One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

18

“Is that lipstick?”

“No,” I lie, checking my reflection in my computer screen.

Will swings side to side in his chair, looking bored. “You could undo the top button of your shirt. Really give them a show.”

I ignore him, too busy wondering if I should put my hair up. I’m overthinking it; I know I am. It’s only an initial meeting with my new client, a “tell me your ideas and let’s see if we connect” chat that I start all my projects with, but it’s the first real shot Harvey’s given me since the Grayson disaster and I want to make a good impression.

“Stop watching me,” I say, powdering my face. “You’re not helping.”

“You worry too much,” Will says. “You’ve done this a million times before.”

It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m back to being an assistant, shaking my way through meetings. I hadn’t realized how much losing out on the promotion had thrown me. How much I’d started to doubt myself.

I jump when the phone rings, our reception number flashing up.

“Don’t screw it up,” Will sings quietly as I pass.

I walk briskly to the front of the office to where our meeting rooms are. The underwire in my bra has poked through, jabbing my ribs with each step. Will’s right. I do worry too much. A project this size is something I wouldn’t have thought twice about a year ago but I’ve exhausted my contacts the past few weeks trying to bring in some business and Harvey isn’t exactly throwing any proposals my way.

…until he takes your main client and your job right from under your nose.

Will’s words from before echo in my mind as I reach reception. Is that what Matthias did? Is Harvey now trying to squeeze me out? Maybe that’s why I’m so rattled. Because no matter how hard I work my fate was sealed the moment he got the promotion and I just refuse to admit it.

I come to a stop at the end of the hallway, subtly adjusting my bra before I start bleeding through my blouse. There are three people in reception. A pretty, straight-backed woman in her late thirties stands nearest me, typing into her phone. Margot sits at her computer, giggling loudly as she peers up at the man leaning over the desk. The man who…

I stare at the back of his head, sure I’m seeing the things. But this time there’s no mistake. He turns his face to the side and I catch a familiar glimpse as he plucks a company card from the stack by the phones, slipping it into his pocket.

Declan.

As if in slow motion, Margot’s eyes slide to me, but I’m already gone, diving back around the corner to the kitchenette.

Oh God. I stand just out of sight, reading furiously through the initial email asking for a meeting but his name isn’t anywhere. Only the woman. Mika Morris. She mentions briefly that she works for a tour company but I thought Disney World. I thought cruises. I thought…

“What’s wrong?” Will stands by the fridge, holding a packet of string cheese. “Are you ill?”

I grab his arm and tug him sharply down the hallway.

“Ow,” he says as I push him into the ladies’ room.

“Sorry, Sandra,” I say as I spy one of our technical designers at the sink. “Could you…?”

She gives us a startled nod and hurries past, shaking her hands dry.

“I need your help,” I say when she’s gone.

Will’s face drops. “You’re pregnant.”

“No!”

“You invested all your money in cryptocurrency.”

“No. Will! Shut up.” I take a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “One of the people I’m meeting today has turned out to be someone I’ve slept with.”

He looks confused. “So?”

“What do you mean, so?”

“Just pretend you don’t recognize him. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s complicated. We—”

“I don’t care,” he says quickly. “Really. But enjoy your unnecessary drama.”

“Please Will. As your work wife—”

“Hannah’s my work wife,” he interrupts. “You’re more like the family hamster.” But he looks torn. “What do you want me to do? Pull the fire alarm?”

“I can’t go in there by myself, Will, I can’t. I’ll do something wrong.”

“You’re not going to do something wrong. You need to stop with this imposter syndrome phase. And what do you think I can do about it?” he continues when I go to argue. “Sit menacingly in the corner? You’re looking for an excuse.”

“I’m not! I’m just…” I falter, trying to think of a way to solve this. The last time I saw Declan I lost track of myself completely, which I can’t afford to happen right now. He drives me crazy. And not in the fun teen-bop way. In the “I don’t know what to do with myself, so I’ll probably just snap at you and everyone around me” way.

“I can’t go in there by myself,” I repeat. “You have to come in with me. You could act as my assistant.”

“No.”

“No, it could work,” I say, growing excited the more I think of it. “Important people have assistants. And you wouldn’t have to do anything you could just sit there and take notes.”

Will frowns thoughtfully. “Well, I guess if you put it like that… Oh, wait a minute, I’ve already decided. No.”

“I’ll owe you.”

“You already owe me. You owe me for like a million things.”

“I’ll give you my desk.” I blurt the words out, immediately regretting them. I’m about to take them back when I catch the look on his face, which goes from incredulous to interested in the blink of an eye.

