The Reunion (Liv): Not My Style

"I can't believe you chose to work when you can just hang out for the summer.  Do you know how many people would kill for a schedule like that?!"  Lauren was baffled by the fact that I had begged my bosses for some work to do to keep myself busy.  They had happily put me to work about 10 hours a week, which was perfect.

"I would hate it," Kinsley said, nodding at me.  "I get it.  I think too much when I don't have enough to do."

I laughed.  "It was great for two weeks," I said.  "But that's enough.  I never realized how many hobbies I don't have until I suddenly had time to do them.  Or not do them, as it were.  And it doesn't help that Brody works about a thousand hours a week and you guys both have jobs and boyfriends and lives and can't entertain me all the time."

"Speaking of boyfriends," Kinsley said, grinning wickedly at Lauren, "How's the cohabitation space search going?"

"That," Lauren said, sighing.  "Not well.  We found a place and we put in an offer and lost it in a bidding war.  Then we found another place, our offer was accepted, but they found significant issues with the pipes during the inspection. We looked at a rental that I really liked but Alex hated.  And then of course, a bunch of places that sucked."

"That sucks," I said, frowning.  "You're staying month to month at your townhome then, right?"

"Yeah," Lauren replied.  "But I hate being in limbo."

Lauren, Kinsley, and I hung out at the restaurant for awhile after we were done eating, finishing our drinks and chatting.  After we ate, I went to the grocery store, not in any hurry to get home to an empty house.

When I got home, I was surprised to find Brody's SUV in the garage.  "Brody?" I called, struggling through the door with grocery bags in hand.  I was halfway to the kitchen when Brody appeared from his office.

"Hi, gorgeous," he said, kissing me on the cheek as he took the grocery bags from my hands.

"What are you doing home?" I asked.  "I mean, not that I'm not thrilled to see you.  Because I am."

Brody laughed.  "A likely story.  I came home awhile ago because I wasn't feeling very well.  Annnnd then I realized I hadn't eaten all day.  I was fine once I ate, so I've just been working here."

"You need to take better care of yourself," I said, frowning at him in concern.

"Don't worry," he assured me.  "I don't anticipate it happening again.  I mean, how could it, with a fridge full of your delicious cooking?"  He squeezed my arm and kissed me, then started to put groceries away.  I helped him, putting the dry things away in the pantry while he put stuff in the fridge.  "Anyway, listen.  Pete asked me to support a charity that's important to him, and since he's important to me, I'm going to do it."

"Well, that seems like a good idea," I replied.

"I thought so," he said, grinning.  "At least until I found out that he asked me just in time for their annual fundraising event.  Which I now have to go to."

I laughed, trying to picture Brody at a formal charity event.  It definitely seemed like something he would hate.  "Well, have fun with that," I said.

"Oh no," he replied, shaking his head.  "One doesn't go to a charity event without a date."

"And I suppose that means I get to be your date, huh?" I asked.

"I'd be honored," he said with a wink.

I couldn't say no to that.  "Fine," I agreed.  "But you'll have to be reeeaaallllyyyy nice to me between now and then."

"How nice are we talking here?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow and taking a step towards me.  "Like, taking the garbage out without being asked nice?  Buying you diamonds nice?"

I laughed.  "You already take the garbage out without being asked," I pointed out.  "Diamonds aren't necessary.  How about a massage?  That seems like a good compromise."

"Well, a massage doesn't really seem like a middle ground between taking the garbage out and buying you diamonds, but I think I can handle that."

"Good!" I said.  I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

"Oh, you meant now," Brody said, feigning surprise.  "Hmmm, I'm not so sure I can--"  He stopped, laughing when I turned and glared at him.  He pulled me to a stop and tugged me closer to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and grinning at me.

"You're lucky you're cute," I told him, pursing my lips to try to keep myself from returning his smile.
He grinned wider.  "So lucky," he replied, leaning down to kiss me.

"That massage isn't happening, is it?" I asked, barely moving my lips from his.

"Nope," he replied, moving his mouth along my jaw, to my ear, and down my neck.  "Not tonight.  I owe you one."

*

"I feel like an imposter," I groaned, watching Lauren fix one last piece of hair.  She'd pinned it to one side, leaving loose waves out in strategic places.  I smoothed my hands down the midsection of my navy gown, feeling far more nervous than the situation called for.

"You don't look like an imposter," she said, smiling at her handiwork in the mirror.  "I mean, this is some of my best work."

I laughed.  "You did do a great job," I said.  "Thank you.  I would have looked ridiculous in this dress without my hair properly done."

Lauren started to respond, but a soft knock at the open door interrupted her.  "Almost ready?" Brody asked.  I turned towards him and watched his mouth drop open slightly.  "Wow," he said, looking me over.  "You look unbelievably amazing."

"Thank you," Lauren said, before I could respond.  "I've been working out."

"Go home, Lauren," I said, laughing.

"Some thanks," she huffed, gathering her bobby pins and hair spray.

I rolled my eyes.  "Thank you, I love you, now go home so my husband can properly appreciate your hard work!"

The look of horror on her face was perfect.  "I'm already gone," she said.  "I don't want anything to do with your marital appreciation."

"I wish I had more time to properly appreciate you right now," Brody told me after she was gone.  "But I assure you that I'm looking forward to getting that dress off of you later."

"I kind of like it," I said, checking myself out in the mirror one last time.  "I might just keep it on forever."

Brody frowned.  "Well, that would be tragic, though you are quite gorgeous with it on."  I laughed and nudged him out the door, thanking him as we walked downstairs.

"I feel kind of ridiculous," I admitted.  "This isn't really my style."

"You're not the only one," he said.  "I can't believe I let myself get talked into this.  Though it's a good cause and the exposure is good for my company."

"Oh please.  You can charm anyone.  I'm the idiot that will ramble and say embarrassing things.  Oh god, please promise to pinch me if I start to ramble.  Don't let me look like an idiot tonight!"

Brody laughed.  "I promise.  No one is going to look like an idiot."

When we got to the event, we immediately headed for the bar.  I was grateful to have a glass of wine in my hand, mostly because it gave me something to do with my hands.  "There you two are," came a familiar voice behind us, as we moved away from the bar.

We turned to see Pete and his wife, Serena.  "You clean up well, Pete!" Brody said, grinning and shaking his hand.  Brody kissed Serena on the cheek and then she lightly hugged me.  I may have felt awkward and out of place, but Serena looked like she knew exactly what she was doing.

We made small talk for a couple minutes before Pete dragged Brody off to introduce him to someone.  Serena and I stayed near the bar chatting until Brody and Pete returned.  "There's a surprising number of people here I know," Brody said, looking around.

"You know everyone, so I'm not sure why that's surprising," I pointed out.

He grinned.  He knew it was true.  "Walk with me?" he requested, holding his arm out to me.  I took it and as we walked across the room, Brody said, "I was so distracted by how beautiful you look that I forgot to tell you my good news."  I looked at him expectantly.  "We filled the last open position today."

"So..." I said, not sure I wanted to say out loud what I thought that meant.

"So there's an actual end in sight for my ridiculous hours now," he said.  "She'll start in 3 weeks, and I think about 2 weeks after that I'm going to start cutting down my hours and seeing how it goes.  I'm already working on shifting some of my responsibilities to the team leads."

"That is so exciting!" I replied.  "I mean, selfishly, I'm really glad that I'll get to have you around a little more.  But I'm also really excited for you.  You've worked so hard."

"Brody!" someone called, before he could respond.  Brody turned and smiled at someone.  He introduced me to the man, who was apparently a Denver Broncos cornerback.  "Your husband is the best PR I've ever had," he told me, grinning.  "And I went through quite a few before him."

"That's why I'm keeping you when we restructure," Brody said, laughing.  "I'm not going to let you run through my team."

"I told him he works too hard but he won't listen to me," the cornerback said to me.

"Join the club," I said with a chuckle.  "He won't listen to me either."

The rest of the evening was much of the same:  smiling through introductions, making small talk with the many people at the event that Brody knew, and wishing I had worn more comfortable shoes.  But the food was good, the bar was open, and I even had a little bit of fun.

"Well, what did you think?" Brody asked as we got in his SUV at the end of the night.

I groaned, slipping my heels off.  "Well, I think I need to invest in some more comfortable shoes if we ever do this again."

"Again?" he asked.

"I said 'if'," I reminded him.

"You also said 'again'," he replied, and I could see his smirk even in the dark.

I laughed.  "It wasn't so bad," I admitted.

"I agree," he replied.  "It didn't hurt that I happened to have the most beautiful date there."

I snorted and shook my head as he reached for my hand over the center console.  "Flattery will get you everywhere, I suppose."

"I can only hope," he said, winking at me.

Liv: The Finale

I have so many feelings about this final post and wrapping up this blog.  It's been 19 months, over 300 posts, and so many different characters' stories.  Can you even believe it?  I can't.  I can't thank you guys enough for all your feedback, kind comments, emails, and loyalty.  You all kick so much ass.  To take the some of the sting out of the very end of Liv's (and Lauren's and Kinsley's, of course!) story, I'll be posting a bonus over on In All the Wrong Places tomorrow.   Thanks for taking this crazy ride with me!
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5(ish) YEARS LATER...

I cocked my hip out to rest Celia on so I could free one hand to knock on Kinsley and Damien's door.  At almost 3 years old (and built like Brody, not me) she was getting too big for me to carry for too long, but she'd just gotten up from a nap and was too groggy (and crabby) to walk.  That changed when Damien answered the door with a tiny baby in his arms.  Celia immediately lifted her head from where it had been nestled on my shoulder.  "Mommy, a baby," she whispered loudly to me.

I laughed and Damien grinned.  "Yes, sweetheart," I told her.  "Remember I told you we were coming to help a friend with her baby today?"  She shook her head, her dark curls brushing my jaw as she did.  

"Hi," I said to Damien, turning my attention to him and the baby as I stepped inside.  Once inside, I put Celia down and she stood patiently next to me, occasionally rising onto her tip toes to peer up at the small bundle Damien was holding.

