Except for the part where I kissed my assistant, and now I can’t get her out of my head.
17
Margot
Few things are more awkward than standing there with a forced smile while your coworkers crowd around a sheet cake and sing an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
Well, one thing is more awkward: obsessing about a kiss with your boss after he’s probably forgotten all about it.
And that’s not all he’s forgotten.
Ethan has seemingly spaced on my birthday. There was no card on my desk from him this morning when I arrived at the office. No gift card to the coffee shop on the corner, his typical go-to for employees. Not even a quick birthday wish as he passed my desk. Just a casual ‘good morning’ uttered beneath his breath with his phone pressed to his ear.
At first, it was kind of funny. Ethan remembered my birthday just fine earlier this week. It falls on a Saturday this year, making today my unofficial work birthday. But as the day drags on, his lack of attention to the matter is starting to feel less like an oversight and more like a jab. Maybe if I weren’t in the middle of a full-blown pity party over spending my birthday alone this year, Ethan’s lapse in memory wouldn’t feel like such a big deal.
I’ve had the same birthday tradition ever since I was a kid. It started on my fifth birthday with a bad morning, a burnt cake, and one of my mother’s most epic breakdowns. Perfectionism may have run in her veins, but it didn’t stand a chance against the six kids running through her house.
With my mom in tears and my grandma on the way over to help, my dad asked if I wanted to escape for a while. We ended up at Enchanted Kingdom, a small fantasy-themed amusement park twenty minutes from our house. By the end of the afternoon, high off churros and adrenaline, I begged my dad to come back next year. Thus, a birthday tradition was born.
Every year after, we spent my birthday at an amusement park. It was just me and my dad most of the time, but occasionally one of my siblings would tag along.
When I moved to Boulder for college and met Jeremy, he took over. We went to small, local parks most years, but he planned a special trip to Disneyland for my twenty-first.
We were planning to go to Summit Springs Adventure Park just outside of Denver this year, but I obviously won’t be going anywhere with my cheating ex. With Emma out of town, I’m left with two options: go alone or break tradition. I’m leaning towards the latter.
“Blow, Margot!” a voice says, dragging me back to the present.
Two dozen pairs of eyes are on me, making me wince and wither at the unwanted attention.
“Make a wish!” someone else yells.
Oh, right… the birthday cake. Pulling my hair back with one hand, I lean forward and blow out the candles while making the most inappropriate wish imaginable:Another kiss from Ethan. Just one more. That’s all I need.
Sure, I’m mad at him right now, but a kiss might help me forget that.
After thanking everyone, I grab two plates of cake and make a hasty escape back to the tenth floor, where I aggressively plop a plate down on Ethan’s desk. He creases his brow, glancing at the piece of cake then up at me. A frown begins to form on his lips.
Finally. The only person in this entire building who I actually count as a friend hasfinallyremembered my birthday. And it’s only—I glance at the clock on Ethan’s computer—2:58 in the afternoon.
I brace myself to graciously accept his birthday wishes, along with his sincerest apologies.
“Is this from the Save-Away?” Ethan asks, casting a disapproving look at the slice of chocolate cake.
“I don’t know,” I grit out, narrowing my eyes at him.
He shakes his head. “Why do people in this office insist on buying cakes from the grocery store when there’s an amazing family-owned bakery right down the street?”
Unbelievable.
A smile no one would ever mistake as friendly flashes across my face. My voice drips with syrupy sweet venom when I ask him, “Would you like me to throw it out for you?”
I’m not the sort of assistant that fetches Ethan’s coffee or lunch or dry cleaning for him. I’m also not the sort of assistant that cleans up after him. Perhaps I can use that as an excuse when I “accidentally” miss the garbage can and drop this slice of cake right on top of Ethan’s head.
He can’t fire me on my birthday. Of course, that hinges on him actually remembering that it’s my fucking birthday in the first place.
“No, just leave it,” Ethan says casually. “I might have a few bites.”
“Great,” I snap.