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“No, I think my ignoring his messages is good enough for now.” I tell her wiping a bit of wetness from my eye.
“If it’s any consolation, he looks like crap too. He got pissy with someone because they took the last of the K-Cups. His assistant had to go and buy him some to keep in his office. He looks like he hasn’t slept, and overall, his shirts are a little wrinkled.”
“Well, at least it’s not just me. That’s reassuring, but he deserves it.”
“Most men do. Here.” She hands me a book and sits back with her own.
“Are you sure this is okay? To sit here and read?” I whisper.
“This is one of those happy work places, they basically make sure their employees work a portion of their day and then hang out the rest of it.”
“I didn’t think companies like this existed outside of movies.”
“Just sit back and relax for a little bit. Turn to page eighty-seven, there’s a really hot scene that will likely get your mind off the guy upstairs.”
I take her advice and read for a little bit. She was right, my mind did get off of Quinn and I actually started to get comfortable sitting on the fifth floor.
Over the course of the next week, I sneak away from my cubicle and go to the fifth floor. No one ever says anything, and I appreciate that. Quinn continues to ask to talk and I continue to delete his emails or not reply to his texts.
Can I get over this? Can I trust him again?
* * *
Steph stepsinto the apartment with a bouquet of daisies. She sets them on the counter with the other four vases and places her hands on the surface, then looks at me.
“We’re going to run out of counter space,” she tells me.
“I would be perfectly fine with not bringing them in at all. You can just start leaving them outside. Or dump the flowers and keep the vase.”
“I think that maybe you guys should just have a conversation, he obviously realizes that he royally fucked up. You don’t have to forgive him, but just listen to him.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rings. I take a deep breath and feel my heart pounding.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” I narrow my eyes at her.
She shrugs.
“Did you know that he was out there?” I pin her with a glare.
“I told him to give me a few minutes before he tries again.”
“I don’t want to talk to him,” I say quietly.
“Maybe you should.”
Angrily, I step around her and stomp to the front door, swing it open and try to be unaffected by how shitty he looks when my eyes land on him.
“Sid.” he says hoarsely.
“I would appreciate it if you would stop sending flowers, I don’t have any more space for them, and they are bothering Steph’s allergies.”
“No, they’re not!” Steph yells from the kitchen.
“Please, just let me talk?” he begs.
“I’m not ready.” I reply shutting the door in his face.
I hear Quinn’s fist bang against the side of the door and here a muffled ‘please’.
