Page 120 of Cakes for the Grump

It’s a tearing kind of scariness to see you’ve become entirely vulnerable to another. I don’t think I can bear it, but I don’t think I can go without it.

It’s all complicated, so I shut my eyes.

THIRTY-TWO

I getan email telling me the results of the last CUM round are going to be announced today. I wish to wait on the couch cradling my phone, refreshing my inbox every second, but Mr. Duncan is at Abbot Industries today, so I’m supposed to meet everyone there as they go over strategy. He was ecstatic to learn about our fake fiancé ploy. In his mind, it will increase our success at the conference, which starts tomorrow. It’sfinallyhere.

When I enter the foyer, I gird myself. The same security guard is manning the turnstiles, arms crossed and mouth puckered. Post-lunch time rush, there is a thick queue of people waiting to scan their badges to get inside. It’s doubtful I’ll get another chance to sneak in like last time. He probably has me pinned to an internal Wanted board somewhere. Rita, the soup menace.

The guard spots me lingering at the back. He arrows himself over, elbows lifted.

I suck in a breath.

“Ms. Singh?”

“Yeah?”

“Right this way.”

I’m escorted past the line, past employees ogling us. More evidence I’m in an alternative universe. The security guard asks me if he can hold my bag for me.

“Oh, there’s no need. It’s super light.” I show him by raising my tote up and down.

“It would be my honor, Ms. Singh. Please.”

Eventually, I concede. This trip is very different from the last one. The guard asks me if I require anything to drink or if he can run miscellaneous errands for me. I look at him with a frightfully blank mind and shake my head in a vigorous no. It’s nice (I guess) but also super weird to be suddenly given this much consideration.

The trip up the elevator is escorted, but it doesn’t feel like I am being supervised. More like he wants to make sure I don’t have to lift a finger, even to press the button.

The doors slide open. And hebowsas his goodbye.

Flustered, I’m not exactly focused when I meet Luke’s receptionist again.

“There you are!” She leaves her desk to greet me with an enthusiastic sprint over. Her hair is in the same tight chignon, but today’s outfit is a two-piece wine-colored suit with kitten heels. A dragonfly brooch in deep emerald is pinned to her lapel, the color also matching her delicate studs.

She escorts me to the boardroom. There aren’t many suits in here today, only Mr. Duncan, a woman who is legal counsel, and?—

“Theo!”

He runs over to squeeze me. His ivory-colored silk blouse is cool against my arms, and I relax, partially. A few hours with him will hopefully help me forget about the competition results coming in today.

“Not that I’m complaining, but how are you here?” I ask. “I thought you were gone.”

“It’s a big week for Luke. As his best friend, I had to fly in.”

Luke comes over. “He wanted a go in the private jet.”

“For support!”

“You emptied the bar and ate all the meals.”

“Again! For support!”

Luke slides an arm around my waist, and under the guise of a welcome kiss, murmurs, “Everything okay? Need anything?”

“I’m good.”

He tips my chin up. “Something has you stressed.”