"Hi, thanks for coming over," he replied, leading me and Celia into the living room.  

"Kinsy!" Celia yelped, seeing Kinsley on the couch.  I tried to shush her but she was already bouncing loudly over to Kinsley.

"Sorry," I apologized.  "Babysitter fell through and Brody's down helping his mom with something today."

"Don't be," Kinsley said, wrapping an arm around Celia and hugging her.  Celia tolerated it for about 3 seconds before she wriggled away.

She came back over to me and tugged my shirt.  "Mommy, wanna hold the baby."  

"Let's hold him together, Cee," I suggested.  She seemed satisfied with that and waited patiently until I got settled in an armchair next to the couch.  I lifted her into my lap, and once she was settled, Damien carefully placed Nicholas in our arms.  I supported his head while Damien helped Celia get her little arms in the right place.  

"Tank you Mr. Damien," Celia said, once we were settled.  She stumbled over his name, and I tried not to laugh at how adorable it was.  She had started calling him Mr. Damien months ago, and none of us had any idea why.  Toddlers.

"Good manners, Celia," I praised her.  

Nicholas's face squished up and then relaxed again, and I gazed down at him.  He was a little over 2 weeks old and definitely still a floppy, squishy, adorable newborn.  I smiled as I watched his lips work in his sleep.  

From the couch, Kinsley laughed softly.  "What?" I asked, looking over at her.  She looked far better than she deserved to just two weeks after giving birth to Nicholas.  

"You want another one, don't you?" she asked.  "I see how you're looking at him.  Don't get any ideas, I worked hard for this one."  And she had.  Kinsley's pregnancy and birth experiences had been the exact opposite as mine.  She'd been sick through the whole pregnancy, and blood pressure issues had landed her on bed rest at 32 weeks.  But once she went into labor, it went fast and without issues and she went from her water breaking to delivering him in less than 3 hours.  

"I do want another one," I admitted, being sure to keep my voice down to not wake the baby.  Celia was staring at him, absolutely entranced.  "Not yet, though.  Maybe once this one starts school."

"Who, me?" Celia asked, suddenly aware of the conversation around her.  

"Yes, you," I told her.  She craned her neck around to look at me and wrinkled her nose.  I laughed.

"Well," Kinsley said, stifling a yawn.  "That's great for you, but I'm never doing this again.  So I sure hope Damien is cool with Nick being an only child."

We both looked at Damien, who didn't miss a beat when he said, "I think I'm going to go run those errands now."  Kinsley smirked as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.  

Celia was starting to get antsy, so I shifted the sleeping baby so she could climb off my lap.  She immediately started hunting for Mowgli, Damien and Kinsley's big tiger-striped cat.  "Mooowgoli," she called softly.  "Kitty kitty!"  

"Mowgli heard you coming from a mile away, kid," Kinsley said under her breath.  "You'll never find him."  I laughed, surprising Nicholas.  His eyes flew open and he made a brief, unhappy sound before falling back to sleep.

"Liv, can I shower while you're here?" Kinsley asked.  "It's been....well, a few days.  Let's just leave it at that."

"Of course," I told her.  "Take a bath if you want.  And a nap.  Just let me run out to the car and grab the things I brought to entertain Celia.  I'm here all afternoon, whether you like it or not.  Take advantage of it."

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world," Kinsley said dramatically.  "Seriously, thank you."  

I handed the baby over to her and ran out to the car to get the stuff I'd brought for Celia.  When I came back in, Kinsley had Nicholas down in the Pack 'n Play in the living room.  He was still sleeping away.  She showed me where to find bottles, formula, and diapers, then disappeared upstairs.  

While Kinsley took a bath and napped, I washed their dishes, sorted the laundry in the laundry room and started a load, cleaned the half bathroom on the main level, swept and mopped the kitchen and living room, dusted, and straightened up.  Celia knelt in front of the coffee table and colored, then helped me dust.  I paused in the middle to feed and soothe an unhappy Nicholas.  He was awake now, and after I changed him I laid him down on his playmat where he could see me and talked to him while I folded clothes.  Celia sat on the floor next to him and entertained him for awhile too.

I was in the middle of folding the second load of laundry when Damien came home with groceries.  He looked around and said, "Kinsley is never going to let you leave."  I had Celia pairing socks as I folded shirts and pants.  "Also, if you can come back when Nicholas is two and teach us to how to get him to help with chores, that would be great."

"She loves it," I said with a shrug, watching her lean over the edge of the laundry basket, happily searching for socks.  "I'm sure it won't last forever, though."  

Damien put the groceries away and then came back into the living room.  "You've been busy, Liv.  Thank you.  I can take care of the rest."

"Don't be ridiculous," I told him.  "I came to help.  Kinsley is upstairs napping.  You could do the same.  Or if you have something else you've been wanting to get done, go for it.  Celia and I have everything under control.  And Lauren had mentioned maybe stopping by this afternoon, so you might as well relax now."

"Oh, that's right!" Damien exclaimed.  "She asked me to make some room in the freezer.  I guess she's bringing some food.  So I'll do that, and then I think I might take you up on that nap."  Before going downstairs to the freezer, he crouched down next to Nicholas and talked to him for a minute.  Then he leaned down and kissed him lightly on the head and headed down to clear some room in the freezer.

"Mommmmmmy," Celia whined, flopping onto the floor on her back.  "Wanna go outside!"

"Maybe when Lauren gets here we can go outside for a few minutes," I told her.  She continued to whine and I calmly paused my folding, took more paper and crayons out of the bag I had brought, and said, "Celia, come draw me a pretty picture."  She stopped whining and seemed to consider this, then rolled onto her side, sat up, and scurried over to the coffee table.  She happily talked to me about what she was drawing while I folded laundry with one eye on her picture and one eye on the baby.

I was just finishing up folding when Lauren knocked and then let herself in.  "Look at you," she said teasingly.  "A regular Suzy Homemaker.  Are you practicing for number 2?"

I rolled my eyes at her.  "The questions never stop.  Never ever.  First it's 'when are you getting married?'  Then it's 'when are you having a baby?'  Then it's 'when are you going to give your baby a sibling?'"

Lauren smirked and replied, "At least you won't hear, 'are you guys ever going to get married?' forever and ever."

"Well," I said, grinning at her, "are you?"

"You're the worst," she said.

"Not nice!" Celia piped up, seeming to just realize that Lauren was there.  She looked surprised as she looked up from her picture.

"You're right.  Sorry, Cee," Lauren apologized as I smirked.

Celia frowned.  "Say sorry to mommy," she demanded.

"Celia, it's okay," I told her.  "And please use your manners."

Celia narrowed her eyes briefly in a shockingly good side-eye at Lauren, then turned to her and said, "Say sorry to mommy, please."  I bit my lip to keep from laughing, and looked at Lauren expectantly.

Lauren threw her hands up and said, "Sorry, Liv."

"Apology accepted," I replied, grinning.  Celia smiled and clapped, then went back to her picture.

"That kid, man," Lauren said softly.  "You're going to have your hands full."

"I don't know if it would be better for her to be like me or Brody," I admitted.  "So far she's an awful lot like me, though.  It's only slightly terrifying."

"I'll stick to 'raising' my child-like employees," Lauren said.  Lauren hadn't been unemployed for long, landing a great job at a small, newer company a couple months after she quit.  When the investigation at her former employer turned into a huge scandal that included a class action lawsuit against the company, she had actively avoided any part of it, and soon after got the new job.  She had been there since, and was now a mid-level supervisor.

I paused as Damien came up the stairs and greeted Lauren.  He chatted for a little while, and I watched Celia get up from her seat at the coffee table, go over by Nicholas, who was sleeping again, and curl up on the floor.  "Want a pillow, Cee?" I asked her.

"I not sleeping, mommy," she informed me firmly.

"Oh," I replied.  I grabbed a small throw pillow from the couch and Damien handed me a blanket and I set them down next to her.  "Well, in case you want to get more comfortable."  She ignored the blanket and pillow until I lifted the sleeping baby from the floor and went back to sit on the couch, then she yanked the blanket over her legs and nestled her head on the pillow.  She was out cold by the time Damien headed upstairs to nap.

Lauren took the freezer crock pot meals she'd prepared downstairs and put them in the freezer, then came back up.  "Want to hold him?" I asked her, already knowing what she'd say.

"No way," she responded.  "I'd probably break him."  She did touch his soft, fine dark hair and smile, but that was the extent of her attention to the baby.

"Have you guys talked to Alex's parents yet?" I asked.  Lauren had worked hard to try to form relationships with Alex's parents, but at Christmas they'd apparently had a huge blowout over Alex and Lauren's choice to not get married.

She groaned.  "No, I haven't.  Alex has a couple times, but he said they've just pretended that it didn't happen and they ignore my existence unless Alex brings me up directly.  If they think we're going to get married just to please them, they've got another thing coming."

Cautiously, I asked, "What does Alex think of it all?"

"He's pretty mad at them.  He's really embraced this whole not getting married thing, and it's almost like his parents pushing back has convinced him even more.  He's so oppositional sometimes."

Lauren and I talked quietly on the couch until Kinsley came down, looking clean and groggy.  "That was the best and worst nap I've ever taken," she declared, reaching for Nicholas.  I handed him over.  "Best because that was probably the longest I've slept at once in 3 months, and worst because I woke up."

"If you hadn't woken up, you'd be dead," Lauren pointed out helpfully.

Kinsley rolled her eyes and eyed up Celia on the floor.  "I wish I could sleep anywhere like a kid," she said wistfully.

"One day, shortly after going back to work at the end of my maternity leave, I actually did just shut my door and take a nap in the armchair in my office," I said.

"Oh good, I have so much to look forward to," Kinsley said, laughing.  "Except I don't have an armchair in my office, so I guess I'm going to have to practice napping under desks."

"I have a couple employees that could probably give you tips on that," Lauren offered.

