Page 21 of Sunny Side Up
“That should be everything,” Avery said now, taking in our work.
We’d moved to the floor for some reason, laptops open, completely depleted but still buzzing.
“All of our connections, partnership ideas, favors to call in. Contacts in the space we can count on.” She turned to look at me, now lying fully horizontal on the ground. “What now?”
I closed my eyes and realized I wasn’t sure I’d blinked in the last few hours. Maybe the last few days.
“Tomorrow I’ll call Kateryna to check on which prototypes will be ready in time to bring to the meeting. She and Jacob have been hustling to finish at least three styles by then.”
I massaged my temples while Avery typed.
“Got it, very into that,” she said.
“I hope this investor is into it,” I said into my hands. I was crashing. How was she still going? Ah, to be twenty-two and able to pull an all-nighter.
“Oh, I keep meaning to look him up,” said Avery, as she clicked away. “I want to make us a dossier on him so that we can sell these suits directly to his soul .”
She paused. “Uh, Sunny, excuse me, permission to be unprofessional?”
“It’s past 10 p.m. Granted.”
Avery whipped her screen around to show me a certifiable silver fox with a boyish smile.
“Holy fuck,” I blurted out, red filling my face
“Is this him?! You said he was some old dude in a suit from Connecticut. Ted Manns is hot .” She was not wrong.
Avery had clicked on a Wall Street Journal interview Ted had done last year discussing his various ventures—specifically how everything he touched turned to gold.
“The Midas Manns,” read the title. I pulled her computer to me and skimmed the piece, learning about his early-stage investments in so many companies that had been acquired or gone public, like a collapsible bike company that was now used on campuses across the country.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought to research the very guy we were trying to sell my unborn child to.
I paused at the rapid-fire Q it was suddenly ten thirty.
“It was a great week one,” I said, standing up and pulling Avery off the floor. “Now go have a life this weekend. You’re only young in New York City once.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?
” Avery said, glancing around the conference room.
Her eyes landed on the gigantic stack of mail I had brought from home, as a futile reminder to actually go through it.
I hadn’t had a moment to sort the growing pile in weeks and planned on carrying it back home to go through this weekend.
But Avery was textbook type A, or so she told me whenever I admired her beautifully color-coded spreadsheets or mined her for tips so that I could attempt her superhuman time-management techniques.
Now that she’d officially clocked the stack, I could see her organizational wheels turning.
“Let me just finish the week strong and go through that pile for you. Or I’ll do it with you! Get one more thing off your to-do list, yeah?”
“Where do you get this energy?” I laughed.
“It’s almost 11 p.m. on Friday; run! Far, far away from here.
” I picked up the stack so she wouldn’t be tempted and flipped through it quickly.
My eyes snagged on a handwritten note that had been slipped into the mix.
Was this a ransom note? A serial killer’s threat?
(I needed to stop watching so many NCIS episodes right before bed.)
It was from Dennis, the mailman.
HEY SUNNY! I HOPE THIS ISN’T A WEIRD THING TO DO, BUT I FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT FOR NOT GETTING YOUR NUMBER WHEN WE MET THE OTHER DAY.
I’D LOVE TO SEE YOU AGAIN, MAYBE GET SOME COFFEE AT THAT SPOT YOU MENTIONED?
OR WE COULD TAKE THE DOGS FOR A WALK. GEORGIE WOULD LOVE TO MEET THE GOLDEN GIRLS.
ANYWAY, THIS IS GETTING LONG FOR A HANDWRITTEN NOTE IN YOUR MAILBOX.
MY NUMBER IS ON THE OTHER SIDE IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN LESS CREEPY COMMUNICATION STYLES GOING FORWARD. HOPE TO HEAR FROM YOU SOON.
DENNIS
Something about his note made me want to hug this piece of paper. It was so endearing: the careful handwriting, the date in the top right corner.
“What’s that?” Avery asked, her coat on, tote bag secured on her shoulder.
“It’s from that mailman who helped us move the couch,” I said, trying to process this a bit. I handed it to Avery, who read it quickly.
“You have to text him!”
I groaned at her, reaching to snatch it back. “I don’t know… is this weird? Isn’t dog walking more ‘friend zone’ than date?” I asked.
The countdown to Michael’s wedding was only getting shorter now that the calendar had flipped to mid-February. I was on the dating apps, still swiping away, but I hadn’t had time to go on a single date—SONNY pitch prep had been all-consuming. Though maybe that was a good thing.
I looked down at the note, and his phone number scrawled on the back. It was sweet and refreshingly different. Maybe Dennis was someone to consider. But then again, did I really want to date my mailman? What if it went south? Would I have to move? Would he beg his supervisor to change routes?
I was getting way ahead of myself. He just wants to go for a dog walk. Relax, Sunny . Maybe a casual friend date was what I needed.
But then Avery said, “I think it’s romantic.”
“And he’s really fucking cute,” I said with a sly grin. Again, I felt a flash of Zack’s potential criticism coursing through me. What would he say if he heard about this? If he saw us together? And more importantly, when would I stop caring? Why did I feel like Zack had a say?
“Well, keep me posted,” Avery said. It seemed she could sense that I was getting lost in my thoughts, so she headed toward the door. “See you Monday, boss.” I was starting to shove all my stuff into my bag when Avery stuck her head back in: “And you should text him!” Which left us both laughing.
When the door closed, I got up and collected my things, put my laptop in my bag, bundled up, and turned the office lights out. I collapsed into the back seat of a cab and let out a long exhale.
It had been an amazing, exhausting, roller coaster of a week, and now it was ending with a potential… friend date? Date date? With my mailman? This was certainly not on my bingo card , I thought with a chuckle as I headed home.