His Plus One by Kate Aster

Chapter 1

Four years later

~ HAILEY ~

“Why do you put up with him?” Maya, batting her subtle false eyelashes, gazes at me from across the cafeteria table. Her French manicured fingertips pick off a piece of something that looks suspiciously like meat from her salad greens. “Is this chicken? I ordered it without. Oh. My. God.” Her perfectly painted lips purse together in horror.

In any other reality, Maya and I would probably never be friends.

That’s the thing I love most about working at the National Security Agency: the cafeteria.

I know. It’s weird. I should love most the feeling that I’m working on a mission—that my skills are being put to use actually protecting America.

I am profoundly proud of that. It’s the sole reason I’ve contentedly worked here for a decade without regret.

But it’s the cafeteria I love the most. There’s this crazy confluence of different types of people in this room at lunchtime that keeps me equally amused and baffled. It’s like we’re all meshed together here, the same way my grandma makes casseroles whenever I visit.

Yes, tuna, peas, water chestnuts, and potato chips just shouldn’t be baking in the same dish. But it works.

Take the table I’m sitting at—my usual noon crowd.

There’s Maya across from me, who literally could have been a supermodel but somehow ended up working in Public Affairs.

Tanya is our “rules” girl—she works in Compliance. Average looks, average brain, fits into any crowd so easily, she should be working at the CIA rather than the NSA.

Theo and David are total dad-types, complete with their soft middles and pockets full of things like tiny bottles of Purell.

Vanessa, in logistics, is the mom. That would be Mom with a capital M because every conversation—and I do mean every blessed one—somehow, at some random point, will end up being about her kids. We could be talking about Russian state-sponsored hackers, and she will somehow divert that topic to what little Emmy threw up yesterday at preschool or how adorable Andrew pooped out a penny he ate, sparing us no detail, even if we are all eating lunch and would prefer topics that didn’t include bodily excrements.

Swami, who works in IT, is the guy equivalent of me, I guess—heavy on the nerd-side, low on charisma. But one hell of a brain when it comes to computers.

Rounding out our eclectic group, we’ve got Graydon, hotter than hell and, as a SEAL who’s been working as their liaison for the past couple months up here, he’s got an ego that he really needs to keep in check because that just doesn’t fly in our world.

That’s what I’m here for. Hailey, the geek who just wouldn’t look the same without my trademark thick-framed glasses—the same style I picked out when I was in ninth grade and I have no interest in updating them.

I don’t mind looking like the stereotypical nerd around here. Nerds, if we know our stuff, are a hot commodity the same way Maya is in a bar when we all meet after work for happy hour at O’Toole’s down in Annapolis when the weather is nice.

I keep Graydon in his place because, even though I’m the youngest at our table, I’ve been here a long time. I started out as an NSA high school work study, interned here throughout college, and even did several field missions just after I got my degree.

I’ve got seniority and I’m not afraid to use my clout.

Even around a guy like Graydon.

Even though he does make my insides simmer in ways they simply shouldn’t as I’m chewing pizza so stale it shouldn’t be legal.

My face curls as I struggle to swallow cheese that resembles packing peanuts. “What the heck is with this pizza?” I scowl, ignoring Maya because she poses that question way too often. “Did they put it in a food dehydrator?”

“I’ll eat it,” Graydon pipes in, reaching for my pizza automatically. There isn’t a pizza on the planet that is inedible by his measure. “Here. You can have my protein shake.”

I start to refuse—something about the words “protein” and “shake” sharing the same sentence just doesn’t sit right with me—but then my stomach growls. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I miss pizza,” he grumbles before he packs half of my slice into his mouth.

Graydon says he’s trying to get his body back into SEAL-mode since he’s been slacking off too much since he took this post at the NSA. I can’t quite fathom how exactly he’s trying to improve because, when a guy already looks like a Marvel superhero, where does he go from there?

Maya huffs dramatically before she opens her mouth again. “Hello?! I asked, why do you put up with him?” she repeats as her eyes lock onto me, her impatience rising over the low murmur of the conversations around us.

Her annoyance is palpable. She doesn’t like it when people don’t listen to her. Maybe she’s just not used to it, because I suppose when a goddess opens her mouth, most people are all ears.

I sigh, looking skeptically at the protein shake that Graydon passed me, and I give it a sniff. Smells tolerable, so I take a sip before answering. “You know why. We share a dog together, Maya.”

