My stomach plummeted through the bottom of my chair and landed on the floor at my feet with a splat. Nevertheless, my This is Fine face stayed firmly in place, proving once again to be my most useful superpower.
Tanner’s This is Fine face was not great, and it was especially terrible when it came to me. At the moment, his face looked every bit as consternated as I felt. Was consternated a word? I couldn’t remember anymore. It sounded made up. There went my wordnesia again.
Anyway, Tanner looked unhappy, which I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand any of this. What was he doing here, why would he agree to this, and why did he look so unhappy about something he’d surely had a say in and known was happening?
Unlike me, who’d been completely ambushed by this unpleasant development.
Byron made the introductions. “This is Arwen Nussbaum, who does all the graphic design for the team, and Linh Tran, our web developer.” Tanner mustered a shy smile for both of them, almost looking friendly for a second—until Byron got to me. “And this is Lucy Dillard, our content marketing strategist.”
For the first time, Tanner’s eyes met mine, and I felt it like a physical blow. It took all my effort not to flinch away from his steely blue gaze, which was at once so cold and so beautiful. My This is Fine face cracked, my pleasant expression slipping as competing feelings of discomfort, guilt, and apprehension lodged in the back of my throat.
“We’ve met,” Tanner said, his voice flat but still deep and familiar, stirring memories of former warmth that made his current hostility sting even more.
Byron glanced between us, his expression curious, obviously hoping one of us would volunteer more details. I waited for Tanner to say something else, to explain to everyone that we’d briefly dated and now my existence was abhorrent to him. But as the silence between us thickened, it became clear he’d said all he planned to say.
I was uncomfortably conscious of everyone’s eyes on me, but particularly Byron’s. He expected me to be gracious and welcoming to the VP’s brother and make a good impression for the sake of the team.
So I summoned all my This is Fine energy and produced a smile. In response, Tanner’s mouth pulled into a flat line, as if his brain had issued an order to smile back, but his face had refused to comply.
“My brother and Tanner’s brother are in a band together,” I said, knowing it would be enough of the truth to satisfy Byron’s curiosity. If Tanner didn’t want his new coworkers knowing about our relationship, I was more than happy to keep it between us. In fact, that would be my preference.
“Well great. That’ll make things easier.” Byron smiled wider, oblivious to the tension in the air. Maybe it wasn’t that noticeable, even though it felt like an emergency alert shrieking inside my brain. “Lucy, I’d like you to train Tanner on producing the newsletter so you can hand it off to him.”
“He’s taking over the newsletter?” I said, desperately cranking my This is Fine face up a few more degrees. The newsletter constituted half my job. Granted, I was currently doing the work of two people, but the newsletter was my thing. It was what I’d first been hired to do. And now it was being taken away from me.
“That’s right,” Byron said, flashing his over-whitened teeth. “He’ll be writing all the features once you’ve got him up to speed, which will give you more time to focus on the website and social media.”
“Okay.” I smoothed down the front of my shirt as I nodded. “Sure.”
“Great!” Byron turned his perky smile on Tanner. “You can take the empty desk directly across from Lucy. Make yourself at home.” He let out a chuckle. “Look who I’m talking to—you know this place better than any of us. But if you need anything at all, Lucy will take care of you. Right?”
“You bet.” I gave Byron a thumbs-up, doing the best This is Fine face of my life as Tanner stared at me like I was a bug he wanted to squash under his shoe.
3
Tanner
This was so much worse than I ever could have imagined. Possibly even worse than being head-butted in the dick and puked on. It was at least a close second.
There had to be at least fifty people working in the creamery’s marketing department. My sister could have assigned me to work with any one of them. But who did I end up working with? Sitting directly across from? Being trained by?
Lucy goddamn Dillard.
Of course.
Apparently I still had some penance to pay for whatever I’d done to piss off the universe.
I couldn’t blame Josie. She didn’t know Lucy and I had dated. If she had, she almost definitely wouldn’t have put us together like this. Maybe I should have told her, but I wanted this job, and I wanted it without the extra scrutiny and pitying looks I’d get if she knew about my history with Lucy. I’d figured I could handle seeing Lucy around the office. I could learn to smile and be cordial, as if I didn’t still have a scab where my heart had cracked in two.
It had never occurred to me that we’d be working side by side. By the time I’d realized, I was already in the creative director’s office, hearing about the role he’d generously created for me. I hadn’t wanted him to know Lucy and I had dated, because I didn’t want to lose this opportunity.
When Byron had first mentioned her name, for a second I’d felt like I couldn’t breathe. Fortunately, my autonomic nervous system had taken over, and I’d managed to keep my expression neutral while the reality of the situation sank in. Lucy wouldn’t just be some random peer whose desk I’d walk by occasionally. She was my new team lead. My mentor.
Then my new boss had walked me out to the bullpen and introduced me to my new coworkers. I’d barely noticed the other two as I greeted them, because Lucy had arrested all my focus the way she always did. Even now, when I wished I could ignore her, when I’d been trying for months not to feel anything, she still managed to be the center of my universe whenever I was around her.
I hated how calm she seemed about this. How agreeably she’d smiled when Byron had introduced us. Like it was nothing to her, not even the slightest bit uncomfortable. I suppose it was nothing to her, because I’d meant nothing to her. Seeing me again was a minor inconvenience.
God, how I envied that. The freedom of not having feelings.
I glanced at my watch, but it was only ten thirty. I’d never known time to pass so slowly. For the last hour, Lucy had been sitting with her chair right up next to mine as she walked me through the team’s workflow and processes—the file structure they used for storing documents on the shared drive, the company style guide I was supposed to follow, the department-specific channels in our corporate communications app. The whole time, I’d been able to smell her perfume, faint but unmistakable. It was the same perfume she’d worn when we were together, and it brought on a wave of powerful sense memories. There ought to be a law about that. After you broke up with someone, you should be required to switch to a different perfume to avoid giving them unnerving flashbacks to more intimate and loving times.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, whenever I leaned forward for a closer look at the computer screen, a wayward strand of her hair would tickle my face. I wanted to move it away, but then I’d be touching her hair, and that wasn’t something I was allowed to do anymore.