How to Bake the Perfect Wedding Cake (10 page)

Jack rushes in after me. “Lauren, are you okay?” His voice is full of concern. I can’t breathe. I’m hovering over the toilet with Jack in the background obviously worried about me. I can’t have him thinking I have panic attacks. I’ve got to excuse this as something else. Would it matter to him if he knew I had panic attacks? Is that what’s happening now? I wipe my mouth with tissue and stand up. Fainting the other day was just a small moment… I didn’t go into a full-on panic attack. I’ve got to get past this. I do not want to be crippled again by my anxiety issues.

“I’m fine. I must have some sort of food poisoning or something… How are you feeling?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

His eyebrows push together. “I’m fine. Lauren, I’d like to take you to the hospital and get you checked out.”

I jerk my head back. Does he think I’m not stable? What? “Jack, I’m fine. I really have to get to work. I have a lot on my plate.” I lean over the sink and rinse out my mouth with the mouthwash, hoping this will clear the nasty taste of stomach bile.

“Your plate is overflowing into the toilet. I’m concerned. Let me take you to the hospital and make sure you’re okay.” He brushes his hand across my back. It’s warm and full of love but I’m worried. What if Jack finds out that I don’t have it together? That I faint or have panic attacks when my stress levels get too high? Will he not want to be with me? My chest tightens.

“I’m really fine.” I struggle to find the words. Do I tell him? That I have anxiety issues and have had panic attacks before? Will this help him not to worry about me? Or will this worsen the situation?

Jack sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He walks out of the bathroom and I’m alone.
All alone
. And I’m sicker than I was when he was in the bathroom with me. I lean over the toilet but nothing comes out. I’m empty. I have nothing left in me and I feel like I’m losing everything with Jack not being near me. Am I being a fool not to share what is going on with me? I’m so afraid. I don’t want him to see me at my weakest moment. This point of fragility and feeling so full of insecurity and fault. I can’t imagine him wanting to continue on with someone who obviously doesn’t have her act together. I swallow hard but nothing clears the lump in the back of my throat.

I make my way into the kitchen. Jack is ironing his shirt. My kitchen is not exactly large and with the ironing board in between the island and counters it makes navigating difficult to say the least. This is Jack’s thing, however. He irons his shirts every morning before work. It irks me. I don’t understand why he can’t find a less busy area to iron. The kitchen? At breakfast? Does this make sense in the least? Why not our living room or even the garage? There are outlets there. I slow my breathing. I’m trying to be cool. And inviting. Welcoming and accepting. I want him to be as comfortable here as I am. This place is supposed to be for both of us…until we move into the new house. I bite my inner cheek. He takes the shirt and puts it on his large frame. One by one he fastens the buttons and I’m reminded that relationships take steps and fastenings to make them work. I need to be more tolerant about Jack being in my space and more mindful of our steps.

Jack glances over at me with a wide grin. “Lauren, we don’t have time.”

I let out a laugh. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Yeah right. You were undressing me with your eyes while I’m trying to button myself up for work.”

I take a step towards him and twist on one of the buttons on his shirt. “You might give the impression that you wouldn’t be interested but I know one word and you would be back in the bedroom.” I point at his chest.

Jack grabs on to my finger and reaches up farther to hold my hand. “Lauren, I don’t ever give the impression that I’m not interested.” He kisses my hand. “And, further, you don’t have to say a word. I know what you want without a sound from your mouth. Though the soft moan that catches in the back of your throat is always encouraging.” He leans in and lays a kiss against my neck that is a mix between licks and nibbles. “Remember that while you are at work today.” He slaps my behind and grabs his briefcase. He glances back at me and gives me a wink that further sends me over. I’m semi-glad he has left so that I can fully swoon without letting him see me. He affects me in so many ways and now I’m all hot and bothered and I have to settle down so that I can face the day and not act like a hormone-filled teenager.