It was nice to have some time to catch up with Lauren and Kinsley.  We were all so busy now that it was hard to find time to do the things we used to do. After waking up from her impromptu nap, Celia was stuck to me like glue and whiny, so I said my goodbyes and headed out with her.

I wasn't expecting Brody to be home from helping his mom yet, but his SUV was in the garage when I pulled in.  I got a cranky Celia out of her carseat, grabbed the rest of my stuff, and banged on the garage door with my elbow because my hands were full.  Luckily, Brody opened the door for me just seconds later.

He kissed my forehead and took some things out of my hands.  When he leaned in, Celia grabbed a fistful of his shirt and whined, "Daaaaddddyyyyy."

"Hi, honey," he said, kissing her head.  "I missed you and your mommy today."  He gave me a questioning look.

"I think she's getting sick," I guessed.  "At Kinsley's house she laid down on the floor and just fell asleep for almost an hour."  I pressed my cheek to her forehead briefly but she didn't feel hot. Brody set down the stuff he'd taken from me and I handed off Celia to him.  My heart melted a little when she cuddled happily against his chest.

I put away the stuff I'd brought to entertain her today and then peeked in on them.  Brody had her in his lap on the couch, and he was reading her a story.  I smiled to myself as he did voices for the different characters and she giggled.

I stood and watched them for several minutes until Brody looked back at me and motioned me over to the couch with a smile and a tip of his head.  I took just a few seconds more to observe and appreciate the two people that I loved most in the world, then finally went into the living room to join them.

Lauren: If It's Important to You, It's Important to Me

This one snuck up on me, and you guys are going to be displeased, but this is the last Lauren post!  I thought it would end up being two posts, so I was going to warn you today and then have one more.  But it didn't work out that way once I got it all written up.  I know there are still a few loose ends, but I promise that those will get tied up in the very last post of the blog.  The next Kinsley post is very likely her final post as well, but I haven't written it yet, so I'm not positive.  Be prepared for the possibility.
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I manage a few hours of restless, dreamless sleep.  In between, I toss and turn and think about what Alex said.  I'm not an idiot.  I can understand his original point.  I know that if it was anyone but me, marriage would be part of Alex's long term plan.  Maybe kids, too.  And I get why he's frustrated and hurt by my reluctance to move in or seriously talk about anything long term.

But I'm also hurt by him saying that I haven't done anything to show him that I'm truly in this.  Is he for real?  I don't know what else he would consider these last 6 weeks to be, but he knows me well enough to know that I wouldn't do any of the things I'd done for him out of guilt or the goodness of my heart.

I try to remind myself that both our lives have been disrupted in serious ways.  People don't think rationally when they're upset.  We both have other things going on that have increased our stress.  But I've been trying so hard to show Alex how much I love him since the night he was in the hospital and questioned it.  I don't know what else he needs, besides me to decide to move in with him.  To me, that seems like a really arbitrary marker for commitment.  People can move out just as easily as they move in.  Everything else I've done (especially making peace with his parents and doing my best to be polite to them even as they continued to be rude and dismissive of me) says more to me than moving in ever would.

It's nearly 4am before I realize that the fundamental problem is that we have different ideas of what commitment looks like.  Alex, who is probably still coming to terms with the fact that I may never want to get married, is looking for something a little more concrete and traditional.  I, in my ever-oppositional state, consider more abstract things to be an even bigger show of dedication.

Trying to figure out how to meet in the middle keeps me up until 5:30.  Finally I give up on that, and fall back to sleep for awhile.  I wake up again around 7 and just throw in the towel and get up.  I take a long shower and spend far too long doing my hair and makeup.  Around 8:30 I give up on stalling and call Alex.

He answers right away.  "Hi," I respond to his greeting.  "Can we talk?"

"Yes," he replies.  "I can come over."

I get a bowl of cereal while I wait and eat it mindlessly.  I hate fighting with Alex.  It's so rare, and it's always awful when it happens.

I see Alex pull up in my driveway and I open the door for him.  "Hi," he greets me, smiling sheepishly.  He surprises me by hugging me tightly and then kissing me.  "I love you, and I'm sorry."  I blink in surprise, and he continues.  "I was an asshole yesterday, and you had a good point.  But I'm also kind of unhappy and I also think you are, so I think we need to talk about that.  Without me taking cheap shots."

"I agree," I say softly.

We both sit on the couch and I look at him, waiting for him to start.  "Well," he says, fidgeting nervously.  I have to bite my lip, because I've never seen him so nervous and it's adorable, but also this isn't a good time for that.  "Lauren...you were right last night.  You've done a lot in the last several weeks to show me that you're committed to me.  I was an idiot for not seeing it.  It honestly didn't even occur to me how much everything you've done lately means in that way.  I'm sorry for not recognizing it, and I'm sorry for being a dick about it last night."

"Thank you," I say, relieved that he can at least see that.

"You're welcome.  Everything you've done means a lot to me, and where it comes from with you means a lot too.  But everything that has happened makes me even more sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and it's hard when you won't even have a conversation about it."

"So let's have a conversation about it," I say.

Alex looks at me silently for a second, then says, "I want to have a conversation about why we can't even talk about it."

That isn't what I'm expecting, and I'm not ready for it.  "I...well...what do you mean?"

Alex starts to sigh, but catches himself.  "I don't know, Lauren.  Tell me what freaks you out so much about it that you physically react when I even mention it."

"It doesn't freak me out, that's the thing," I tell him.  He looks skeptical, but I push on.  "It just doesn't mean the same thing to me that it means to you.  So when you think 'move in together', it means commitment and taking things to the next level.  When I think it, it doesn't mean to that me.  So all I think of is how much things change, and it's hard for me to see the meaning of it.  And if you say 'let's move in,' and I say, 'yeah, but', what you hear is that I don't want to commit.  But that's not true.  It's not true at all.  So instead of trying to explain it, I just avoid the conversation because it's easier."

Alex looks confused, and I can tell I didn't do a good job explaining.  "So, if you don't want to get married, and moving in doesn't mean 'commitment' to you, what does?" he asks.  I have to give him a lot of credit for trying to understand.

"I don't really know how to explain it," I tell him.  I see his face change, and I hurriedly continue.  "No, wait.  I'm going to try, I just needed to let you know that it might not make a lot of sense.  To me, commitment just...is, I guess?  Like, if I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with you, I wouldn't even still be with you.  Much less having this terribly uncomfortable but undeniably important conversation.  It's in all the things I had to do differently than I normally would have in order to help you out for the past month.  I don't change my routine for just anyone, you know." That gets a small smile out of him, and I smile back.

"Look," I say.  "I get it.  I get where you're coming from.  You pictured getting married and having kids someday, like most people do.  Then I came along and for some stupid reason you fell in love with me, and I basically ruined the idea you'd created of what your life would be like.  That sucks."

"Well--" Alex starts, and I can tell by his face that he's going to argue, to say it's not that bad.

"No, it does suck," I insist.  "You don't have to lie about it.  Alex, I have no intention of changing my mind about getting married.  It's not me.  I don't understand it.  I don't want it.  If you want to get married, it's not going to be to me.  I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I'm not ever going to marry you."

He stares at me.  Before he can get too upset, I continue.  "If you're okay with that--and I mean truly okay with it, because the worst possible thing you could do is stay with me hoping that someday I'll change my mind--then let's move in together."

Alex looks stunned.  He doesn't say anything, so I just keep talking, because apparently that's my thing now.  "I'm not going anywhere until my lease is up, obviously, but that gives us some time to plan and talk about it and all that shit that people do."

His eyes narrow suspiciously, and he finally says something.  "Are you just doing this to placate me?"

I take a deep breath and try not to lose it.  "No.  Do you know me at all?  When is the last time I did anything to placate anyone?  Much less made a major life decision just because someone else wanted me to?"  He's still looking at me suspiciously.  "Alex, my resistance to moving in with you is because it's change.  It's change, and it's giving up my space, and those things are really hard for me.  It has nothing to do with my level of commitment.  I don't think a living situation says anything about how committed someone is.  But I don't not want to live with you.  It just doesn't mean the same thing to me as it does to you.  But if it's important to you, then it's important to me.  I won't marry you, but I will absolutely live with you.  And I might even like it."

Alex finally grins at me.  "We can have separate bedrooms, if you want," he teases, and I know we're okay.

"Don't tempt me!" I tell him.

He frowns then, his brow furrowing with concern.  "My house isn't the best set up for us both," he admits.  He's right.  It's tiny.  It's probably smaller than my townhouse, but it's laid out a little better.  His frown deepens.  "But neither of us are exactly in the best place to be thinking about buying a new house.  Or even renting one."

I shrug.  "We'll figure it out.  We have a little time.  And it's not like we don't have options.  We've made your house work for now, though I've always had my place to go back to when I need a little space.  Otherwise I can probably stay here month to month until we can find something else, if we decide that's what we want to do.  I hope I'll have a job soon.  You have a job, it's just a matter of time before you're back to work full time.  It's going to be fine, we just can't be impulsive."

Alex rolls his eyes.  "As though you'd let us do anything impulsively."

"Some day you'll thank me," I retort.

"I doubt it," he replies, smirking.

"So, is this a thing?  Are we going to move in together?" I ask him.

He looks puzzled.  "Well, yeah.  I mean, isn't that what we just established?"

"You're really, truly okay with never getting married?  Or having kids?" I ask, studying his face for any hint of hesitation or uncertainty.

"Yes," he answers immediately.

"And you're not just saying that because you assume some day I'll change my mind?" I press.

"No."

"Because I know that you'd get married and have kids someday if you were with someone else," I say.

"Lauren, I don't want to be with someone else," he insists.

"Okay," I relent.  "I just know that getting married and having kids is really important to a lot of people."

"Those things aren't as important to me as being with you," he promises.  "And not getting married and not having kids are things that are important to you."  Then he grins as he says, parroting my words from earlier, "If that's important to you, it's important to me."