“It’s a dog. Not a kid,” Theo points out and Vanessa nods enthusiastically.

“Why don’t you just get a new dog?” Tanya suggests.

Tanya has no pets, so I suppose she can’t quite imagine the bond that you can develop over four years with a dog.

After my ex-fiancé and I broke up earlier this year, we set up an informal shared ownership plan of the dog we had adopted together just after we graduated from college. Looking back, I should have just fought harder for full ownership because staying in touch with that bastard (the man, not the dog) is a little more difficult than I had planned.

“Or just unfriend him,” Graydon suggests. “I mean, why do you still have to look at all his Facebook crap if all you need to know is when to pick up Fido?”

My dog’s name is not Fido. It’s Peanut. But I don’t bother correcting Graydon again. He insists his testosterone level will drop by twenty-five percent if he says that name.

Knowing Graydon like I do, I think he could actually stand to lose twenty-five percent of his testosterone.

I’ve known him for about three years, though he swears it’s been four. He could be right because those missions I went on are kind of a terrifying blip on the radar screen of my life. I barely remember anything except the thrill of really seeing all that I’ve learned being put into action tracking down the bad guys.

And then there was the male attention out there. I’m one of those women who could sit unnoticed at a bar for days on end.

But out there—on a remote base in the Middle East or South America or once on an aircraft carrier—I had men checking me out like I was a bestseller at the library.

You just don’t get attention like that when you’re a devout computer nerd.

Of course, I couldn’t take advantage because I was engaged at the time… to the same moron I now have to meet up with in the Target parking lot for our monthly dog hand-off.

“And who uses Facebook anymore, anyway? That’s like—decades behind the times,” Maya points out. She’s more of a TikTok or Instagram kind of woman—or whatever the latest app is because I’m not one to keep up. In fact, if they allowed us to bring our smartphones in to work—which they absolutely don’t—Maya would probably be posting videos of herself eating her salad right now. (And looking way too perfect doing it.)

“I can’t unfriend him,” I answer Graydon. “If I unfriend him, then he’ll know he got to me. And I don’t want that.”

He shrugs. “So don’t let him get to you. I mean, who cares who he’s dating or how happy they look? I guarantee things aren’t as perfect as they look on social media profiles.”

He’s right and I know it.

I shouldn’t be so annoyed by all Stephen’s Facebook posts with his newest girlfriend who is way too pretty for a guy like him—just like the last one was, and the one before her.

But apparently having money transforms an average guy like him into an Adonis in the eyes of the women he now dates.

I also shouldn’t hate seeing his new, paid-for-in-cash Porsche convertible that Peanut loves riding in or the new boat he just put in the Potomac River or his most recent trip to the freaking Great Barrier Reef in Australia even though that was my dream honeymoon destination when we were engaged.

It shouldn’t get to me. But it does.

After all, I’m the one who was paying the rent and the electric bill and making the car payments while he was melded to our sofa, designing the app that ended up making him a fortune… right before he dumped me.

“I know he shouldn’t get to me, but he does.”

Swami points a French fry at me, “You know what you should do? Fight fire with fire. Go on Facebook and post cool things you’re doing like…” His voice trails and we all wait, knowing he’s just realized the absurdity of his statement.

There is nothing I do that’s cool. At least, nothing I can talk about without putting my Top Secret clearance in jeopardy.

There’s a brief silence that no one at our table is able to fill.

“Well, if you think you’ve got problems—” Always up for a challenge, Graydon strives to change the subject. “—I can top you, Glasses.”

I ignore the nickname he’s given me from our missions we’ve shared. He only uses it once in a while. And in truth, I kind of like it—as though it’s a reminder that he and I have a connection that the others at the table don’t share with him.

A connection other than this one-sided crush that I’d never admit to.

Swami’s face elongates and Maya’s eyes light with intrigue. Graydon isn’t usually the type to complain about anything. I guess when bad guys are always trying to shoot you or blow you up, you truly don’t sweat the small stuff.

So that means this will be just the distraction our lunch hour needs.

“Oh, do tell.” Maya flutters her eyelashes. I’m pretty sure she’s crushing on him, same as I am… and every other woman in this cafeteria, probably. But as far as I can tell, he’s never taken her bait.

“My brother’s getting married in two weeks. On a cruise.”

“You told us that already,” Vanessa points out.

