I'm Fine and Neither Are You(31)

As I made my way into work, still clad in my coffee-stained pants, a comment Jenny made a few months earlier floated through my head. “Sex keeps our relationship going,” she had said after I feigned disgust when she showed up late to a coffee date with flushed cheeks and an excuse that Matt had been frisky.

Was she being disingenuous—or had she been trying to tell me that sex was one of the few things she and he had shared?

It was one more thing I would never know.



When I walked into my office, a bouquet of white orchids was in the center of my desk. I had never seen so many orchids in a single arrangement—there must have been eight flowers to a single stem and a dozen stems to the lot. It was the nicest bouquet I had ever received, and the sight of it made me want to burst into tears. At any other time, I would have assumed Jenny had been the one to send it. She did things like that—gifting me a lipstick that she knew would look just right on me, or bringing me tulips after I secured a big donation.

This time the flowers were from my coworkers.

“Is white appropriate?” asked Russ, who had just stuck his head in my door. He looked kind of embarrassed, and I realized he must have been the one to pick them out. “Do you even like orchids?”

I could feel a sob coming on and had to look away. “Yes,” I finally managed. “I like them very much.”

“Good,” he said. Then his head disappeared.

I composed myself and then called into the hallway, “What’s on the agenda for today?”

This time, his whole body appeared in the doorway. “I put the final touches on Blatner’s second proposal, so if you have time to look it over, that would be great. I’m meeting with Dean Willis at one thirty to discuss EOFY numbers.”

“May I join you?” I said.

“I can cover if you want to catch up on other stuff.”

I had been off work for several days, and he had come through for me on all counts. I appreciated that—but he was still Russ. The last thing I needed was for him to treat me with kid gloves, only to use this to unseat me as co-director or call in some massive favor later on. “I’ll come with,” I said.

He smiled, and then a strange thing happened. Semiobjectively, Russ was attractive—he had the kind of moody green eyes you didn’t see very often, straight white teeth, and an almost uncannily symmetrical face. He also happened to be pale, stocky, and on the short side—which is to say the opposite of Sanjay. Yet as I looked at him, I realized . . .

No.

Except yes—I had just felt a twinge of attraction toward him. Was this some sort of inappropriate grieving response? A temporary spell cast by the sight of that beautiful bouquet he had chosen? Or had this been lurking in my subconscious, just waiting for the right time to wallop me?

My cheeks burned, but if Russ sensed my discomfort, he didn’t let on. Instead, he just kept smiling and said, “Great. Swing by my office at one so we can prep.”



“So,” Russ said as we were walking across the medical campus to the dean’s office several hours later. “How are you holding up?”

July was days away and the sun beat down hard, baking the morning’s spilled coffee into my pants. And just as well, as that made it easier not to think about whether the attraction I’d felt toward Russ earlier was a one-off. “I’m fine.”

He looked at me. “Really? Because your eyelid has been twitching for a solid five minutes now.”

My lid had been fluttering off and on for days, in fact—not that I was about to share this. I knew it was stress related. But thank goodness Russ had pointed it out to me. That was guaranteed to make it better.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You know, it would be okay to take a break if you need to,” he said.

So he could swoop in and become the sole director of our department? Not a chance.

“It’s good to be at work,” I said. “Keeping busy is better than doing nothing.” Yes, to be in motion was to not have to think about anything other than the task at hand.

He gave me a skeptical look. “If you say so, Pen.”

We had just reached the administrative building where the dean’s office was located. A gust of icy air hit us as Russ pulled the door open for me. A question popped into my head, and I opened my mouth before I could second-guess whether to let it out. “Hey. What do you know about prescription painkillers?”

Russ had not been to medical school, but he was well versed in health issues ranging from the everyday to the obscure. He claimed this was because he had only ever worked in medical development, but I would not have been surprised to learn that he rose early each morning to peruse science journals before hitting the gym.

He glanced at me briefly as we began down a corridor. I was relieved that his eyes didn’t unsettle me and he was back to looking like regular old Russ. “Do you want the politically correct answer, or my real answer?”

“The latter.”

“Let’s just say I only needed to pop one Vicodin to know I should never take another. It’s different for different people, though. Some people fall asleep on painkillers. Others feel euphoric, like they can do anything, and that’s usually what gets you hooked. If a doctor prescribes them to you—which, given what we know now, they probably shouldn’t unless you’re out of options—you’d better hope you’re in the pass-out category.” Now he was staring at me intently. “Tell me you’re not doing that junk, Penny. It’ll kill you.”