A Not So Meet Cute(58)
And that orgasm . . . Christ. It was with just his fingers, and yet, it felt as though he attacked me in a way I can’t even describe. I felt as if I were under a spell and the only way to snap out of it was with an orgasm. And that orgasm delivered. It was so good, so satisfying, that I was still turned on when I went back into my room, and I had to ride it out on Thor one more time with the memory of Huxley’s dominant voice playing over and over in my head.
But what’s really rocking my world is not only what he said after, but the way he said it to me. Gently, holding my chin so I was forced to look him in the eyes, he made sure I understood that he’d take care of my sister. That he’d make sure she was heard.
When he left, I stood there, stunned.
There was no harsh tone, there was no sarcastic jab, it was as if I was back in Chipotle, talking to the man I first met. It was confusing. It’s why I need Kelsey to forgive me and open this door.
Impatiently I shift my feet until the door unlocks, and I hold my breath. Kelsey appears on the other side, but instead of wearing her usual boss-lady attire, she’s in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top.
Oh God, what happened?
I swallow hard, smile, and hold up the coffee and donuts. “I’m sorry.”
She eyes the items in my hand and then opens the door more to let me in.
Step one complete: I’m inside the apartment. I go to the kitchen, grab plates, and set everything out on her dining table. She takes a seat across from me, pulling one of her legs against her chest, and watches as I carefully take out each donut, put it on a platter between us, set the bag on the ground, and then hand her the coffee I know she loves—a house blend with frothed milk and a splash of caramel. She takes a sip and I hold up the plate, which bears a giant bear claw, an apple fritter, a maple Long John, and of course, the classic Boston cream. As predicted, she picks up the apple fritter and I go for the Boston cream.
“I’m really sorry, Kels. Yesterday wasn’t my best showing, but I promise, it won’t happen again. I worked all day on the website, and I have some things to show you, some things I think you’ll—”
“Karla called.”
I pause. Why do I know that name? Karla . . . Karla . . .
“Huxley’s assistant,” she offers.
“Oh . . . OH! She did? Huxley said she would. Did she set up another meeting time?”
Kelsey nods. “She did. This Friday at three. We have more time to prepare, which is nice. We can come up with a great presentation now, fine-tune everything.”
“That’s great,” I say, feeling excited. But I’m sensing Kelsey isn’t as excited as me. “What’s wrong? That’s great, right?”
“It’s wonderful.”
“Then why is your tone of voice not matching your excitement?”
She sets her coffee down and asks, “Do you know why Huxley left that meeting?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t say why, just that it was important. Oh God, was it not important?” I lean forward. “Figures he’d go and lie about something like that.”
“He wasn’t lying,” Kelsey says. “It was important. One of their properties in New York City had an electrical fire. Two men had third-degree burns, others some smoke inhalation.”
“Oh . . . God, really?” I ask, feeling myself shrink into an incredibly small version of myself. He wasn’t lying. He’d been needed for something critical. Essential.
“Yes. Karla apologized for taking so long to get back to me with rescheduling, because she and Huxley spent the rest of the day on the phone making arrangements for not only the victims themselves but also the families of the victims.” Kelsey leans forward and says, “Apparently he personally called every one of them. Then he sent their favorite meals to the hospital and to the families.”
I blink a few times, attempting to comprehend what Kelsey’s telling me. “He . . . he did?”
She nods. “Yes, he did.” She picks up her donut. “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”
“To make me feel like an asshole?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m telling you this so you can lighten up around him. He’s a good guy. There might have been some headbutting between the two of you, but at some point, you need to let that go. He’s helping you, he’s helping us, and that’s something you need to be grateful for. Yesterday should’ve never happened. You know I love you, but it was completely unprofessional. There’s no way you’d have done something like that if you were still working for Angela.”
I stare down at my untouched donut and swipe at the frosting with my finger. “You’re right. I never would’ve acted that way in front of Angela or in front of prospective clients.” I’ve had a lot of time to think about my reactions throughout the night . . . well, before the orgasm, of course. And when I considered objectively how insanely ridiculous and unprofessional my behavior was, I was more than mortified. My wish had been to put my studies to use, to help Kelsey grow her business to the next level. All I could attribute my behavior to was shock. Misplaced anger. Immaturity.
“I think I’ve built this whole situation up in my head, and instead of breathing in a deep breath and taking everything thrown my way one step at a time, I’m reacting without thought.” I sigh and lean back into the chair. “I hate to throw out excuses, but this whole thing with getting fired . . . I think it’s fucking with my head. Instead of giving myself time to mourn, I’m taking out my anger on everyone around me, Huxley included.”