“Hold on,” he says loudly as the door opens behind us. Whoever it is scampers quickly back out.

I know I’ve got him.

My desk is two inches bigger (he measured it), gets just the right amount of sunlight and is in the perfect place between the air vents so you’re neither too hot nor too cold. Will’s been after it for two years but no matter his bribes (or outright thieving techniques), I’ve never given it up.

I love my desk.

And he knows it.

“When?” he asks.

“Straight after the meeting.”

“Even if it goes badly?”

“You have to try,” I say. “Don’t pull anything embarrassing.”

“Like how you’re pretending you have an assistant?” He rolls his eyes when I just look at him. “Your desk?”

I nod.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

We swing by the kitchen to dump the string cheese and then hurry back to reception, by now very late.

They’re standing where I left them. Well, Declan’s not so much standing as he is leaning over the counter, still making Margot giggle. There’s a stabbing sensation in my chest at the sight of them that this time has nothing to do with my bra.

“That’s the guy you slept with?” Will whispers beside me. “Nice.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m paying you a compliment.”

“Here she is!” Margot stands as she spots me, giving me a pointed “you’re late” look. Both the other woman and Declan turn toward me. I was right to be suspicious. He doesn’t look surprised that I’m here. But he doesn’t look like he’s one-upped me either. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was nervous.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I say with a bright smile. “I was on a call. You must be Mika.”

The woman steps forward with a firm handshake. “My partner, Declan Murphy.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say as he opens his mouth.

He hesitates and I hold my breath but it’s only for a moment before he smiles. “You too.”

Will clears his throat loudly behind me. I try not to glare at him.

“My assistant, Will,” I say.

“Hello!” he says with exaggerated cheerfulness. Margot frowns at the two of us.

“I didn’t know Will was joining you,” she says, sounding confused. “I’ll get some more chairs.”

“Don’t worry,” I say smoothly. “Will can get them.”

“I can?”

“Yes,” I say, a slight edge to my smile. “You can.”

He turns without another word and disappears down the corridor.

“After you,” I say to Mika.

The meeting room is small, laid out with the usual water jug and some added cookies Matthias brought in this morning (because of course, he had). Everything is as expected. Except for the giant elephant that is Declan in the room.

Mika takes a seat as he grabs one of the cookies.

“So, you’re the one behind the TradCo offices,” Mika begins.

I drag my attention to her, trying to focus. “Yes.”

“We’re thinking of leasing out the floor below them.”

I nod. Declan is still concentrating on the cookie. “Your email said the team was expanding?”

“That’s the plan. Our last bit of funding has just been approved. When it will land in our bank account is a different matter.”

“Congratulations,” I say as Will brings in a chair, banging it awkwardly off the doorframe. Declan drags it over to him and I wince as it squeaks on the hardwood floors.

Men.

“Does anyone want coffee before we start?” I ask as he brings in another.

“I’ll take one,” Mika says as Declan shakes his head.

There’s a beat when no one moves and I twist to look at Will, who’s just sat down.

What, he mouths before realizing what I want. “Right. That’s me. One second.”

He disappears back out. Mika looks concerned.

“Is he new?” she asks.

“Just started this morning actually.” My eyes slide to Declan, who’s now staring at me hard, clearly wanting to communicate something but hell if I know what it is.

Don’t look at him. Look at Mika. Look at the work. Look at anything but him.

“So,” I say brightly, opening my notepad. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking of and we’ll start from there.”

* * *

I tell myself it could have gone a lot worse. So much worse because for the next forty minutes I remain so incredibly aware of Declan you’d swear I had a tracking device implanted into my brain. Every time he reaches for the water, every time he shifts in the chair, I know he’s doing it. I don’t know whether I’m looking at him too much or ignoring him, so I start timing my glances every few seconds.

I can’t tell what he wants from me.

But I can’t concentrate either.

But somehow, with Will a surprisingly calming and steady presence beside me, I get through the business side of things, the design process, our expectations. I get through it all and thankfully Mika doesn’t seem to notice and she’s the one who seems to be in charge, asking all the right questions while making copious amounts of notes.

Eventually, there’s nothing more to say and we do the handshakes and goodbyes and take a cookie for the road as I open the door. My heart sinks as soon as I do.

Harvey and Matthias stand just beside reception, deep in conversation but both look up when they see me.

“Will,” Harvey asks with a frown. “Shouldn’t you be on the McManus call?”

Will’s eyes go wide with panic before he turns and rushes down the hallway. “Nice to meet you,” he calls back.

