Ruth's POV
"Want some pizza?" Shy tried again, propping herself up onto her elbows on the couch.
"No thanks," I replied, keeping my eyes on my laptop screen. This was the third time she was offering me food in the last 30 minutes, and even though her offers got more and more appealing each time, my answer remained the same.
"Let me make you some pasta. Been so long since we had that."
"Not in the mood to risk your cooking, Shy."
I took a moment to raise my brow at her, letting her know that it was a joke, before going back to work.
I wasn't joking though. Even though Shy possessed many remarkable skills, cooking wasn't one of them.
She rolled her eyes, before rolling off the couch altogether, putting her fists on her hips.
"I can't stand this stressful vibe, Ruth. Its almost suffocating me now. You've got to talk, or snap the hell out of it."
I exhaled, and closed the lid of my laptop. And this was why I both liked, and hated Shy sometimes. She was so attuned to my emotions that even without me saying anything, most days she just sensed something was wrong with me.
She called it intuition, and I called it her habit of prying.
"What are you talking about? I'm absolutely fine."
"No, you're not fine. You've not been fine since you returned from Boston."
"Of course I wasn't fine. Did you forget verbal reprimand I received from my parents the very day I came back?"
It was partly true. The day I had come back from Boston, my parents had made a rare appearance at our home here, instead of summoning me there like they usually did.
At first I had thought it was a good thing, to have them here and away from the temptation of showing off to my aunts just how much control they still had over their daughter.
But soon enough I learnt that it was way worse as they felt absolutely no need to even be civil about telling me exactly what they thought of my behavior.
Shy sighed, no doubt remembering my breakdown after they had left, but sadly wasn't distracted from the topic at hand.
"Admit it, Ruth. Your melancholy has nothing to do with your parents, and everything to do with your boss."
"Ex-boss," I corrected her, without thinking, then closed my eyes in defeat.
"So you know who I'm talking about. Are you gonna admit that you miss him?"
I did miss him. More than I probably should. It had been 3 days since Tristan had 'replaced' him, and I was still wrapping my head around that. Just the thought of not getting to see Caleb again was driving me crazy, and squeezing my heart inside. But none of that meant that I was admitting anything.
"I barely knew him to miss him, Shy," I replied, but even I could hear longing in my voice.
Even though I had been working with him for barely a month or more, he had seemed to somehow imprint himself on everything. The smallest of things, like a spiral notepad or sticky notes stuck at the side of my desktop reminded me of him.
It felt like I was reaching some breaking point, and no matter how much I fought it off, it won't go away. I rubbed my face with my hands, before looking up at Shy again.
"It will pass. Mark my words, it will. And soon, I won't even remember what he looked like, or how it felt when he looked at me with mischief in his eyes. Or how my insides flip-flopped when he would give me one of those smiles reserved only for me. Or how reckless he made me wanna be. Or how it felt to kiss and touch him, or how he—" I stopped as I registered Shy's expression.
The frustration and determination from a minute ago was replaced by dread and concern as she looked at me.
"Ruth, honey you.. you sound like you're in—"
"Don't," I stood up abruptly, dropping my laptop onto the carpet with a muted thud.
"But Ruth, you shouldn't—"
"I said, don't. Not everything needs to be psycho-analyzed Shy. Just leave it be, okay?"
I picked up my laptop in a jerky motion, before marching into the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind me.
****
Two days later, I knocked on the cabin door, paused for a beat before entering.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Andrews?"
Watching Tristan sit in the chair that Caleb once used was oddly unsettling. Even the way he called me "Ms. Brooke" sounded wrong. Wrong voice, wrong style, wrong man.
"Ah, yes. Please have a seat, Ms. Brooke. There's something I need to talk to you about."
He smiled at me, probably trying to put me at ease, but all his expression managed to do was alarm me. It had been 5 days since Tristan had assumed the role of my new boss, and to be honest, he wasn't all that bad to work with.
He talked less, gave me as much work to do as I could handle, set a deadline, and then left me alone. Ideally, he was my definition of a perfect boss. But still, I couldn't relax around him. There was just something about him that didn't sit well with me, even though logically, he never did anything to earn my wariness.
Usually, I signed it off as my personal feelings towards him taking Caleb's place in the office, but as I sat in front of him now, watching a calculating look sweep onto his face, I knew whatever he was going to tell, wasn't going to be good for me.
"Ms. Brooke.... well, Ruth. Can I be honest with you?"