Lauren: Commitment

Before I even think about what I'm doing, I hang up.

Alex looks up at me, confused.  "Who was that?  Why'd you hang up so fast?"

"It was a reporter from the Denver Post," I answer.  "He wanted to talk to me about my job."

My phone starts ringing again, and I stare at it.  "You know," Alex says, looking amused.  "You could just tell him you don't want to talk to him."

"Oh, look who has logic and reason today," I retort.  "I can't answer now after I hung up on him.  He'll think I'm ridiculous."

Alex snorts.  "He already thinks you're ridiculous.  But you're right--if you answer, you're giving yourself numerous opportunities to become even more ridiculous."

I glare at him and hit the button to silence the call.  "You're--" I start.

"The worst," Alex interrupts.  "I know."  He grins at me and I roll my eyes and turn away before he can see the smile tugging at the corners of my lips.  I head upstairs to my makeshift office.  I need to comb through job postings again.

I actually find 3 that I want to apply to, and I carefully craft my cover letters and tweak my resumes, then send them off.

I get a call later that day from a job I applied to the week before, asking to set up an interview.  I don't answer it, fearing that it might be the reporter again.  After I listen to the message, I call back and set up an interview in two days.

The next day, I meet Liv for lunch.  I'm taking advantage of being off work and using it to improve my social life.  "How's the job search going?" Liv asks after we order.

"Not bad," I reply.  "I have an interview tomorrow."  I fill her in a little on the job search, and we talk about my old company.  Liv read the article in the paper and we'd texted about it quite a bit already.  "And how's married life?"

She groans.  "I wish everyone would stop asking me that," she answers.

"Uh oh," I say, concerned.

"Oh!" Her cheeks turn pink.  "No, nothing's wrong," she clarifies.  "It's just everyone's favorite question.  Actually, things are really good.  Brody finally has things at work set up the way he wants them, and things are starting to really slow down for him."  She tells me about his restructure at work and their plans to take a trip to Jamaica in March.  "Everything should be set by then, and we can celebrate him finally having a normal amount of work.  Provided nothing goes wrong between now and then, at least."

"That's awesome," I say sincerely.  I've struggled watching how busy Brody is.  From the outside, it's hard to see how their relationship works sometimes.  To me, it's seemed like he hasn't always made Liv a priority and I know they fought about it a lot towards the beginning of their relationship.  It's great to see him really making an effort to make more time in his life.  I know they want kids someday, and Liv has said that she won't even talk about it until his work schedule is more manageable.

"How is Alex doing?" she asks me.

I shrug.  "Pretty well.  He's working from home some, and we've been getting out more.  He's pretty self-sufficient now and only really takes pain meds once in awhile.  Usually after he overdoes it."

"That's great!" Liv says excitedly.  Unfortunately, she has to get back to work soon, but we make plans to go out this weekend.


My interview the next day goes well, and I leave it feeling hopeful.  I really click with the interviewers and I like the the feel of the company.  I stop on the way home to pick up some groceries, and I'm a lot more cheerful than I've been in awhile.

When I get back to Alex's house, he helps me put the groceries away.  I head upstairs to change out of my suit.  Then I make my way back downstairs and lay on the couch, settling my head on Alex's leg.  "I was thinking," I say, getting comfortable.

"Wait," Alex interrupts.  "If you were thinking, I think I need a beer before I listen."

"Shut up, jerk," I tell him, rolling my eyes.  "I was just thinking that once we're both working again like normal, productive members of society, we should plan another trip.  Savannah was so much fun until...well..." I stop.  I don't need to say 'until your mom went full bitch and tried to replace me.'

"I was thinking too," Alex counters.  "I kind of like this sweet set-up, and I thought maybe you could get a job and I'll just be a stay at home boyfriend forever."

"Tomorrow's headline: woman kills boyfriend with bare hands just for the hell of it," I reply.  "And anyway, who would pay your mortgage then?  Because I'm surely not paying my rent and your mortgage."

"I thought you'd appreciate my plan because it's breaking traditional gender roles!" Alex says, pretending to pout.  "And anyway, I just figured you'd eventually move in.  Or we'd find a new place together."  He throws this part on casually, but I stiffen involuntarily.

I hear him sigh, but I don't say anything.  "Laur," he says gently.  "You've practically been living here anyway.  I'm not saying let's move in together tomorrow, but I'm also struggling with the idea of spending the rest of my life with someone that I don't even share a house with."

I sit up and look at him.  His jokes are gone, and he looks serious.  "I'm not saying I don't ever want us to live together," I tell him uneasily.

"No," he replies, looking frustrated.  "Maybe in 10 years you'll be okay with some real commitment."

I blink in surprise and my mouth drops open a little.  I stare at him, and he returns my gaze easily.  "Alex," I start, but I stop.  I have no idea what to say.  I finally settle on, "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" he asks.  "You're terrified of commitment.  Hell, we've known each other for almost 9 years at this point, and the best I can get from you is a verbal confirmation that you want to spend the rest of your life with me.  All talk, no action."

"Now that is really not fucking fair," I protest, trying not to raise my voice.  "I've spent the last how many weeks here, taking care of you?  I slept on your hospital bed after your accident.  I cried in public like a huge fucking mess.  I've put up with your parents, who hate me and just want me to go away, and I've done things for you that I don't even like to do for myself!  So I'm sorry, but just because you don't recognize those things for what they are, it doesn't mean I'm all talk and no action.  I've been nothing but action since the weekend before Christmas!"

My voice, which rose steadily as I talked on, shakes slightly and falters on the word "Christmas."  I try hard to see his perspective, and if I wasn't so angry I might be successful.  But I'm livid at his accusation that I've done nothing to prove that I'm in this for the long haul.  Where has he been these past 6 weeks?

I see the uncertainty in his eyes, and I can tell he's thinking about what I just said.  But I also see the stubborn set of his jaw, and I know this conversation is going nowhere good, and fast.  "I think maybe I should go home for now," I say softly.

"Sure," Alex says bitterly.  "Run away."

"I am not running away," I hiss fiercely.  "I am giving us both some space so we can come back to this after we've had some time to calm down and think.  You're hurt.  I'm hurt.  If I stay here, one or both of us will say something stupid and potentially relationship damaging.  I am walking away to save this relationship."

Alex doesn't say anything, and after giving him plenty of time to respond if he wants to, I stand.  I force myself to walk calmly up the stairs, and I collect some of my stuff.  Might as well do some of my laundry when I'm at home.  I've been doing it here, but I'll need something to do at home.

When I come back downstairs, Alex is standing with his keys in his hand.  "What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously.  Alex hasn't driven since before his accident.

"Going for a drive," he snaps.  I resist the urge to caution him and I just nod.  He follows me out the door, locking it behind me.  I don't wait around to watch him walk into his garage.  I leave as soon as I get in the car.

On the way home, I try to remind myself that the last 6 weeks have been really trying for both of us.  I hate being unproductive and not working.  Alex hates being cooped up.  That's all this is--our frustration of the last 6 weeks coming out sideways.  I hope.

Kinsley: Good Enough

Once I started talking, I couldn't stop.  Lauren, who had started off leaning against the kitchen doorframe, sat down heavily in the armchair in the corner after a couple minutes.  She listened silently as I verbally vomited the events of the last few weeks at her.

When I was done, Lauren pursed her lips and just looked at me for several seconds.  I looked away and pulled my knees up to my chest, bracing myself for the verbal smackdown I was sure I was about to receive.  Finally, she surprised me by saying, "When are you going to stop feeling like you're not good enough for him?"

My head snapped up and I stared at her.  She met my gaze and stared back.  "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Kinsley, come on," Lauren said.  "Look, I don't know enough about pre-college Kinsley to know if something has happened that's made you have this weird inferiority complex that I think you have.  But I know self-sabotage when I see it, and you are guilty."

I narrowed my eyes.  "You think I'm trying to fuck up my relationship?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head.  "I don't think you're trying to fuck up your relationship.  I don't think you're aware of it.  But I think that on some level, you feel guilty about something, or like Damien is better than you and you don't deserve him.  In turn, you're doing stupid shit to confirm that belief and force him to break up with you, which will further confirm it."

I looked at her skeptically.  "I didn't realize you were fucking Freud," I muttered.

"Listen to me," Lauren persisted.  "What did you do when you guys broke up?  You went out and made a bunch of questionable decisions.  You might argue that you'd have done all those things before you started dating Damien, and maybe you would have.  But you wouldn't have done them all in as short of a time period."

"I fail to see how that has anything to do with me feeling like I'm not good enough for Damien," I said, crossing my arms.

Lauren thought for a minute.  "Okay.  You deal with your feelings by drinking, exercising, and having sex.  Especially with sex.  Do you at least agree with that?"

"Yes," I agreed grudgingly.

She nodded encouragingly.  I still did not see her point.  Luckily for me (eyeroll) she continued.  "You use sex to feel loved, to feel validated, to feel happy, to deal with being pissed off or hurt."  I glared at her, not appreciating the first two things.  "When you and Damien broke up, you went out and had a bunch of sex to deal with being hurt and angry, and to feel validated.  It was like you needed to prove to yourself that you were good enough.  That men wanted you."

"Yeah, but not really, because I was still miserable."

"That's exactly my point!" Lauren crowed.  I rolled my eyes.  "You were still miserable because men wanted you, but they didn't love you."

"You know what, I'm really sorry that I called you," I muttered.  "You're not making any fucking sense and you're starting to piss me off."

"You should have called Liv, she could have explained this a lot better and been a lot nicer about it," Lauren said.

"Oh, have you been talking about me?" I snapped.

Lauren nodded.  "Yes.  I mean, not as an ongoing thing, but we were both worried about you the night you left the bar with Cole.  So we did talk about you."

I stood up and glared at Lauren.  "You are an asshole," I told her.  "If you were so fucking worried, why didn't you say anything to me?"