“Love those cruise buffets,” David murmurs, his eyes glazing over as though he’s picturing all-you-can-eat soft serve ice cream and various preparations of carbohydrates.

“Besides, how is that bad, Graydon?” Tanya looks for the dark side. Always.

“Well, my future sister-in-law… she’s trouble. Total matchmaker type. If you’re single, Freya makes it her life’s destiny to make sure you get your happily ever after and that sort of crap.”

I press my palm against my chest. “A happily ever after? God forbid.” But from his unchanging expression, I don’t even think he’s picked up on my sarcasm.

“The entire time I’m stuck on that ship with her, she’ll be handing out my digits like they’re Smarties at Halloween.”

“What are Smarties?” Maya asks. I guess her neighborhood was the kind that gave out full-size chocolate bars.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Vanessa says. “You shouldn’t hate her for that. It just means she cares. You should settle down, Graydon. Have a kid. It’s so fulfilling. Just yesterday, I had this terrible day at work, but then Emmy hands me this construction paper mobile she made at—”

“You were saying, Graydon?” Maya interrupts Vanessa’s interruption.

“It’s nothing. Forget it,” he says as though complaining about something trivial just doesn’t fit into his SEAL archetype. “Freya’s actually great,” he adds quickly. “She’s great for my brother. And she’s a romance novelist, so I guess all that happily ever after crap is just an occupational hazard.”

“A romance novelist? Seriously?” Swami mutters.

“Huge industry. My wife is an addict. Have you read any of her books?” Theo asks Graydon.

“She only published one so far. And no, definitely not.”

“She sounds cool,” I decide. I’m not one for romance, especially right now with me feeling like I got played for the past six years by a guy who now only thinks of me as a dog sitter. But I love to surround myself with different kinds of people—which is why I’m sitting at this lunch table, I suppose.

“She is. But being on a cruise with her? Seven days of ‘Oh, have you met my single brother-in-law?’ It sounds like hell on earth. And now that all my brothers are hooked up with someone, that means I’ll have her sole attention.”

David cocks his head thoughtfully. “Cruise ships can be pretty big. You’ll barely run into her. Which one are you going on?”

“Can’t remember the name—something like the Celebration—no, wait—Jubilation or Elation or… I don’t know. Something happy. They picked one near where Mason’s stationed in Virginia Beach.”

“Oh, hell. Virginia Beach? You’re leaving out of the Port of Norfolk?”

“I guess.”

“Only the smaller ships go out of Norfolk. Probably ten or eleven decks at most. Not much space to escape your sister-in-law on one of those,” David remarks, shaking his head as though he’s spent the last fifteen years doing the cruise circuit. And maybe he has.

“She’ll probably have your whole family booked up for wedding activities. You know, parties and getting-to-know-you things. You totally need a date,” Maya says, even as her eyes scream, “Take me! Take me!”

Vanessa shrugs. “So bring that girl who came to our happy hour last month. Crystal or whatever her name was.”

“Jewel,” he corrects. “We broke it off last week. It ran its course.”

“Find someone else. Work your magic,” I say, unable to see the tragedy here. Graydon’s never had a hard time finding a date even last minute.

“I’m sure anyone would love to go with you.” Maya seems to echo my thoughts, her tone thick with longing.

My heart actually breaks for her. It’s hard to feel sorry for someone who looks like Maya. But right now, I definitely am. Because Graydon is either not interested or completely oblivious.

Or maybe both.

“Last thing I need is to scrounge up someone I don’t know well, and then by the end of the wedding she’s thinking we’re a thing. That can get messy,” he answers.

He’s dead right. If he dared to ask someone like Maya, she’d be hinting at her ring size as Graydon’s brother walked down the aisle.

“Where’s the cruise headed? Caribbean?”

Graydon shakes his head. “Bermuda.”

David’s eyes blaze like beacons. “Love those Bermuda cruises. Is it one that stays a few nights there?”

“Yeah, three, I think.”

“Three nights docked in Bermuda? Dude, stop your bitching. You’re going to love it.”

“Why?” I can’t help asking.

David sighs as though he shouldn’t have to explain this to us. “With other cruises, you’re always rushing to get back to the ship before it leaves port. Right?”

When we all shrug, it’s painfully obvious I’m not the only one who’s never been on a cruise.

“But those Bermuda cruises where you stay a few nights?” David continues. “They’re the best! You basically use the ship as your hotel. You really get to explore the island.”