I have to simmer myself down and focus on work. There is so much to figure out and to fix. I have to tackle my slacking numbers and figure out how to instill confidence in my team members. I also need to keep my breakfast in my stomach, but that’s another matter.

***

I’ve scheduled a team meeting in conference room B at 9:00 a.m. Everyone gathers in and I greet them good morning. “Thanks for being on time. Let’s get started. We have a lot of work to do. I know we’re a new team but we don’t have the luxury of a grace period. Our numbers have not been great and we are showing up as the lowest performing team.”

I pass out papers with everyone’s numbers on them, which I have highlighted. “Why do you think other teams are outperforming us?”

“Maybe because Trent is always on cue passing out accounts for his team to contact?” Bethany offers with a shrug.

I raise my eyebrows, surprised. “Really? How do you know this?”

“One of my friends is on his team. Says he assigns them like five accounts each hour.”

“Interesting. Okay, anyone else?”

“I know Trent shadows each of his team members one day a week.” Marcus nods.

“Well, all right so Trent’s got some great methods, I see.”

“Yeah, too bad he is such a creep.” Bethany laughs.

Marcus nods his head and there’s a round of agreement from the other members of my team.

I try to hide a smirk. I can’t be seen to be badmouthing another manager—even if it is Trent. “Okay, well let’s see if we can do something similar. Starting today I’ll shadow each of your for one hour. And I want you to find time to shadow each other too. I’m sure we can each pick up on something just by listening.” I stand up. “Let’s end the week on a strong note.”

Everyone nods and we exit the meeting. A meeting is taking place in my mind. Insecurity, self-doubt, and fear have gathered around the table in my brain. And they are all discussing whether or not I’m able to handle being a manager. Could it be that Trent is a better manager than me? This does not sit well. Especially not for my emotions at the round table.

I head back into my office to find Trent sitting in front of my desk. I groan inwardly. I really don’t want to deal with him today. Except for the text he’s backed off. Can’t he stay that way? I brace myself. “Trent?”

“Lauren.” He nods at me, a familiar smile on his lips. “Good weekend?”

“Great. I’m really busy, Trent, so let’s make this quick. What do you want?”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, bringing your team up to speed? They took a bit of a battering last week.” I roll my eyes at his smugness. “That’s why I’m here—you didn’t reply to my text. I can help, really; I’d like to.”

“Trent, I’m fine. My team will be fine. They’re just finding their feet, new team and all.”

“Maybe, but my team is new too and I have to say that we’re killing it.” He sits there looking boastful. I can’t take much more of this. “Look, why don’t we go for lunch and toss some ideas around—”

“Trent, no. Please listen to me—this is the last time I’m going to say this. I do not need nor want your help. I do not want to go to lunch with you and I want you to stop contacting me outside of work. It’s inappropriate and I don’t appreciate it. Are we clear?”

Trent looks stunned at first, then his lips settle into a thin line. Like last time he nods his head once, then gets up to leave. I stand as well and walk to my office door to show him out. But in one swift movement he turns and reaches his arms around me and kisses me. Not a kiss on my lips. No. He pushes his tongue past my lips and into my mouth.

I don’t even have a second to respond. The bile in the back of my throat comes up and a bit passes into his mouth. He pulls back, shocked, and I rush out of my office and down the hall. I barely make it into the stall before I color the entire toilet a new shade of mixed browns and red.
Yuck.
Double yuck. I cannot believe that Trent actually kissed me. What the hell is his problem? I’m so disgusted. Which I’m sure he is now as well. I mean…who wouldn’t be with vomit from another person in their mouth? My shoulders shudder at the idea of it. And yet it only happened moments ago. I can’t help but think of one word.
Karma.

***

I haven’t gone home. I can’t. I can’t face Jack and tell him what happened. He will be able to tell by my face at the very least that I’m upset. I don’t know how to handle this situation. After I cleaned myself up in the bathroom, I returned to my desk and went about my day as if nothing had happened. Thankfully, I didn’t see or hear from Trent,
for once.
I don’t know who I can even talk to about this situation. Obviously not anyone at work…and not any of my family. They wouldn’t understand and would make all sorts of assumptions. No. I can’t have that.