Lauren's cheeks flushed a little and she glanced down.  "You're right, and I'm sorry," she said, looking back up at me.  "We should have.  We wanted to, but I was worried that if we tried, you'd get angry and push us away.  Then we wouldn't be around if something like this happened.  We thought it would be better for you if we didn't say anything at the time."

"Whatever, Lauren," I muttered, shaking my head.  I walked to the door.  "I'm going home."

"How?"

"I only live a half mile away, remember?  I'll walk."  Of course she doesn't remember, she's been MIA lately.

My hand was on the doorknob when the doorbell rang, making me jump.  "Pizza is here," Lauren said softly. I backed away from the door and let her answer it.  Lauren answered the door, paid the delivery driver, and shut the door.  "Look, if you want to go home, I'll take you.  If you want to eat, I'll shut up.  I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry that I did.  I'm sorry that Liv and I were talking about you and didn't just tell you we were worried.  If you want to talk, I'll listen and I'll keep my mouth shut."

I glanced at the door and then back at Lauren.  I was still a little wobbly from my 4 martinis, and the pizza did smell really good.  My stomach grumbled softly and I decided to stay.  "I'll eat," I said finally.  "And I'll also take you up on that offer to shut up."

"Okay," she said, grinning.  "I'll get some plates."

We sat and ate in silence.  I didn't care for the quiet, so I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.  I flipped through the channels until I found some Friends re-runs and left it there.  After about 20 minutes of neither of us talking, I looked at Lauren.  "Inferiority complex?" I asked.  "Really?"

"Okay, that was a really poor choice of words," she said.  "Sorry."

I was quiet again for a few more minutes.  Then, still staring at the TV, I started talking.  "His family is amazing, and mine is a disaster.  I don't talk to either of my parents.  The last time I saw my mom she threw something at my head and called me a whore.  The last time I saw my dad he physically assaulted me and basically disowned me.  My brother spent half my childhood in jail and just resurfaced a couple months ago.  Damien's mom loves me and his sister is married and has two great kids.  Even his stepdad is really nice to me.

"Damien has his shit together and can stay calm in a crisis or an argument.  When he's pissed at me, he tells me calmly.  When I'm pissed at him, he listens while I yell at him and act like a fool.  Meanwhile, I've fucked half of Colorado's male population and lose my shit if someone looks at me wrong.  When I'm mad I yell and say hurtful things and run away like a child.  Aside from having a good job and a retirement account and some investments and a decent amount of money in savings, I'm not very good at being a grownup."

Lauren listened silently, as promised.  "So," I finished, "I don't even think that it's just that I think I'm not good enough for him.  I'm just not.  I'm a disaster."

"Why do you think Damien is with you?" Lauren asked softly.

"I...don't know," I replied, biting my lip.  "I don't even know."

"He seems like a pretty reasonable guy," she pointed out.  I nodded.  "He seems like he knows what he wants."

"Yeah," I agreed.  "He's got his shit together."

"So why would someone with his shit together be in a relationship with 'a disaster'?"

"I don't know," I said again.

"Think about it," she prodded gently.  "Why is Alex with me?"

"Because he's loved you forever," I said, rolling my eyes.

"But why does he love me?"

I shrugged and rubbed the back of my neck.  "Because you guys just...work.  You get each other's sense of humor.  You have things in common.  He probably enjoys having sex with you."

Lauren laughed.  "I hope so," she said.  I smiled a little.  "Do you think he'd be with me if he thought I wasn't good enough for him?"

"I see what you're doing," I muttered.  "Of course he wouldn't."

"Does Damien act like you're not good enough for him?  Does he treat you like you're less than him?  Not let you make decisions?  Is he disrespectful to you?"

"Of course not," I replied.  "I wouldn't be with him if he did.  He treats me better than anyone else ever has."

"Then you're getting in your own way, because you're the only one that doesn't see you two as equals," she said bluntly.  "And my guess is him treating you so well is part of the 'problem' because you don't think you deserve it."

I didn't say anything for a long time.  I toyed with a piece of pizza crust laying on my plate.  "So what do I do about it?" I asked finally.

"Talk to him," Lauren answered immediately.  "Tell him all of this.  And Liv would suggest therapy, I'm sure."  I snorted.  Tonight was the first that Lauren was hearing about any of my shit, why would I tell a stranger?    "Talk to him, at least," Lauren said.  "I love you two together, and I want you to be happy."

I looked around for a clock, then realized Lauren didn't have one.  Another check in my grownup column.  I may stomp my feet and slam doors when I'm pissed, but at least I have a clock in my living room.  I pulled out my phone.  It was not quite 8pm.  "Call him," Lauren urged me gently.  "If you want to see him tonight, I can take you."

I glanced at her, then back at my phone.  She stood and took both our plates into the kitchen, then I heard the water running.  With a shaking finger, I pulled up my recent calls and tapped Damien's name.  He answered halfway through the second ring.  "Kinsley."  The way he said my name in greeting made me feel sad for some reason.

"Hi," I said quietly.

"Hi," he replied.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I answered.  "I think so, anyway." I paused, but he didn't say anything.  "Damien, I'm sorry for the way I acted this morning.  Can we talk?  I want to see you."

"Yes," he said immediately.  "Should I go there, or do you want to come here?"

"I'm at Lauren's, actually.  I, um, don't have my car.  She said she could drive me over there if you want."

"I can come get you," he responded.  "Give me 15 minutes, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed.

Lauren appeared in the doorway shortly after we hung up.  "Do you need a ride over there?" she asked.

"No, he's coming to get me," I said.  "Thank you for everything tonight."

"You're welcome.  And I really am sorry I started off kind of poorly."

"It's fine," I said.  "I wouldn't have heard you any other way."

Damien arrived 15 minutes later, just like he said.  I hugged Lauren impulsively--rare for us.  I couldn't remember the last time I'd hugged her.  "Good luck!" she told me.

"Thanks," I replied.  "I might need it."  Then I opened the door and left the safety of Lauren's house and headed towards Damien's truck at the curb.

Kinsley: Tough Love

Happy Saturday, all!  Come back tomorrow for a special Valentine's Day treat: an excerpt from the first post of my new story, "In All the Wrong Places."  The blog launches with the first post on March 1st, but of course I'm going to torture you all with a sneak peek!  

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I woke up early the next morning.  Really early.  Uncomfortable under Damien's arm, I carefully extricated myself, leaving Damien sprawled across his half of the bed and part of mine.  It was just a little after 5, almost an hour before Damien would get up.

I quietly got dressed, pulling on a tank top and a pair of pajama pants that were laying on the floor next to the bed.  Once downstairs, I made some coffee before I grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch.  I flipped the TV on and turned the volume down enough that I was certain it wouldn't wake Damien.

My eyes glazed over as I mindlessly watched some stupid early morning show for about 40 minutes.  The perky blonde hosts were chirping cheerfully away about some new fad diet when I uncurled myself from the nest I'd created on the couch and walked into the kitchen to make some breakfast.

I'd just started scrambling some eggs when I heard footsteps on the stairs.  Seconds later, Damien appeared in the kitchen.  "You're up early," he said softly, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I woke up around 5," I told him.  I considered telling him I wasn't tired anymore or couldn't sleep, then decided not to lie and just ended my statement as it was.

He dropped a light, tender kiss where my neck meets my shoulder and tightened his arms around me.  "I got a little worried when I woke up and you weren't there," he said.

I abruptly set down the fork I was using to aggressively over-beat the eggs and turned to face him.  "You were?"

"I still am," he admitted.  I looked at him curiously, and he took a step back and sighed.  "Kinsley, I can't tell where your head is, and I don't think you know either.  You do impulsive things when you're not thinking clearly."

I bristled and clenched my teeth.  "You said you trusted me," I spat, suddenly furious.

Damien tried to move closer to me and I dodged him, stepping to the side.  "I do," he said calmly.  "But I don't think you trust yourself, and that worries me."

"You don't know anything," I hissed.  I didn't know why I was so angry all of a sudden, but I was and it was overwhelming.  "Don't tell me how I feel!"

"Kinsley," he started, but I didn't let him finish whatever he was going to say.

"No," I interrupted.  "Don't.  Just...go.  Please."

Damien's level gaze wavered, and he looked confused.  "Go?" he repeated. "Kinsley..." His calm was crumbling and I could tell he thought I meant something that I didn't mean.

"Not forever," I amended, trying to think clearly.  "Just...I can't have this conversation right now.  It's not even 6 am."

I could tell he wanted to argue.  I could tell he wanted to protest, to demand to stay, to talk about this rightnow.  But instead, after several long, agonizing seconds, he set his jaw and nodded.  "Okay," he agreed.  "I'll go."  He tentatively moved towards me again, and I didn't move.  He touched my elbow and kissed me softly on the cheek.  "You tell me when you're ready, then."

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes.  Unsatisfied, he tipped my chin up with a gentle touch.  I locked eyes with him and said, "I will."  Damien took a deep breath, nodded again, and left the kitchen.  I listened to his footsteps go up the stairs.  Not even a minute later, the footsteps came back down, and then the front door opened and closed.

I turned briefly back to the eggs that were now thoroughly beaten on the counter.  I looked at them sitting in the bowl, yellow and slimy.  Disgusted, I dumped them down the drain and shoved the bowl angrily into the dishwasher.  Then I stomped upstairs to get ready.

Over my lunch break, I called Lauren.  I needed a reality check.  She answered.  "Can we do dinner tonight?" I asked, not even returning her greeting.

"Sure," she replied, sounding confused by my tone.  "Do you want me to invite Liv or Kendra?"

"No."  I needed brutal honesty, not coddling.

Lauren didn't say anything for a moment, then asked, "Is everything okay?"

"We'll talk tonight.  I need to get back to work."  Lauren accepted that and we hung up.

I got to the restaurant early and sat at the bar to get a drink.  I hadn't eaten breakfast and I'd just eaten a random granola bar I found in my desk for "lunch."  When things got chaotic, I lost my appetite.