“Huh,” Graydon seems to ponder.

“And over a few nights?” David leans back, as though the NSA cafeteria is melting away around him and he’s immersing himself in a cruise fantasy just now. “Hell, the one I took a couple years ago stayed just two nights and it was dope.”

Graydon and I exchange a look. David has teenage kids and is always trying to sound like the “cool dad” using words like dope and bruh. He has no idea he just can’t pull it off wearing a wrinkled polo tucked into what might be classified as mom-jeans.

Swami lifts another French fry. “Hold on a sec. I have an idea that would fix things for both of you.” His eyes flit from me to Graydon. “You take her—” He points to me. “—to the wedding.”

I screw up my face. “Wait—what?”

“Think about it,” he explains. “Hailey needs some cool things on her Facebook profile to stick it to her ex.”

“Pathetic, insecure, and juvenile as that sounds, it would be nice, yeah,” I admit.

“And you,” he points back to Graydon, “need a date so that your sister-in-law won’t bug you for seven days. A date with someone who won’t read anything into it. I mean, you guys have known each other for years. It’s not like anything’s gonna happen between you.”

I’m annoyed by the snorts I hear from a few at my table in response because every one of them translates into: “Yeah, like Graydon would ever go for a computer forensics geek like Hailey.” Even though it’s true—I’ve seen the women he dates—I don’t care for the reminder.

“I’m serious, guys. Wouldn’t that solve everyone’s problems?” Swami pops his fries into his mouth and continues talking before even swallowing, giving us a view that has all of us cringing. “Think about it. Hailey gets to put pictures up on Facebook of her and a freaking SEAL on a cruise.”

I snicker as I suck down more of the shake, picturing my ex if he saw me going on a cruise with a guy who looks like Graydon Adler. I’ll never admit just how appealing his idea is.

“And cruises are total selfie material,” David chimes in. “Hailey and Graydon in the casino. Eating a candlelit meal with the ocean as a backdrop. Sharing a mic on karaoke nights.”

“Karaoke? I’ve always wanted to do that. Do they have karaoke nights on all cruises?” I can’t resist asking.

“They have everything,” David says with the authority of an experienced cruiser.

“And then Graydon—” Swami prattles on. “—he gets an entire cruise where he doesn’t need to dodge his sister-in-law.”

“It wouldn’t work. Two people in one of those tiny rooms together? Even for Graydon and Hailey, that would be awkward as hell,” Tanya pipes in, an appropriate response from someone working in Compliance.

David shrugs, seeming to latch onto Swami’s plan. “So, upgrade your room. They’re always trying to get people to upgrade last minute, you know. Get one of those one-bedroom suites that they say sleeps six people.”

“How do you fit six people in a one-bedroom suite?” Maya queries, her flawless face contorting.

Theo cocks his head at her. “Asks the woman who obviously doesn’t have kids.”

Her eyes roll. “Sorry. But really six?”

“It’s a cruise ship. They pack people in. But they give great upgrade deals a few weeks before you sail. We upgraded to an owner’s suite a couple years ago when my wife got promoted. It was sick.”

“That bad?” I ask.

“That good,” Maya corrects, clearly having a cooler vocabulary than me, because when people say something is sick, I immediately want to reach for a face mask.

“Double-size balcony.” David goes dreamy-eyed just thinking about it. “Butler service. They even did cute towel sculptures for us every night. You know, swans and flowers and monkeys.”

I flash my eyes dramatically, sucking down the last of the protein shake as I stand. “Oh, towel sculptures? In that case, Graydon, let me know if you upgrade because I might actually go.” I add a snort at the end, just to make sure they all know I’m kidding.

Graydon laughs. “Towel animals were the deciding factor, huh?”

“You know it,” I say, stepping away from the table to head back to my cubicle for the next five hours. “Nothing I love more than a swan made out of cotton blend.”

I turn my back on my lunchmates until tomorrow, slamming the door on the intriguing idea of a cruise with a SEAL since Graydon thinks it’s as ridiculous as I do.

Because it is ridiculous, and the idea will never be brought up at lunch again. It seems to be our table’s unspoken rule. What’s said in the cafeteria on a Monday is forgotten by Tuesday.

But, I can’t help pondering as I skip the elevators and head for the stairs, wouldn’t it be refreshing to do something ridiculous?