Coming Back (The Sarah Kinsely Story - Book #2) (6 page)

Angela dropped her box salad on the ground, her mouth wide open, her eyes wide open.

“Why? Wait — what — with who — when? What's going on here? What did I miss?”

I wasn’t sure if she was acting, excited to have uncovered gossip, or truly confused by what had come out of my mouth.

“You know what I am talking about; Lizzy and Aiden. You guys set me up.”

“Well yeah, of course we did. We thought you two were a cute couple.”

Did she really not know? Was she just some girl Lizzy and Peyton dragged around for fun?

“No, that isn’t what I mean. I mean Lizzy is sleeping with Aiden,” I shook my head, “I mean they have always been together. Peyton and Lizzy set me up with Aiden as some sort of cruel joke. A hazing or something.”

Angela brought both hands up, her palms facing toward me in a defensive gesture. Her skin looked more pale than before and she said nothing. I looked her over trying to find any hint that she might be acting. If she was, she should have quit her job at Abraams and Snider and headed down to Hollywood.

“You mean, you honestly have no idea what I'm talking about?” I asked.

She shook her head slowly, a worried look on her face.

“Honestly,” Angela said, “I have no idea what you're talking about. It was a last-minute thing for me. I wasn't even gonna go that weekend, but Peyton said I had to because you were gonna be there, and she wanted to make you feel welcome or something like that. That's all I know. Everything else is news to me. I swear.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, a pleading look in her eyes.

I didn't know what to believe. I wanted to believe Angela, I really did. Of the three girls, she had been the most levelheaded, the most soft-spoken, and in retrospect, as I spent that week replaying all the events in my mind, she never did seem to fit into the evil plan I had conjured up in my mind.

Maybe I was being too soft, maybe I was being too trusting, and maybe I just wanted a friend too badly, but I decided to believe her.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay what?”

Angela looked like she was about to cry.

“Okay, I'll go to the office party with you.”

Chapter 10

It felt strange to be at work in the evening, dressed in my nicest black skirt, sipping champagne and mingling with coworkers. I still wasn’t sure how Angela had convinced me to come, but I was here now and there was no turning back.

Without the pressures of deadlines, Lizzy lurking in the background, and Peyton looming over my head, I found that I actually liked my officemates quite a bit.

This was new for me.

I had never really enjoyed office parties back in New York, but this one just had a different vibe. It felt more relaxed. It felt more like — family. There was no pressure to be “copywriter Sarah”; I was just myself, I was just having a good time.

A half an hour into it, Angela arrived as promised. She was wearing a dark blue knee length that twirled around her legs with each step she took. I told her she looked great and she told me that she had sewed the dress herself. I was impressed.

She took me by the arm, asked how I was doing, and escorted me to some of her workmates in the accounts department. We said the usual cordial hellos, and I struck up casual conversation.

I never let my gaze wander far from Angela, I watched her every move that night, still unsure where her loyalty laid. Watching her interact with her fellow coworkers allowed me to see her in her natural habitat, unfettered by Lizzy or Peyton’s influence.

At some point during the evening I heard a drunken shout from the crowd of people for karaoke to begin. A few short minutes later, someone, probably drunk, began belting out 80s tunes in a disturbingly off key tone of voice. To be completely honest, had I not looked for myself, I wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was a man or woman.

Now it felt like a real office party.

“I am going to get in line,” Angela said and took off running to make a fool of herself on stage.

I waved her on and made my way to the refreshments table. A comfortable spot to hide.

For the first time since I had started at Abraams and Snider I felt like I belonged, even if it was as the wallflower. I felt tension leave my shoulders and realized that I was beginning to relax, to settle in, to find my place.

Call it a moment of mindfulness, call it a moment of introspection, call it whatever you want, but standing there, sipping champagne at a company party that I actually enjoyed filled me with a deep sense of gratitude for the things that I did have.

I
did
have a good job. I
did
have a great house in a dream neighborhood. I
did
have at least a few people that I knew I could talk to, even if it was on a superficial level.

I wasn’t completely alone.

Sure, Aiden had been a terrible mistake, Peyton and Lizzy were probably going to pop out of the rafters and dowse me in putrid slime before the night was through, but none of this was any different than what I went through in high school, not really, and I had survived that just fine.

I was going to be OK.

Just as I was considering picking up the mic and singing a half drunk tune of my own, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned around.

My face dropped, my elbows nearly fell to the floor and the tension returned to my shoulders.

"Hi Sarah."

Angela had promised that
he
wasn't going to be here. I didn't say anything, I didn’t move, I didn’t think.

"I hope you're enjoying the little party."

Brandon pulled a glass of champagne off the drink table next to me and took a sip. He swirled his glass around, looked at it as if he was studying its contents, and shrugged his shoulders.

“We probably could have done better."

I hoped that he was referring to the drink and not to that giant disaster of a night we had shared. I didn’t want to talk about it and that was no way to begin the conversation anyways. I desperately looked around for Angela. I needed her to come save me, she was the one who had assured me that Brandon wasn’t going to be there.

"You look very nice," he said looking down at my legs.

The short skirt had been a mistake.

“I didn't realize you were gonna be here," I said.

"Yeah, clients love canceling last minute on me. I just got back from Chicago and since I had the free time I thought I would stop by and see how everyone is doing."