I ordered a gin martini and sipped it a lot slower than I wanted to.  I was awfully early though, and sipping slowly didn't stop me from drinking too much.  I was just finishing my third when someone sat down next to me and said, "Bad day?"

I blinked placidly at him, then smirked.  "Something like that," I replied.  I glanced at his empty scotch glass, cocked an eyebrow and asked, "What's your excuse?"

"Good day," he replied with a devilish grin.  He was handsome in a cheap department store catalogue sort of way.  "Promotion and a hefty raise."

I was bored already, but humored him.  "Congratulations," I said.  I turned and thanked the bartender, a tiny waif of a girl who could barely reach past the call liquors, as she deposited my fourth martini in front of me.

"My name is--"

"I actually don't give a fuck," I interrupted.  I stared straight ahead, taking a good sized drink.

After a moment of what I can only imagine was stunned silence, Mr. JCPenney snorted.  "Then I guess I don't care about yours either," he replied.  I thought he'd leave, but he leaned closer to me.  Apparently bitches turned him on.  "So, how about you finish that drink, and--"

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?"  I turned my head and saw Lauren standing behind me, her disgust apparent.  "Did you pay cash or do you have a tab?" she demanded, gesturing at my drink.

"Cash," I informed her.  I almost laughed at the bewildered look on Promotion-and-Hefty-Raise's face.

"Then take that and get over here, because I got us a table and you're being an idiot."

"I actually just told this man that I don't give a fuck about him," I responded calmly, shrugging as I stood.  "Apparently he likes that sort of thing."  I looked seriously at Lauren and said in an exaggerated whisper, "Mommy must not have loved him enough."

"I am so sorry," Lauren apologized to the asshole next to me, who now looked angry.  She grabbed my forearm and pulled me away from the bar.  "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" she snapped, after practically shoving me into a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant.

"Didn't eat enough and drank too much, I imagine," I replied.  I was starting to become amused by her clear irritation.

"And I suppose you drove here, as well," she said with disdain.  I nodded.  "Well knock it off before I take you home."

"Sorry, Mom," I replied.  "Oh wait, my mommy didn't love me enough either, and she wouldn't give a shit if I got home safely."

Lauren gaped at me.  Our server showed up at that second but paused, looking between Lauren and me.  "I'm really sorry," Lauren said.  "Something came up and we need to leave."

"Oh, of course," the server replied, looking confused.  "I hope everything is okay."

"I do too," I said to her, nodding seriously.

Lauren stood abruptly and stared pointedly at me.  "Let's go," she hissed when I didn't immediately stand.  I followed her dutifully, becoming aware of the fact that I was not fit to be seen in public right now.  As soon as we were outside, Lauren almost exploded.  "You are a mess," she chastised me.  I didn't answer.

She pulled out her phone and dialed someone while we walked in what I assumed was the direction of her car.  "Yeah, can you order a pizza for delivery to my house?" she asked someone.  She paused, listening.  "Thank you.  I might not be back tonight."  Another pause, with a glance at me.  "I'm not sure, but I hope to find out....okay, love you too."  She hung up and looked at me, making sure I was still walking along next to her.

She said nothing more until we were in her car.  Then she turned to me and said, "You and Damien broke up again."  It was a statement, not a question, and said it kindly.  Well, for Lauren anyway.

"No," I replied.  "Not yet."

"Not yet?" she asked.  I didn't say anything.  "Kinsley, does this have something to do with Cole?"

When she said that, I crumpled against the door.  I stayed silent.  She sighed softly and started the car.  She drove straight to her house and we went inside.  "Do you want something to eat while we wait for pizza?" she asked me.  I shook my head.  She went into the kitchen and came back with a large glass of water, which she handed to me wordlessly.  I took several long drinks while she stood and watched me.

Finally, I set the glass aside and looked up.  I tucked my hands between my knees to make them stop shaking, and then I finally spilled the entire story to Lauren.

__________________________

Don't forget to come back tomorrow for your sneak peek of "In All the Wrong Places"!

Lauren: Fired

I sit down heavily on the couch and scan the article:
                 Several top executives have been placed on paid leave while an undisclosed, independent  company investigates claims of sexual harassment.  One former employee from the company's Boulder office has come forward and said that she was sexually harassed on several occasions by her former supervisor.  Sean Condin, the supervisor in question, was quickly and quietly moved to one of the Denver locations following the incident.  This appears to be his second move within the company. Condin, who was already on paid leave for unknown reasons, was fired yesterday amidst the accusations.

There's more, but I've seen enough.  "Wow," I say, slowly folding the newspaper.  Then the dots connect and I look up at Alex in panic.  "Shit, what if they think I violated the non-disclosure?"

"The employee in the article is from the Boulder office," Alex reminds me.  "And from the sounds of it, this is something that has been in the works for awhile.  Probably since before you even quit."

"Which explains why they were so eager to give me a nice severance package and have me sign the non-disclosure," I reply.  "What the fuck."

"That means they knew this was happening the whole time," Alex finishes my thought.  "That's..."

"I know."  We look at each for several seconds, then I shake my head and say, "I'm glad I don't work there anymore."

"I am too," Alex says.

I narrow my eyes.  "And I knew there was something off with him!  I told you."

"You did tell me."

"And you blew me off," I accuse him.

"I did blow you off," he agrees again.  "I will never blow you off again."  Then he smirks, because apparently he's 12 and "blow you off" is funny.

"Good, because I imagine you still want to be blown at some point in your life," I retort.

"Mmm, I kind of want to be blown right now," he replies, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"That sucks," I tell him, standing up.  I intend to go back into the kitchen to finish the dishes I was washing when he called for me.  He snorts and I roll my eyes.  "Go ahead, make the joke," I dare him.

"Well it's not fun anymore," he complains.

I smirk and head towards the kitchen.  "Neither is blowing you!" I call over my shoulder.

"Ouch!" he yells back.  "I'll remember that!"

"File it away with your fond memories of blow jobs!" I shoot back.

I hear him start laughing and I grin to myself.  Now that Alex is starting to work again a little, he's been in a really great mood most of the time, rather than just some of the time.  I've even dragged him grocery shopping with me just to get him out of the house, even though I absolutely hate grocery shopping with him.  He's like a small child, wandering away and coming back with fruit snacks or random cookies and throwing them in the cart.  I reach down to grab something, stand up, and he's gone.  Reach for something else, turn around, and he's back with candy.  It's the worst.  But getting him out of the house helps his mood more than anything else, so I suffer in silence.

I'm just finishing up the dishes when Alex yells, "Your work ex-boyfriend is texting you again!"

"You must mean my ex-work ex-boyfriend," I correct him, walking back into the living room.

"I have no idea what I mean," he replies, handing my phone to me.

"Are you supporting my ex-work-romance?" I tease him, sitting down next to him.

He snorts.  "No, I already read the text when it popped up on the screen and it's clearly not romantic in nature."  I cut my eyes at him and he laughs.  "And also I trust you, and all that jazz."

I roll my eyes and open the text.  It says, "Holy shit.  You see the paper?"

"Yes, can't say I'm shocked." I text back.  I see Alex trying not to peek and I thrust my phone in front of his face.  "You can just look if you want to," I tell him, smirking.

"I don't want to!" he insists, shutting his eyes.  I laugh and hold my phone an inch from his face so his eyes cross when he opens them.  "Seriously, are you 12?" he asks, laughing.

"Says the guy who was making blow job jokes earlier," I reply, shaking my head.

"No, I believe you tragically took that pleasure away from me," he says.

I can't help it, I burst out laughing.  "It has so many meanings," I say when I finally get my shit together.  My phone vibrates in my hand, startling me enough that I drop it.  Alex tries not to laugh, but when I try to use my toes to pull it closer and end up sending it skittering across the room, he cracks up, holding his ribs with both hands.  "You're the worst," I mutter, walking over and picking it up.

"I'm the worst for laughing because you dropped your phone and then kicked it across the room?" he asks, wiping tears off his cheeks.

I don't answer, simply glaring at him instead.  I swing my feet up onto the couch, propping them against his leg, as I text back and forth with Logan for a couple minutes.  Alex takes one of my feet and starts massaging it.  "If you're trying to win back blow job privileges you're doing a great job," I inform him.

"I'm not even," he replies, shaking his head.  "Don't think everything you've done for me in the last 6 weeks has gone unnoticed.  I think you've totally earned a foot rub."  He stops abruptly, placing my foot back down on the couch.  "In another 6 weeks, I'll do the other one."

I raise my eyes from my phone and he's smirking at me.  "You're the worst," I tell him.  "I'm going out for lunch and I'm not taking you with me and I'm not bringing anything back for you."

"Finally some peace and quiet.  See you later!" he replies, fighting to keep a straight face.

I lift my phone to my ear and pretend to be having a conversation.  "Hi, Liv?  I'm going to need a shovel and an alibi."

Alex grins and leans over, grabbing my hand and tugging.  "Come here," he requests.  I shift around and settle myself carefully against his right side.  "I love you."

"I love you too," I reply.  "And I know you appreciate all the hard, agonizing work I've put in over the last several weeks.  I'll be patiently awaiting your repayment."

Alex chuckles.  "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

I have plans to have lunch with Kendra, who has the week off work.  Alex jokingly complains about me leaving him on his own for lunch but quickly shuts up when I offer to bring him back some food.  I haven't spent much time with Kendra lately.  She was pretty sick for the first couple months of her pregnancy so she wasn't doing much.

"Hi!" I greet her cheerfully when I walk into the restaurant.  She's standing just inside the door, waiting patiently for me.  We hug briefly, because it has been that long, and I grin at her.  "You look so good," I tell her.

"I feel fat," she complains.  She smooths her shirt carefully over her itty bitty bump.  "It's just enough that I just look really bloated."

"Not a chance," I assure her honestly.

We sit down and order an appetizer, then start catching up.  I miss her, and I don't even realize it until we're sitting here talking.  Missing people is weird like that for me.

"So I just got a promotion a couple weeks ago, and I feel bad because--" Kendra starts.

