“At least my laptop is okay,” I said, opening it up on my desk. “Though my poor coat.”
“Your coat? You’re worried about your coat?”
It was much easier to dwell on the coat than to think about how close I’d just come to death.
“All that matters is that you’re alive.” Dominic, our other colleague, suddenly appeared in the hall outside my office. “You do realize how shallow you seem mourning a coat when your family could be mourning you?”
“Oh please, like you wouldn’t be the first one lining up to take her office.” Althea glowered at him. “Also, eavesdropping is creepy.”
“I’m horrified by the insinuation. About the office, I mean,” he replied emotionlessly, then looked around my small space. “Though I’d certainly decorate it more tastefully.”
Ever since my promotion to senior event manager, Dominic had been a little bit of a shit to me.
Ignoring him, I looked at Althea. “It was a designer coat. I got it on sale. Fifty percent off.”
“Ooh, that does hurt.”
“So does a train going at fifty miles per hour,” Dominic quipped.
Althea curled her lip at him. “You’re sick.”
He smirked at her, his eyes dipping insolently down her long body before returning to me. “Also, that coat didn’t even suit you. The train did you a favor.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Althea moving closer to the doorway as Dominic continued.
“You’re really too short for designer pieces like that. You should try—”
Althea slammed the office door shut in his face, and he yelped and jumped back as it almost smacked into his nose.
Althea stared at him through the glass door, smug.
He shot her a murderous look and stomped off out of sight.
I stared up at my friend in awe. “Will you marry me?”
“If it doesn’t bother Michelle, then sure.” Michelle was her fiancée.
“Why can’t Dominic be awful-looking to match his soul?” I complained.
“Such is the way.”
“You know, you probably hurt his feelings. I really think he genuinely likes you.” Althea was Dominic’s type. He had a models-only rule. Yes, it’s true: Dominic White was a superficial asshole.
With her perfect umber skin and long slender legs, my friend could have been a model. What she couldn’t be was Dominic’s girlfriend. Althea was way too smart and classy, and way too good for him. And he knew it. Besides, while Althea identified as pansexual, she was seriously taken. She and Michelle met senior year of college, and she’d loved her ever since.
“You’re delusional. Besides, I’d have to be desperate to want to date that jerk. He’s probably riddled with every STD known to man.” She was not wrong. Despite Dominic’s attractive features, I felt zero attraction toward my ultracompetitive, narcissistic, man whore of a colleague and was truly thankful Althea felt the same way.
“I’m going to make you some tea. A calming herbal one, perhaps?” she offered.
I gave her a look. “Not even a near-death experience will make me break up with coffee.”
“Your heart rate must be up. You shouldn’t drink coffee. Ever.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Never say never. I’m getting you an herbal tea.” She moved toward the hallway.
“With a dash of milk,” I called after her. “And coffee. In fact, just hold the herbal tea altogether!”
“You’re yelling, why are you yelling?” Lia strode into my office. “Is it because of the train incident?”
I gaped at my glamorous boss. “How did you hear?”
“Dominic told me. And he’s wrong about the coat. It was fabulous. I’m sorry for your loss, Hallie. How are things coming along with the Hawthorne engagement party?”
The truth was, I’d hardly slept the night before.
It was clear from that first video I’d opened last night that Darcy had sent me a link to files she hadn’t intended me to see. After a quick google, I’d discovered she used to date the astronaut. And by used to, I mean they must have broken up while he was still onboard the International Space Station, most likely because she’d met Matthias. By my calculation (and maybe after stalking his Instagram account of millions of followers!) Christopher had returned to Earth around six months ago. I’d found interviews of him on daily and late-night talk shows that occurred for several weeks upon his return. That wasn’t usual for most astronauts, but Chris had gone viral with a handful of his social media posts from the ISS and had become well-known globally. As the talk show hosts hinted, his good looks were definitely a factor in his popularity, but they also discussed how he was famous for being only the third Mexican American astronaut in space and had a huge following among the Mexican American community. I noticed in every interview that Chris acknowledged his background and was visibly humbled by the support of the Latinx community, but he also didn’t seem comfortable talking about his rise to fame.
Or his hotness.
And that was one hella sexy astronaut.
Which was why he was so familiar to me. I’d obviously come across him in passing.
I’d watched three of Christopher’s video letters to Darcy before I forced myself to focus on work.
There was also more than a slight chance that I’d downloaded all the videos to my computer.
Feeling sneaky and guilty, I covered it with a benign smile. “Great! They have vastly different tastes, but I think there are ways to bring those tastes together. I’ve got some ideas to pitch to them today at our lunch.”
“Hit me with them.” Lia settled down on the velvet occasion chair in my office. My boss had collaborated with one of Manhattan’s best interior designers to turn our small offices into chic spaces that exuded our style and attention to detail.
I nodded, throwing Christopher’s gorgeous face from my mind.
I replied, “Uh . . . well . . . Matthias would like a rock band while Darcy hates that idea and would prefer a string quartet. Easiest solution I can think of is to have a string quartet play instrumental versions of Matthias’s favorite rock songs.”
“Perfect, I love it. What else?”
* * *
“Well, I like it,” Matthias said in his mellifluous French accent.
Darcy looked at her fiancé. Her brow puckered in thought before turning to me.
I tried not to squirm.