looking for a one-night stand?”
Yeah, kind of. But that didn’t exactly work with the false pretense of why we were hanging out. “Get rid of all that crap. And take down my picture too. I don’t want people to say yes to a date with me because they know who I am.”
“I think the picture might be required.”
I snapped a photo of the tea that I hadn’t even tried and handed her phone back to her. “Just use that picture.”
“You want a photo of cold tea to be your profile picture on your dating profile?” She shook her head.
“And tell them that I’m poor.”
“That’s just lying.”
“It’s all about low expectations, Penny.”
“Why? Wouldn’t you rather a girl be super nervous and excited to go on a date with you? Looking forward to something is pretty great.” She immediately looked back down at her phone. And I swore she was blinking a little faster. “You know what? I’m just going to find you someone and let you know when your first date is.”
Well, that sounded terrible. But I was a little more concerned about the fact that it looked like I’d almost made her cry.
“Ian just pulled up. See you for the Giants game?”
I didn’t exactly feel like hanging out with everyone tonight. I shook my head.
But I wasn’t sure she’d seen because she was already walking toward the door. “Bye, Matt,” she said without looking back.
Great. I ran my hand down my face. Penny was setting me up with someone I couldn’t even veto now. And I’d made her cry.
Chapter 11
Monday
“Here you go,” said my administrative assistant as she placed a hot cup of coffee down on my desk.
“Thanks, Mary.” I’d come back to the office after football practice to get some more work done. And I desperately needed some caffeine.
“Your mother left another message about getting together with you for lunch. What do you want me to say to her?”
My mom always bugged my assistant when I didn’t answer her texts. She got overly concerned about me every fall. And I tried my best to avoid her until the holidays. I didn’t want to talk about Brooklyn. I just wanted peace. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call her.” Eventually.
“Okay. Is there anything else I can get you before I head out?”
I looked down at my watch. I hadn’t realized it was after six. “No, have a nice evening.”
She didn’t move to leave. “You know, I heard a rumor the other day. It was something about…” She lightly tapped her chin and pretended like she was trying to remember something. “Oh, right. Sleep is actually really important. Who would have thought?”
I laughed. “Mary, I’ve been sleeping.”
“Tell your face that. And you forgot to change after practice.”
I scowled at her, but only in jest. I usually did change back into a suit after practice. But over the last few weeks, I’d stopped. No one else was here this late anyway.
“Maybe try some chamomile tea.”
What was with women forcing me to drink tea? But I didn’t know how to say no to her. “I’ll give it a try.” Penny may have left some of that.
“You have a good evening, Matthew.”
I’d been telling her for years to call me Matt. But she refused. She said businessmen didn’t have nicknames. It was the only thing we ever bickered about. Mary was the best administrative assistant ever. And even though she did flirt with me sometimes, it was all in fun. Because she was 67. She kept threatening to retire, so I kept raising her salary. Soon she’d be making more than most of upper management. But they didn’t need to know that.
Mary closed the door behind her as I stared at another set of spreadsheets. The lines kept blurring together. I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned back in my chair. I was exhausted. Mary was right, I’d barely slept at all last night. All I could think about was Penny’s face when she’d left. Why did she always seem so sad recently? How could I make it better?
There was a knock on the door.
“Really, Mary, I’m fine,” I said.
The door opened. But it wasn’t Mary standing there.
I immediately stood up. “Poppy.” I hadn’t seen her in years. But she hadn’t changed at all. Probably because her face was more Botox than skin. It was like seeing another ghost. But not a sweet innocent one like Brooklyn. Poppy was almost the spitting image of her cousin, Isabella. The brunette hair. The way she