"You got a promotion?" I ask, surprised.  "I had no idea!  Congratulations!"

She smiles shyly.  "I did," she confirms.  "I haven't seen you so I guess I didn't even think to tell you, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I insist, feeling guilty for not keeping in touch with her better.  "Okay, go on."

"I feel bad because they don't know I'm pregnant.  I'm worried they're going to be pissed that I didn't tell them when they offered it to me, but I was worried they would take it back."

"I don't think that's legal," I say, shaking my head.

She shrugs.  "Even so, I didn't want them to second guess it.  Though I guess they will when I tell them, anyway."

We chat about her promotion for awhile and then I fill her in about what's new with my former job.  an hour passes really quickly and I'm disappointed when she says she has to go home to meet a contractor that's doing some remodeling on their house before the baby comes.

We hug again and I get in the car.  I'm driving home when my phone rings.  It's a number I don't recognize, and I ignore it.  It rings again as I'm walking into Alex's house.  Irritated, I answer it.  "Is this Lauren?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

"Yes, who is this?" I snap.

"My name is Jacob, and I'm a reporter for the Denver Post.  Were you recently fired or let go from your job?  I'd like to talk to you about your former company."

Lauren: Headlines

I don't tell Logan everything, of course.  I'm not stupid.  I don't say anything about the non-disclosure agreement or even that Sean got into my email account and sent the email on my behalf.  I simply fill him in on the call I got, the severance package, and the weird encounter (an edited version to not give too many details) with Sean by the bathroom.

"Sean is apparently on paid leave," Logan fills me in.  "No one really knows why, but that explains it.  If you ask me, I think he's up to even more shady stuff."

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.

He shrugs.  "I don't know, but he's sketchy as hell.  I've thought that from day 1."

"So did I," I agree.

We both stand quietly for several seconds before Logan asks, "How's the job search going?"

"It's not, really," I admit.  "There isn't a lot out there.  At least with the severance and what I have saved, I can just apply to things I think I'd really like.  I'm not in a huge hurry anymore.  I need to check out those networking resources you sent me.  Thank you for that, by the way."

"Yeah, no problem," he replies.  "It's how I got this job.  I hope they're helpful for you."

We chat for a few more minutes, then go our separate ways.



Two weeks pass, and it's more of the same.  Job search, do some things for Alex, keep my house clean on top of it.  I spend most nights at his house, only sleeping at my own every 3 or 4 nights.  Alex is now working from home for a couple hours a day a few days a week.  He's thrilled with having a bit more to keep him busy.  He's also getting more self-sufficient and better able to use his left arm.  I'm relieved as his need for me drops a little because it means I don't have to feel bad about spending more time at my place instead of his.

Despite having my own stuff and Alex's stuff to keep me busy, plus him to keep me company, I'm going stir crazy.  I get a couple leads through one of the networking resources Logan gave me, and I apply for them and wait.  Finally, about 4 weeks after I originally walked out, I get an interview.

I relish the excuse to dress up and do my hair and makeup.  I've let myself devolve into a bit of a slob, wearing yoga pants and sweatpants and leggings far too often.  I won't even tell you how often I actually put a bra on.  You'd be ashamed, and that's fine.

Unfortunately, by 10 minutes into the interview, it's really clear to me that this isn't the company for me.  The job itself sounds great, but the three people interviewing me (one of whom would be my direct supervisor, and another is his direct supervisor) seem uptight and micromanaging, which doesn't work for me.  I confirm this by asking a question about what a typical day looks like.  I find out that lunch and break times are dictated and every minute of the day must be accounted for.  Next!

I go to Alex's house after the interview and collapse on the couch next to him.  He's playing video games, which is a fairly new thing for him, and I sit irritated and quiet until he gets to a place he can stop.  "How'd it go?" he asks.  Then he takes a second look at my face and says, "Oh, not good, huh?"

"Not good," I confirm.  "I think I need a hobby."  I've never been one for having hobbies.  I don't work out, I don't do crafts (seriously, can you imagine me crafting? I didn't think so.), I'm not artistic, and I can barely walk in a straight line without tripping over something.  Generally my own feet or, you know...air.

"I've got some hobbies for you," Alex says with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know," I say rolling my eyes.  "I guess it's about lunchtime."  Without waiting for him to respond, I stand up and stomp towards the kitchen.  I really do need to come up with some hobbies soon before I self destruct.

I hear him come into the kitchen behind me but I ignore him.  I'm standing and staring into the pantry, realizing that I desperately need to pick up some groceries, when he slips his right arm around me from behind.  "That's not what I meant," he says softly before sucking my earlobe between his lips and nibbling on it.

I sigh and close my eyes, lunch completely forgotten.  It's been almost 5 weeks since we've had any sort of sexual contact and I'm turned on the second I even feel his breath against my neck. I take a deep breath and get a hold of myself before I rip his clothes off, then turn and look at him.  I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he's just as ready to go as I am, but I ask, "Are you sure?"

"If we don't, I might die," he tells me with a totally straight face.  I laugh, because dramatic is not normally his style.  "We'll just have to be careful."

"I don't know if I have careful in me at this point, but I'll do my best," I promise.

He smirks.  "That's fine, I'll give you something else to have in you."

"You're disgusting," I say, rolling my eyes.  "Let's go upstairs."

Alex grabs my hand and pulls me upstairs, moving a lot more quickly than I'd seen him move since before his accident.  We're barely even in his bedroom when he presses his lips to mine and pulls my body against his.  He begins awkwardly pulling at my dress with one hand and I step back and tugged the zipper down then pull it over my head, then take off my tights.

Alex just stands there for several seconds, staring at me.  He does it long enough that I start to feel self-conscious standing there in my bra and underwear.  Finally he says, "You're beautiful.  Get over here and kiss me."

I gladly do, and I shiver as he runs his fingertips lightly down my spine and kisses me again.  He works to unhook my bra with one hand, fumbling like a newbie.  I laugh and say, "I can get it."

"No," he says stubbornly.  "I'm going to do it."  I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but luckily his next try frees the clasp and I shake my bra down my arms and onto the floor.  I nudge him backwards and he takes the hint and walks back until he runs into the bed.  I give him a minute to undress, lay down, and get situated, then climb onto the bed and carefully straddle his hips.  "Why are these still on?" he asks playfully, hooking a finger underneath my underwear and sliding it back and forth across my skin, making me shudder.

"Because I'm not ready to take them off," I reply, taking his hand and using all my willpower to move it away from me.  I lean down and kiss him for several seconds as I wrap my hand around him.  He's been hard since we got up here and it doesn't take much to have him panting and squirming.  I give him a short break and move so he can bite and suck on my nipples while he slides his fingers back underneath my underwear. I groan when he makes contact and let him get me close to an orgasm before I once again pull his hand away and slide down the bed.

I go down on him until he finishes, and it doesn't take long.  I wait until his grip on my hair relaxes enough that I can pull the strands free and move back up to lay next to him.  I don't even think he notices that I've moved until I start lightly running my fingertips over his chest and shoulder.  

He groans and clears his throat, then says, "Well."

"Yeah?" I reply, laughing.

"Yeah," he answers.  He shuts his eyes and is quiet for several seconds, then says, "I needed that."

"Oh good, then I guess my work here is done," I say sarcastically.  "I'll just get dressed and--"

"You'll do no such thing," he interrupts.  "I'm keeping you here naked for the rest of the day.  Now get those underwear off and come up here so I can thank you."

I lean up on my elbow and smirk at him.  "You're awfully bossy for someone who only has the use of one arm."

He reaches over, wraps that one arm around my waist, and pulls.  My body falls back against his and I'm stuck.  "If I didn't know better," he says softly near my ear, nipping lightly at my neck every couple words, "I'd think you didn't want sex."

"Mmm, well I'd hate for you to think that," I reply arching my back against him as he slides his hand beneath my underwear again.  "You know me, I just can't let everything be easy."

"I do know you," he agrees.  "And you don't let anything be easy.  But I do wish you'd take these off and come up here, because I miss the way you taste."  That was all it took for me to quit being a pain in the ass, and my underwear were off in about 2 seconds.  I carefully positioned my knees on either side of his shoulders and lowered myself to his mouth, gripping his headboard when his tongue slid against my skin.

Alex wasn't lying when he said he was going to keep me naked in his bed for the rest of the day.  We take frequent breaks and I do a vast majority of the work, but we work out some of the serious sexual frustration that has been 5 weeks in the making.  By dinner time, we we're both too dazed and tired to actually make anything, so I go down to the kitchen and come back with two bowls, two spoons, a box of cereal and the milk.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to get out of bed tomorrow," Alex groans, wincing as he works himself slowly into a seated position.  "Have you ever had sex with anyone that needed to take prescription pain meds afterwards just to function?"

"There was this old guy once..." I joke, smirking and cocking an eyebrow at him.

Alex shakes his head.  "You fucked up," he tells me.  "You could have married him, waited for him to die, collected on his life insurance and then started dating me."

"You're a horrible person," I inform him, struggling to keep the grin off my face.  "That's disgusting."

"You started it, babe," he reminds me, winking.

"Why don't people ever joke about men marrying old women for their inheritance and life insurance?" I ask.

"Because men would never stoop so low," he responds haughtily.

"You're really fucking lucky you have broken bones and shit," I tell him.  "I'll refrain from kicking your ass.  I think you're on your own tomorrow though."

"That's fine, I don't need help from you anyway," he replies.  Then I see him eyeing up the cereal box, which is on the other side of me and about 4 feet to his left.  He looks from the box to me and frowns.

"You were saying?" I ask, smirking.  He just laughs and shakes his head.  I hand him the box, then the milk.  Once we're done eating I take the stuff back downstairs then get back in bed with him.  We spend the rest of the evening laying in bed, watching Netflix.

The next morning, I'm washing dishes from breakfast and the night before, feeling much less cooped up than I had for awhile.  I'm putting dishes away when I hear Alex.

"Lauren?" he calls from the living room.  His voice sounds odd.

