I got to know you,
I let my heart unbend.
My heart hammers in my chest, a feeling of realization slithers down my spine. Did Jane find out? Does she know who I am?
Part of me hopes so, but another part hopes that I’ll still be able to be the one to tell her the truth, I don’t want her to use my lies against me. To pull the rug out from under me.
Nervously, I make my way through the fortieth floor, making sure to get the urgent deliveries done first to avoid any kind of write-ups.
But when those are finally done, and I’m free to deliver as usual, my feet carry me to her office like I’ve done it a million times—which I kind of have.
I don’t bother knocking as I enter the office, my head down on the mail. My lips pull into a hopeful smile but when I look up and around her office, there’re about half a dozen people in the room. The smile falls when I see Lisa wave me out of the room, I look back at Jane, hoping she’ll say or do something that contradicts the demand from her assistant, but she’s bent over her desk, a mask of frustration on her face and I don’t have it in me to demand something from her right now.
So I back out of the room, leaving part of my pride at the door, and set the mail down on the desk outside.
Maybe after today, after she sees my signed poem and we talk about this one in my pocket, I can talk to her about us. About making us a priority.