The Girl He Used to Know(65)

Wives and girlfriends have occasionally swung by the office to say hello, to deliver an item forgotten at home, or show off a new baby. But rarely has one ever walked right into a conference room during a meeting. They would know it was something that simply isn’t done. But not my Annika. And there’s something about the fact that she doesn’t that makes me admire her even more. Because really, when did we start taking things so seriously? It’s not like it’s ten in the morning. It’s six o’clock at night and we’ve been working for ten hours straight. Longer than that, actually, because every single person in this room probably started working before they left their homes this morning. Can we not drop the fa?ade for a moment and admit that we’re human? That not everything we do has to be done to show how hard we’re working?

A few starving members of the team have resorted to raiding the vending machines, and the conference room table is littered with empty Coke cans and candy wrappers, but whatever’s in the bag Annika’s holding smells incredible. I know these people well and have worked with several of them for years. Their amused expressions are also kind, because they know what I went through with Liz, and also because how can anyone not see how sweet—if ill-timed—Annika’s gesture is?

Well, for starters, Brad can’t.

“Hi,” he says, and the tone of his voice sets me on edge immediately. I sit up straighter in my chair. “Monica, is it?”

He gives her one of those fake and condescending smiles, and it’s at that moment that my blood begins to heat up. Annika smiles back at him, although her smile is sincere. “Annika. No ‘M.’ Everyone thinks it’s Monica, but it’s not.”

“Okay. Well, Annika, we’re in the middle of a meeting here.”

“I can tell,” she says. “But I’m sure Jonathan is hungry since there’s no food, so I brought him some dinner.”

“Let’s take a break, guys,” Brad says. The team pushes back their chairs, stretches. Most of them start to leave, but the nosier ones hang around. Annika walks over to me and sets the bag down on the table. “It’s ham and cheese.”

I push my chair back and stand so I can kiss her on the cheek. Be fore I can grab her hand and coax her gently out of the room, Brad comes over and stands next to us.

Annika is wearing a dress and while the neckline isn’t low, there’s a gap in the front because it’s a little loose on her. If she moves at all, the material moves with her and I catch a glimpse of her bra and the tops of her breasts. Brad’s height makes it possible for him to look straight down into the gap, and he’s taking full advantage of it, as if Annika’s interruption somehow gives him the right—as if it would give anyone the right—to do that. I want to smack the entitled look off his face.

“Jonathan, I’d like to see you in my office,” Brad says. He’s doing his best “you’re about to get in trouble” routine, like he’s the principal and I’ve been caught skipping class.

I lead Annika to my office.

“I got you in trouble, didn’t I? I just wanted to do something nice.”

“Annika, it’s okay. Really. It was a sweet thing that you did, and I’m going to eat the hell out of that sandwich.”

Probably not in front of Brad, but still.

“Are you mad? I can’t tell if you’re mad.” She sounds so worried.

I reach for her hands and squeeze them. “I’m not mad.” And I’m not, at least not at her. Mostly I’m mad at myself for being willing to walk on the eggshells Brad has thrown down and worrying more about my professional life than the things that really matter.

“Wait here.” She sits down in my chair and looks at me so fearfully that I tell her everything’s fine and I’ll be back in a minute.

I enter Brad’s office. He’s sitting at his desk looking down at some papers he’s shuffling. I stand there like a naughty child waiting for him to acknowledge me. “Why don’t you close the door,” he says without looking up.

Jesus. He’s going full-on manipulative asshole.

When he finally looks up, he leans back in his chair and twirls a pen idly. “I’m just wondering if your … What is that woman to you?”

“My girlfriend,” I say, because I can’t deny any longer that it’s what I want her to be. I say it slowly and pointedly, the way you would if someone is dense and you want to make sure they understand. Two can play at this game, Brad. I see by his expression that he doesn’t care for my tone.

“I’m just wondering if your girlfriend will be making a habit of dropping in on you while you’re at work.”

“I don’t know. I can’t say for sure that she’ll never try to bring me dinner again.”

“I’m not mad about the interruption. We’ve all been working long hours, and I like to think of us as a family. But there’s a certain kind of image we need to uphold at this firm. Someone who’s in a director position like you might be will be attending a lot of social events, often accompanied by their significant other.”

“What are you trying to say?” I ask even though I know what he’s getting at. Is it even okay for him to say that? I’m pretty sure HR would be interested in this conversation. Wouldn’t they?

“I’m just saying there are certain behaviors we need to adhere to in a business setting.”