"What?" I yell back.

"You need to come see this."

I walk into the living room, slightly irritated at the interruption.  My irritation fades as I take the newspaper from him and see a large photo of my former office building on the front page.  I quickly scan the headline.  "Fortune 500 Company's Executives Under Fire in Sexual Harassment Cover Up."  "Shit," I mutter.  My eyes move to the sub-headline.  "Sean Condin Fired Amidst Scrutiny."

Lauren: Power Trip

I thought that I'd be nervous about being back at my old employer, but as I pull into the parking lot I'm as calm as can be.  I check my appearance in my visor mirror briefly, straighten a rogue piece of hair, then turn off my car and get out.  I'm precisely 4 minutes early.

People are starting to trickle out, leaving for the day, and I get a few a curious looks.  I wonder what kind of story Sean concocted to explain my absence.  I wonder if Logan straightened out any rumors, or contributed to them.  I could see it going either way, honestly.

Once inside, I walk straight up to the desk.  Kelly, the admin assistant sitting there, doesn't look surprised to see me so I imagine Sandra informed her I was coming.  "I'm here for an appointment with Sandra," I tell her.

"Okay," she replies placidly.  "I'll let her know you're here.  You can have a seat."  She gives me the smallest of knowing smiles at the end, but I don't return it before sitting down in the door closest to the the wing that houses HR.

I wait for over 10 minutes before Sandra comes out.  "Lauren, you're right on time," she says with an unconvincing smile plastered on her face.

"And you're not," I reply brightly, causing her fake smile to falter.

"Right, I'm sorry about that," she says, recovering quickly.  "I had something else I was finishing up."

I roll my eyes as she turns to lead me back through the twisting HR hallway to her office.  I've not spent much time over here, so the brief feeling of having no idea where we're going causes my confidence to waver slightly.  Luckily, as soon as we're in Sandra's office, it returns.

She motions to me to sit at the small round table that's in the corner of her office.  She collects a stack of paperwork and joins me.  "Did you have any questions before we get started?" Sandra asks me, handing me a pen.

"Yes, actually," I reply.  "I'd like to see the email that was sent from my account, on my behalf."

Sandra's eyes widen slightly, and she considers this.  "Fine," she answers finally.  "Let me print it.  You won't be able to take it with you, but you may look at here in my office."  She goes to her computer, clicks around a bit, and then I hear the printer in the corner come to life.  She returns to the table and hands me the page she printed.

I read over it.  It was definitely sent from my email account and it certainly does request a reduction in my responsibility due to the "overly stressful nature of my current role."  It also includes a request that all communication regarding the change in duties and job description go through Sean, as I'd like him to handle the transition so I can focus on wrapping up some of the projects I'm working on.  That explains why I never heard anything from HR about it, though it still seems strange to me.  Sean is a sneaky, manipulative bastard.

I had the page back to her calmly, even though I'm disgusted.  "Okay, I'm ready to look at the forms I need to sign."

"Great," she says, taking the first form off the stack and glancing at it, then sliding it over to me.  "This form lays out what you'll be receiving from us.  So you'll get the seven months of severance, paid biweekly on Mondays starting next Monday, and also the continued health insurance coverage, through the same 7 month time period."  She pauses and glances at me.  "Do you want to continue contributing to your 401k?"

"Absolutely," I reply.  If they're going to continue to match it, why would I turn down free money?

"So you'll need to check that box about halfway down the page.  That will continue through the seven months as well."  She pauses and waits, but I don't put my pen to the paper.  "Do you have questions?"

"I'm just reading through," I inform her.  She's out of her mind if she thinks I'm going to sign something without reading it.  "Also, I'm not signing anything until I see everything you want me to sign."

I glance up from the page to see her purse her lips briefly.  "Of course," she says, but it sounds forced.  I look back down at the form and then frown.

"All the dates on this form say 2015," I point out, sliding it back to her.

She blinks in surprise and the slightest flush creeps into her cheeks.  "They certainly do," she admits.  She looks at the next form and the pink on her cheeks darkens.  "I'll need a few minutes to fix these," she says, flipping through the other forms.

"That's fine," I say.  "I'd like to use the restroom, anyway."

Sandra directs me to the nearest bathroom, which is in a small alcove a hallway away from the main HR office hallway.  I make my way over there and use the single unisex bathroom then wash my hands.  I inspect myself in the mirror and determine that I did an excellent job picking out my outfit for this meeting.

When I walk out of the bathroom, I'm surprised to find Sean lurking in the hallway.  He looks just as surprised to see me.  The surprise on his face is quickly replaced with a sneer.  "Are you happy now?" he asks bitterly.

"Happy about what?" I ask calmly.

"About your little stunt.  I knew you were a vindictive little bitch."

"And what little stunt is that?" I reply.  I have no idea what he's talking about.

He rolls his eyes.  "Calling HR, ratting me out, landing me in all sorts of hot water.  I should have known you were up to something."

I laugh.  A full on, loud laugh as if he told a joke.  "First of all," I tell him, once I've gotten a hold of myself, "HR called me.  I didn't call HR.  Second of all, that is rich coming from you, considering you had an entire scheme to force me out of my position and into an assistant position.  I haven't quite worked out if your goal was to actually have me as your assistant or to get me to quit, but either way, it was awfully stupid of you to think you could get away with it."

He takes a step towards me and his nostrils flare.  It's not a good look for him.  I don't move, and I continue to gaze at him with a bored look on my face.  "You worthless little bitch," he sneers.  "You'll be happy to know that I'm getting transferred and demoted at best, possibly fired.  So if you're really that attached to your old job, you can take it back without worry that you'll have to look at me every day."

"Okay, Sean.  Thanks for the update!" I tell him cheerfully.  "Good luck to you!"  I slip past him and walk back towards Sandra's office.  I don't look back, but I can practically feel his eyes boring holes into my back as I walk away.  It isn't until I turn the corner that my hands start to shake slightly.  I take a deep breath and collect myself before I re-enter Sandra's office.

She smiles politely at me as I sit back down at the table.  I hope I don't look flustered.  "I've fixed the forms," she informs me.  "I'm so sorry about that."

"It's okay," I reply.  "I know how it goes."

She pushes the first form back to me, then goes through the next form, which is the release from liability.  It's identical to what she emailed me, except the dates are filled in.  I read through it again, then nod.  The next form, which probably should have been the first form, is an official notice of resignation.  The wording is changed slightly so that it says it's a "notification of dissolution of employment relationship."  Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sandra.  Then she gives me the last form, which she tells me is a non-disclosure agreement.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.

"A non-disclosure agreement is a legal document stating that you won't--"

I interrupt.  "I know what a non-disclosure agreement is," I say, slightly irritated.  "But this is the first I've heard of it.  And why, exactly, are you interested in preventing me from disclosing what happened?"

"We don't want anyone to get unnecessarily riled up or upset," she tells me.  "And I'm sure I mentioned it when I told you about the release."

"You didn't," I say shortly.  I read through the agreement, which lays out very carefully, in great detail, that I cannot tell anyone in the entire world--including the Pope and Jesus and the Queen of England--the details of the dissolution of our employment relationship.  Too bad I've already told several people.  She can't possibly believe that no one knows.  "I'm not signing this," I tell her.  It explains her annoyance at me refusing to sign any of the other paperwork before seeing everything.

"It's a required document," she informs me.  "The rest of the deal is void without it."

"Then I guess the rest of the deal is void," I say.  There is no way I'm signing this document that she tried to sneak in here.  I start to gather my things and put on my coat.  I wasn't planning on suing before, because my need to make a point wasn't that strong.  Now it is.  "I imagine you'll be hearing from my attorney by the end of the week."  This time I'm not bluffing.  I'm already mentally composing a text to Evan to ask him for the contact information for the employment attorney he mentioned.

Sandra lets me get my coat on and get to the door.  I turn before I leave and say, "I ran into Sean when I came out of the bathroom.  We had an interesting chat.  Tell him I said good luck."  Then I put my hand on the knob and turn it.

I barely have the door open an inch when Sandra says, "Wait.  I'm sure we can work something out."  I turn back with one eyebrow raised skeptically.  I wait silently for her to say more.  "There's a chair outside my office," she goes on hurriedly.  "Can you have a seat while I speak to our attorney?"  I nod curtly and exit the office, shutting the door behind me.

As I sit down in the uncomfortable chair outside Sandra's office, I feel a rush of adrenaline.  I shouldn't be getting so much pleasure from this interaction, but I am.  I'm kind of in awe of my ability to negotiate with this powerful woman.  It's awesome.  Maybe I really am in the wrong business.

I wait for just a couple minutes before the door opens and Sandra steps out.  "Come on in, Lauren.  Sorry about that."

I walk in without saying anything and sit back down in my seat at the table.  Sandra sits across from me.  "Will you sign a revised non-disclosure agreement that only restricts you from speaking to the media?"

The media?  Is this woman for real?  I wonder what the fuck is actually going on here.  I pause long enough to make her squirm.  "I'd like to read it," I tell her.  She hands it over and I read through.  True to her word, from what I can tell, this agreement only limits me (or anyone acting under my direction) from speaking to the media regarding the details of the dissolution of our employment relationship.  "I will sign this," I tell her.  I have no desire to talk to the media.  Actually, that's not entirely true.  I had no desire to talk to the media until she told me I can't.  Now I have a very strong desire to do so, but I know I don't want anything to do with the circus that would ensue.

The relief on Sandra's face is clear.  I re-read all the forms to make sure she didn't sneakily try to change anything, then sign, initial, and check the right boxes.  It's well after 5 by the time I leave with my copy of the forms I've signed.

I'm giddy with the excitement of the power I wielded today and I don't even notice Logan until he says my name.  He's leaning against the passenger side of my car.  "I thought this was your car," he  says.  "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, have I got a story for you," I tell him, grinning.  It's a good thing I didn't sign that original non-disclosure agreement.  Still high on my power trip, I start to tell him everything that just went down.