Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,55
good. I feel good overall.”
“I’m glad.” His smile goes from toothy to lips only. Even after seeing him beam every day this past week and a half, I still can’t decide which one I adore more. Both slay me. Even more so now that he’s doing it in my office.
“Thank you. For everything.” I remember I haven’t thanked him in person for the mango delivery. I’ve seen him almost every day since, yet not a word. What horrible manners I have. “Especially the mangoes. And the pineapple and coconut. That was . . . I don’t even . . .”
For someone whose profession is to formulate words forty hours a week, I’m doing a dismal job of articulating myself. Flustered, I rub the back of my neck.
“They’re all I’ve been eating. Sorry, I forgot to say that on the days you came over.”
He breaks eye contact with me to stare at the floor. He shuffles his feet and meets my eyes once again before lowering himself to the chair in the corner. “I hoped you’d like them.”
We stare at each other in silence for the next few seconds. This is the first time we’ve spoken under this roof with zero animosity tumbling between us. Before we can say anything else, there’s a muffled thud from inside Will’s office. Our heads twist in his direction.
“Ow, ow, goddamn it!” Will shouts.
We burst out in laughter at the exact same moment. I clutch my abdomen, whispering, “Ouch!” between breaths. Cackling this hard kills, but it’s worth it. I’m finally laughing at work with Tate. He’s looking at me with affection in his eyes. There’s a soft burst in my chest. It’s my own affection for him.
He catches his breath. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just very sore still.” I wince. “Laughing is surprisingly painful when you’ve had surgery on your lower abdomen.”
“I’m supposed to forward you an email about a new line of chain saws, but maybe I shouldn’t. The cutting, the sharpness. That could bring on some terrible flashbacks for you.”
The fake worry on his face sends me into a fit of painful giggles.
“Shit, sorry,” he says a moment before Will bursts out of his office.
“Oh, Emmie! How are you? We were worried about you.” Will wrings his right hand as he walks toward me.
“I’m fine, thanks. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I was trying to take some photos of those Star Wars figures I’ve been meaning to sell online for ages, and I accidentally dropped a box of them on my hand.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t think my stomach can handle another cackle.
Tate sits silently while Will asks me questions about my hospital stay, then I ask him about his toy sale on eBay.
“It could be great side money for me,” Will says. “Loads of people love Star Wars. Who knows how much they’ll pay for vintage toys.”
I chuckle along with Will. After a week and a half away, I’ve missed his antics. I nod while listening to Will and peek at Tate pursing his lips, failing miserably to keep the wide grin off his face. There’s nothing overly funny in this moment. Will is just being Will, but there’s something lighthearted, something giddy in the air. It’s clearly having an effect on the two of us.
“My cousin made a killing selling one of his. What was it? Not Chewbacca . . .” Will says, gazing at the ceiling deep in thought.
I shoot a playful helpless stare at Tate. I need him to keep a straight face if I have any hope of doing the same. Otherwise, I’m going to bust an incision. I point at my stomach and make a sad face. He takes a breath. In no time his neutral face is back. He winks at me before turning his focus to Will. A breath catches in my throat; my heart pauses before resuming its regular beat. I had no idea Tate could be this playful at work. I can barely take how much I adore it.
Will’s phone rings, and he darts to his office to answer it.
“Your trying-not-to-laugh face is incredible. I thought I was going to rupture one of my incisions.” I shoot him the first nonserious glare I’ve ever given him.
“I guess I’ll have to practice that one more. Excuse me for a sec.”
His hoodie-clad shoulders take up a good chunk of the open doorframe as he walks out of my office and in the direction of the men’s bathroom.
A minute later, a teddy bear the