“Tough first day,” Mika murmurs to herself before Harvey steps forward to shake her hand. I linger to the side as he introduces himself, my eyes on Matthias as he stares at Declan, looking a little puzzled. I see the moment he recognizes him, his professional smile slipping in surprise, and I wince inwardly, knowing I’m going to have to explain. I’d told the man Declan was history and now here he is.

“Everything going alright?” Harvey asks.

“We’re very happy,” Declan says firmly and to my relief Mika nods. Harvey looks delighted, Matthias a little annoyed. His eyes flick to me almost accusingly and I know I need to break this party up.

“I’ll walk you out,” I say brightly before he can say anything. I herd Mika and Declan toward the elevator as quickly as I can without seeming rude. There are some polite goodbyes and I make equally polite small talk with Mika on the ride down. It’s only when we’re in the lobby do I risk a glance at Declan, who seems to have been waiting for a sign.

“You go on,” he says to Mika. “I think I’m going to get a juice.”

Mika hesitates, her eyes flicking between the two of us with a frown, but whatever thought is in her head, she decides not to follow it and turns with a shrug toward the subway.

We both watch her go until the moment she turns the corner and then for the second time that day I grab someone by the arm, towing him through a gaggle of tourists as I bring him down the street.

“Nice to see you too,” he mutters and I stop, whirling to face him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Consulting an architect.”

“You couldn’t have let me know?” I ask. “So you’re not showing up at my office unannounced?”

“It wasn’t unannounced. We had an appointment.”

“I had an appointment with Mika Morris, not with you. How did you even know where I worked?”

“It’s called Google, Sarah.” But he looks chastised. “I looked you up when I got back to New York,” he says. “I saw your work with TradCo and I thought it looked good, I showed it to Mika, who thought it looked great, and here we are. If it helps my case, I wasn’t even going to come today, but she won’t sign off on anything without me present because I have a slight habit of constantly changing my mind. And I don’t know why you’re so mad about this,” he adds. “The meeting went well. Mika smiled three times. Do you know how rare that is?”

“I’m mad because you didn’t tell me about it first!”

He looks away then, mumbling something to himself.

“What?”

“I said I was going to tell you.”

“And it just what? Slipped your mind?”

“I chickened out, okay? Do you know how long I hung around your apartment when I went to get my watch? An embarrassingly long time. I’m pretty sure your roommate thinks I’m stalking you. Or weirdly into tax. I kept pointing at her law books, trying to make conversation so I wouldn’t have to leave. And that was after working up the courage to go there in the first place.”

Courage? I stand silent as he rubs his jaw. He’s not looking at me. He’s nervous. And while I don’t want him to be, a part of me likes that he’s not his usual cocky self, that he has moments of unsureness just like the rest of us. Just like me.

“Mika emailed in weeks ago,” he continues. “Before that and before…”

Before I saw him at The Greenery. When I didn’t exactly allow him to talk.

When I don’t snap at him again Declan gives me an almost hopeful look. A “please don’t be mad at me” one. When I don’t say anything at all, he sighs. “Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asks. “I don’t mean take the project away; we like your ideas. But I can step back, let Mika take full control, which she would prefer anyway. We don’t have to… interact if that’s what you want.”

I can feel a headache forming, a dull ache in my right temple, but whether it’s from the meeting or the heat or him I don’t know.

“No,” I say. It’s the truth. As much as having him around puts me off my game, not seeing him at all feels like it would be a whole lot worse.

“I’d like to see you again,” he continues carefully.

“Okay.”

His lips twitch. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Okay, you can see me again.” I frown when he doesn’t move. “Now?”

He smiles at the reluctance in my voice. “No, not now. What about this weekend? I can give you a tour of our office. Prove to you that I’m the real deal. We can talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yeah,” he says, the smile widening. “Why? You have something else in mind?”

“You—” I stop talking. He’s teasing me again.

And I don’t hate it.

We watch each other for a beat, both of us still as the city bustles around us.

I realize belatedly that he is very handsome in his nice work jacket and his nice work pants, looking professional and sexy, which is ridiculous because it’s 3 p.m. on a Thursday and who looks this good 3 p.m. on a Thursday?

“Are you checking me out?”

“No,” I say, embarrassed he caught me. He always seems to know exactly when my mind wanders.

“You can if you want to.”

“I have to go back inside.”

“Or I could show you around now,” he says, a fresh glint in his eye. “Why wait?”

“I have to work.”

“This is work.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday.”

His smile remains. I don’t know whether I want to slap it or kiss it off his face. “So just to confirm, I’m definitely forgiven?”

“Goodbye, Declan.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday,” he calls as I head back to the office. “No take-backs.”