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She gave me the finger as I stood and gave her a hug.
“Hello, big brother,” she said, giving me a squeeze before releasing me and sliding into the booth.
I took a seat opposite her and poured her a generous helping of wine. She was twenty-four, but still my little sister, so I liked to give her a hard time. She could dish it right back.
Erica took a sip of wine and sat back in the booth, her familiar green eyes looking at me as if she already had questions to be answered. We looked so alike. Same dark hair, olive skin, eyes that changed with the lighting.
“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I haven’t seen you in the papers since last week…”
“And? That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, but I also feel like that was my way of keeping up with you. You’re so busy all the time. I even asked some of my journalist friends if they had anything on you.”
“Erica!” I said exasperatedly.
“Only kidding,” she said with a wink.
Erica was a journalist for theNew York Times. She mostly wrote about politics. It wasn’t our father’s first choice of career for her. Or second. But she found her passion in college for political science and always had a knack for writing. She was one of the youngest writers for theTimes, which was a feat that my father hardly acknowledged. So, I stepped in as the role of cheerleader.
“But really, what’s going on in your life?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.
“Work. Work. Oh, and more work.”
“You sound just like Dad.” She rolled her eyes.
I groaned.
“Any new ladies in your life?” she asked.
I thought about answering truthfully and telling her about Monica, but there was nothing really to tell. We had one night together and now we had to pretend like it never happened. I knew I could trust my sister, but I also knew I would just be getting her hopes up. She was always on me about settling down, but that wasn’t in the cards for me and Monica.
“No.” I shook my head.
She eyed me curiously, as if she didn’t believe me.
“Dad said you hired a new assistant. Maybe fourth time’s a charm?” she suggested with a smirk.
“Oh, shut up.” I shook my head.
We ordered a dinner of steak and lobster, and another bottle of wine. We spent the rest of the evening talking about her job at the paper and my strained relationship with Kathy at the office. It felt good to talk to my sister, who was always a good listener, but also gave me shit when I deserved it.
There were moments where the wine made me want to be loose-lipped and bring up Monica, but I bit my tongue. It was like I was finding any part of the conversation to somehow relate to her, which was ridiculous because I hardly knew the woman. Hell, I had hardly seen her all week. She had been on a wild goose chase of errands that I had sent her on. Maybe I missed her.
After Erica and I hugged goodbye on the sidewalk, I hailed a cab and headed home. I was drowsy from the wine and the savory steak and lobster that filled my stomach. I changed and clambered into bed, drifting off into a deep sleep that felt like it was interrupted too soon by the blare of my alarm.
I sat up slowly in bed and stretched my arms over my head. I just had one more day of trying to avoid Monica, and then it was the weekend. My head would be free of thinking up the minuscule tasks I had to come up with for her to do, and my imagination could stop running wild whenever I glimpsed her in the tight skirts she would wear. A part of me entertained the idea that she wore them for my benefit.
I went into the office on time for the first time that week, after spending my mornings waiting for Monica to leave the office. I figured I should end the week with something good for Kathy to report back to my father. When I arrived, Kathy gave me a simple nod of acknowledgment as I made my way down the hall to my office.
I saw Monica sitting at her desk and typing on her computer. She didn’t greet me as I walked by, either because she was distracted by work or avoiding me. Probably the latter. It gave me the opportunity to take in her dark hair that was pulled up in a high bun and the white blazer that revealed an ample amount of cleavage. Her lips were painted a deep red that I hadn’t seen before. I swallowed hard as I turned and went into my office.
I settled into my desk and reached for the iced coffee that sat on a tile coaster. It was the perfect color, just as it had been all week, since I wrote her that ridiculous email of expectations. I took a sip and savored the taste of the lightly sweetened espresso. Perfect. It was perfect every time.
Just as I swallowed my sip of coffee, there was a knock at my door. I looked up and was surprised to see Monica standing there.
“Er, hello. Monica. Come in,” I said.