At my nod, he continued, "When I met you in Boston, well, I had heard all sorts of things about you and your work ethics, as you can probably guess."
He paused, raising his brow and I was reminded again, exactly what Callahan Cross had thought about me and my work ethics.
"And I have to admit, when I came here, I had already made my assumptions about what to expect from you. But when I saw all the work you had put in for the last 2 weeks, and personally observing you for a whole week, I have to admit that I was wrong."
"I want you to know that, personally, I think that you're an honest, hardworking employee, who is rare to come by, and is greatly valued in this company. Are you getting me?"
He paused again, as if waiting for me to reply. I swallowed the nervousness bubbling up in my stomach, and purposely kept my voice light.
"Well, thank you, Mr. Andrews, but you're not saying all this because I'm fired or something, right?"
Tristan laughed, a deep, smokey sound, and right then I could see how a beautiful girl like Ana might have fallen for a man nearly a decade older than her.
"No, Ruth. Of course not. If you were going to get fired, I'd have done it within 2 minutes of you stepping foot into the cabin. As you must've already guessed, I'm not a sugar coating kind of person."
Even though I smiled back at him, the nerves curling in my stomach didn't ease up.
After a beat, he continued, "On the contrary, I was about to offer you a promotion."
Wait, what?
"As you're already aware, after a takeover, it is normal to make changes so things work our way. And sometimes, that does include laying off the employees."
"Even though there have been certain suggestions - well, demands, really - of shifting you to other department, I feel you will thrive where you're already familiar with the work, rather than have you start fresh at a new department."
"Now, I know you're great at being an office assistant, but what we need now is an office manager. So, what do you say, Ms. Brooke?"
He paused again as I listened to him, stunned. It felt like I was in a dream. I had always wanted to earn this promotion.
That was primarily the reason why I had never applied for the job. Even though some people would call it stupid, I had wanted to get this position without asking for it. And it looked like it was finally happening.
"Ms. Brooke... Ruth?" Tristan prompted, momentarily pulling me out of my dream-like state. Even though my insides were jumping around everywhere, I swallowed hard and focused on replying, "t-thank you Mr. Andrews, I'd be honoured to."
Standing up from his chair, he shook my hand in congratulations and said, "please, Ruth. Call me Tristan."
***
"Your to-go, Ruth," Hannah smiled, and placed the coffee beside me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Thanks Hannah," I smiled at her distractedly, and picked up the cup before walking out. It was lunch time now, but my conversation with Tristan from this morning still played in my mind.
Usually, I just went to the office canteen for lunch, but today I figured some change of scenery would help me focus better. No such luck. Especially since Tristan had requested me to not share the news of my promotion with anyone yet.
*
"Why not?" I asked, confused
"For one, the other employees here doesn't seem too happy with you right now."
He looked at me meaningfully and I suddenly knew why.
"They are wrong to blame you for the takeover, of course. But as the things stand, I dont want them to assume any worse of you than they already do. Besides," he paused again, leaning back in his chair.
"There's an important board meeting coming up next week. You should focus on preparing for that."
"The Board meeting, sir?"
I frowned in confusion. An office assistant - or even a manager - didn't always attend them unless there was something specific that needed their presence.
"Yes, the Board meeting, Ms. Brooke. There's something on my agenda that would require your presence. Nothing major, you'll know when and if the need arises. And if it doesn't, then we can use the opportunity to announce your promotion officially."
*
A car honked, bringing me back to the present. Even now, when I have had time to digest the news it still felt too good to be true. Or maybe just, too good to be happening to me.
Crossing the road carefully, I walked up to the building, lost in the thoughts again. For some reason, the news of my much-awaited promotion didn't bring me as much joy as I had thought it would.
The mid-December breeze made me shiver, and I held my coffee closer to me with one hand, while tightening my overcoat with the other.
Unbidden, Caleb's warm eyes from the night of bonfire flashed in my mind as he had wrapped a thick overcoat over my shoulders.
I clenched my eyes shut, trying to dispel the image as yet another ordinary action reminded me of him.
Exhaling, I entered the building, only to run smack into a hard body. The coffee in my hand spilled over the front of my coat, soaking through quickly and reaching my off-white dress shirt and skin.
"Damnit! Can't you watch whe—"
I cut off mid-sentence as I looked up, registering a familiar set of dark eyes and black silk shirt a minute too late.
"Caleb?"
"Good afternoon, Ruth. Missed me?"