For having just come from Chicago he looked awfully fresh. His navy blue suit was neatly pressed, his hair slicked back and his Rolex as glistening as ever. As awkward and uncomfortable as our mini-make-out session had been, I had to admit he knew how to dress for a party.

He touched my shoulder lightly. A chill passed over me like he had just touched me with ice.

For a moment I thought that the party had stopped. I could no longer hear the music. There was only a muffled ringing in my ears and dryness in my mouth.

I pulled my arm back. Brandon's eyebrows furrowed. I didn't want to make a scene. Whatever I had been branded since my falling out with Peyton and Lizzy by my coworkers, a confrontation with
the
Snider of Abraams and Snider at my very first office party would have been headline gossip. I would have quickly become known as “that crazy lady”, and nobody wants to be "that crazy lady".

It would have ruined my career.

I knew he didn't want confrontation either. Partners have a certain reputation to uphold and having the new copywriter flipping out on you in front of all your employees was trouble he didn’t want. Instead, he looked over his shoulder, scanned the room, found someone he could talk to and left as suddenly as he had appeared. I rubbed my hand over the spot where he had touched my arm. It still felt cold.

Standing alone by the drinks I was reminded of the first time I had been stood up by a boy. It was my second middle school dance and he had promised to kiss me.

He never came.

I found myself reliving that moment, those same feelings of wanting to run away, wanting to stick it out for the entire night — just in case. Tears began to well up in my eyes but I fought them back, just like I did at that middle school dance so many years ago, casting fake smiles to whoever might catch me in their gaze.

I felt ridiculous, I probably looked ridiculous, and I was ready to go home.

I spent a moment conjuring up an excuse to tell Angela as to why I
had
to leave.

I never did get the chance to tell her my made up excuse that night. Whatever creative lie I had come up with to get me out that front door was going to have to stay locked away in my brain because the karaoke had started again.

This time, instead of an 80s rock song, it was a cheesy 90s love ballad that floated through the air. Instead of the drunken moans of a coworker, a deep, rich baritone sang on through the mic. A voice that was clear. A voice that was confident.

A voice that I recognized.

Chapter 11

I recognized that voice in a way that one recognizes gradeschool bullies fifteen years after the fact.

I almost dropped my champagne glass but had the composure to set it down gently on the table. It was the same voice that had reverberated throughout my house just days prior as I was alone, watching Netflix movies, trying to forget the man to whom that voice belonged.

The voice didn't sound drunk, instead it sounded soft, smooth and clear. I probably don't even need to recount the numerous thoughts that went through my head. The thoughts of fear, anger, embarrassment and the increasing desire to get the hell out of there. My one and only driving desire at that point was to run, to run as far as I possibly could.

I was in panic mode and my feet did the deciding for me. I headed towards the bathroom, pulling out my cell phone as I entered desperately texting Angela to help me get out of there, asking why she didn't tell me that Aiden was going to be there. I even considered sending a text just simply getting mad at her and even considered that she had been a part of this whole setup. But then I thought back to our conversation and put it aside, she just didn't seem the type to be so conniving and bitchy.

Someone else had invited him.

But who?

I locked myself inside a stall, nearly dizzy from the thoughts spinning around in my head, desperately trying to come up with a plan to escape with some class without permanently ruining my chances of harmony at work.

Then the music stopped.

I waited, hoping that the microphone would be picked up by some other drunk desperately wanting to relive the 80s.

Instead, sitting alone in the bathroom, locked in a stall, I heard Aiden’s voice echo through the building.

"Sarah, I know you're here. I miss you."

I buried my head in my hands. Now, the entire office new that something was up. My attempts at avoiding the label "that crazy girl" had now flown out the window. I felt like throwing up, and I no longer had the strength to fight back the tears. I simply let them stream down my face.

When I thought the night couldn't get any worse, Aiden continued.

"Many of you don't know me, as a matter of fact maybe less than a handful of you know me. My name is Aiden and I'm looking for a girl named Sarah Kinsley. I know she works here, but I'm crazy about her. If you see her, please let me know. I'll be here for a few minutes, I'm sorry to have crashed your party like this."

I heard a girl who had been washing her hands let out an “
aww
”. I wanted to reach over the stall, grab her by the hair and shake her all the while screaming "you don't know who he is, don't fall into his trap!"

While I was fantasizing about "educating" the girl who seemed to swoon over the voice of the man she knew nothing about, Angela texted back.

Oh God. Sarah, I am so sorry. Where are you?

I told Angela that I was in the bathroom and that I wasn't coming out. She texted back that she would come get me and that I could make a covert escape while she distracted Aiden. I really didn't have any choice and so I texted back an “OK”.

Seconds later Angela was knocking on my stall door. I wiped away my tears with my hands, she help me to wash my face of the mascara that was now running down my cheeks, and together we walked out the door, arm in arm.

I was looking down at my shoes, when we exited the bathroom, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, when I suddenly felt Angela stop.

I dared not look up, for fear of what, or who, I might see.

Chapter 12

I knew, that if I looked up I would see the eyes of all 180 employees of Abraams and Snider staring at me, judging me, whispering to one another about "that crazy girl". I kept my eyes on the floor, refusing to look up, as Angela tugged on my arm and whispered something I didn't understand in my ear. It wasn't until
he
spoke that I realized just how bad the situation had become.