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I searched my mind. Delia often seemed to know what I was thinking before I did. Under her watchful scrutiny I felt something click in my mind, a glimmer of light that shone on a scrap of something I’d been ignoring. Something I didn’t want to consider. “I care about him,” I repeated. “But I feel like a fraud. What if the only reason I got this promotion was because of Oliver?”
“We talked about this. So what if it was?”
“Then I didn’t do it myself! That’s so fucked up. It invalidates everything I’ve spent my life working for.” I felt my shoulders crumple slightly as I gave voice to the worry I’d been refusing to acknowledge, hiding instead in Oliver’s arms and behind my busy desk.
“You don’t have to achieve something completely alone for it to count.”
“But achieving it and being given something because you’re a delightful fuck are completely different things.” I felt my lip go out slightly in a pout. It was ridiculous, but Delia was the one person in the world I could pout in front of.
“You can let your ‘ethics’ get all up in here and screw everything up.” Delia waved her handsaround my head. “Or you can smile, enjoy what you’ve earned, and try to actually be happy for a change.”
I let out a frustrated sigh.
We went back to Oliver’s that night, and the next night, too. For two weeks I practically lived at his house, though my concern over the ethics of my promotion began to haunt me. After sleeping at Oliver’s more often than at home, something comfortable and easy had developed between us. Which was not to say that the sizzling heat we shared had dissipated. At all. If anything, the more I got of him, the more I wanted. But in the moments when we were apart, when I was at my desk, for example, a quiet voice spoke deep inside me. I knew I should be listening to it, that it was the voice of reason. It said things I didn’t really want to hear.
It talked about how hard I’d worked for the things I had, about how I’d done it all on my own. Until now.
I could have stared into space for hours, but I was interrupted by the ringing of my office line.
“Holland O’Dell.”
“Ms. O’Dell, this is Anton Mitchell. From MLB?”
I sat up straighter in my chair. “Yes, of course. How are you?” It had been several weeks since our initial presentation and I’d begun to worry I’d never hear from them at all. Oliver and I had made a point of avoiding the topic.
“I’m doing well,” he said. “Can’t complain. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course.” I picked up a pen and clicked it furiously, waiting to find out if this new office I wassitting in was deserved or not.
“I wanted to let you know that we’re very interested in the measurement device you presented to us. Your presentation notes have been shared throughout the organization, and everyone agrees this could be a game changer for baseball.”
My heart jumped. This was what I’d been waiting for, what I’d hoped for and dreamed about. “That’s great news,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“We have a few more questions,” he went on. “And naturally, we need to talk numbers before anything is certain.”
“Of course.”
“Can we set something up for a few weeks out? We’ll be back out in LA the middle of April.”
“Sure,” I said, and we set up the meeting. I was barely able to keep myself seated, and bounced in my chair as I wrapped up the call. Once I’d hung up, I bolted to the elevator and punched the button for the top floor. When the doors opened, I grinned at the receptionist as I bolted past and practically danced in front of Pamela’s desk. “Is he in? I just got amazing news.” I was gushing, I couldn’t help it.
“He is,” she said, smiling broadly. “Just let me tell him you’re here. And you still owe me lunch.”
“Friday?” I suggested.
She nodded and then buzzed Oliver’s office.
On the other end of the intercom, I heard Oliver’s voice call, “Send her in!”
I didn’t wait for Pamela to get up, letting myself into Oliver’s office with a huge grin on my face. “MLB just called!” I sang. “They’re in! I set up a meeting for mid-April,and they want to talk numbers! I sent you a meeting maker in Outlook.”
A broad smile broke across Oliver’s face, making the dark eyes sparkle. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted, jumping out of his seat and pumping his fist. “We did it!”
I grinned, but his words hit me hard. We did it. Not me. The deal I’d worked and scraped six months to bring in was close to being a reality. And I didn’t know if I had very much to do with it. What if the CEO of Cody Tech hadn’t shown up to impress the MLB people? What if it had been just me?
Pamela stuck her head in. “What’s all the commotion?” she asked. “We feel left out over here.”
“Oh, nothing really,” Oliver said, pretending to wipe lint from his shirtfront in a casual way. “Holland here just made the biggest deal this company has seen in the last five years. You know, standard stuff.”
