Page 86 of Try Me
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“See.”Liza nudged Houston pointedly as I handed over her latte. I set the other one I was carrying on Mark’s desk and then paced in front of the windows restlessly until Houston gave me a look.
Mark rushed in a minute later, and I had to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from fixing the knot on his tie. “Tie,” I told him instead, and he fumbled to straighten it. “Coffee on your desk.”
“Are the files—”
“In the box right there. We’re all set.”
“Okay,” he muttered, shooting a glance over at Liza and Houston before saying under his breath, “Thank you.”
At a quarter to ten, the four of us gathered up our boxes and laptops and headed to the presentation room. Inside, Barrett was setting out bagels and a carafe of coffee. He put a hand on his chest as Mark and I walked in.
“Oh, now that’s a tie. Left side, boys. Liza and Houston are on the right.” He cocked his head and looked between us. “Wow,wowwwwww. That’s some thick tension right there. Who didn’t do their part? It was Markus, wasn’t it? Oh.Ohhhhhh, now wait a minute.” He squinted. “Or is it adifferentissue? Oh my, maybe I better stick around for this and see—”
“Shut up, Barrett,” we both said in unison, and he grinned happily.
“Mmmm, the two of you get me perking way better than our coffee. Too bad only one of you will be here next summer. I kind of like you as a team.”
Mark jerked his head toward our table, and we left Barrett to stare at us.
Several of the partners, along with our supervising associates, filed in at the top of the hour. Mr. Waring acted as the presiding judge, and there was a “jury” of associate partners.
At our table, I queued up the slides Mark had made. “Are you still good to do the opening arguments, or you want me to handle it?”
“I’m good for it if you’re still good to do the closing.”
“I am.”
“Then we’ve got this.” Our eyes locked and held, Mark’s blue gaze that same magnetic dichotomy of vulnerable and unwavering resolve that had captivated me on the ropes course. No, longer than that.
A physical twinge of pain crept through my chest and clutched my heart when I forced myself to look away.
A little longer. I could hold out. Then we would both disappear back into our former lives.
29
Mark
We were in the middle of packing up our papers after the mock trial when Chet pulled out his phone and stared down at it, expression darkening before he stormed out of the room.
I dropped the rest of the files in our box and ignored Liza and Houston’s curious looks as I went after him.
I found him in the copy room, pacing before the window as he spoke into his phone. He hung up after a terse, “I’ll take care of it. It’s fine.”
I could see the white in his knuckles as he clutched his phone and stared down at it like he wanted to throw it out the window.
“Pynch.”
Chet tossed the phone onto the counter, then punched his fists into the cabinet, curbing the momentum at the last second so the rattle of the hinges was minimized. He rested his forehead against the smooth wood facing. “I need one thing to go right. Just one fucking thing.Fuck!” He snatched up his phone again and shoved it into his pocket before slumping against the counter and raking a hand through his hair. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to curb the desire to reach out and smooth the strands back into place.
“We hired a sitter for Carrie for this summer because this neighbor lady who was watching her for free sucked and wasn’t paying any attention to her. Carrie needs a ride, and it’s right in the middle of my shift tonight, and my mom’s been working late so she can hopefully get this raise, and the sitter says she had something come up last minute. Like, isn’t that the story of life?Everyonehas shit to do. But that’s why we hired her in thefirstplace. So she would put our shit before hers.” Chet closed his eyes, pressed the heels of his hands to them, then blew out the air puffing up his cheeks in a long, exasperated stream. “It’s not a big deal. It really fucking isn’t. I can pick Carrie up and call in and be late like I’ve already done five other times this month. But Jesus, sometimes it’s just—I’m so envious of people whose biggest decision is whether they want ice in their coffee. And Iknow.Iknow everyone has their own shit. I’m lucky as hell I’m even here in the first place. Iknowall this.” He put a hand up, like I was about to interrupt him. “Ignore me,” he said, deflating, then blinked. “Why are you in here?”
I wanted to reach for him, touch him. Actually, fuck it, since I was dreaming big: I wanted to haul his ass onto a plane and take off for a deserted island where we could eat mangos, build a lean-to, and fuck all day, our bodies slick with sweat and sunscreen. But in the absence of a fairy godmother to grant my wishes, all I had was the mundane. “I can take Carrie wherever she needs to go. Even stay with her if you need me to.”
“That wasn’t the point. I’m just having a tantrum. It’s fi—”
“Tell me where to pick her up, and let me do this,” I interrupted, his exasperation feeding mine. It was infectious lately. I still hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Hadn’t been getting enough…anything, really. Chet seemed the same. I couldn’t stand seeing him upset. “It’s no skin. Jesus.”