But I have to do something. I can’t let it sit. I click on the Human Resources link on our company’s intranet and follow the link for the sexual harassment form. They say it’s anonymous, that you can report something without putting your name to it. But is this the right way to handle it? I download the form and print it out. I need to figure this out. I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen and put my head in the sand. Trent crossed a line that has to be acknowledged. It’s not enough that I vomited in his mouth; I have to report something.

I haven’t talked to Brianna since Jack showed me the house. I’ve been sending all of her calls to voicemail and when she texts, I’ve been saying I’ll call later—major issues at work, and things like that. Which is all true. But the main reason I haven’t responded to her or called her back is because I’m still really hurt. I cannot believe that she would willingly choose to make a commission over telling me that Jack had hired her to help find a house for us to live in. Us. Jack and me. I’m still in shock over this. She should have reached out to me or even hinted about it. Got my approval—something. But no…nothing, not a single word or a wiggle of an eyebrow. I swallow. I’m sitting outside Shantilly’s—our usual chat spot. But I’m alone. I told Jack that I had to finish a project at work and I’d be home a little late. It’s exactly ten after five. I bolted from work, so that I could do what? Sit alone? No.

Now more than ever I want to call Brianna and discuss this situation. But how can I jump from ignoring the house situation to asking for her help with dealing with Trent? I can’t ignore my feelings about the house and push forward about this. Or maybe I can. Maybe I can just not discuss the house at all and tell her about the kiss and then bring up the house at another time. The current situation that needs to be dealt with is work.

I’m hurt about the house hunt, but it’s not affecting my career and possibly soon-to-be-marriage. This is a no-brainer. I hit Brianna’s number on my phone.

“Money is not an issue…name your price.”

“What?” I jerk my head back.

“The ransom money—I don’t care about the amount. Name your price. Anything to get my friend back.”

I laugh. “Yeah…I think my friendship is priceless.” The last word falls from my mouth and though Brianna might not get the sentiment, I do. And I won’t forget. But I will not mention it at this moment.

“True indeed, so what’s going on?”

“Can you meet me at Chantilly’s? I really need to talk.”

“Sure, be there in ten.”

The click is quick and to the point. Which Brianna usually is. Now what? Do I go in and wait for her? I can’t say I’m not a bit gun shy about going to meet her at Shantilly’s on my own. The last time I showed up to here to meet her, Trent was here as well. It was purely coincidental…but I don’t want to experience that again. Especially not today. I scan the parking lot, which serves no purpose as I have no idea what type of car he drives. Maybe I should just wait for Brianna to arrive. I roll my eyes. No, I’m not going to be afraid of an awkward situation. I’ve already dealt with a disgusting one. Now I have to figure out how to resolve it. I have to tell Jack. He would be furious at me if I didn’t and honestly if it were the reverse, I would also be furious. But I have no idea how I’m going to tell him. And, further, what to do about it.

I hop out of my car. If for some wacky reason I see Trent I will undoubtedly grab the nearest drink and douse him in it. Shantilly’s is pretty chill even for a Monday but that’s fine. I don’t need a happening bar scene. I just need some alone time with my best friend. I swallow. I haven’t even told her but I asked Megan to be my matron of honor. After Jack and I left our house. With only two seconds to myself I called Megan and asked her if she would do me the honor. She immediately said yes and I had no regrets until this moment. When I’m reaching out to my best friend. Friend…I’m still having a hard time with this one as I can’t believe she would go behind my back and help my fiancé purchase a house for me to live in. I really can’t wrap my head around that one. And now, she really is the only person who I can talk to about this situation and yet I haven’t told her that I did make a decision about Megan being my matron of honor. I shake my head as I make my way to our spot, which is empty. Thankfully. I slide onto the couch and signal our regular waitress. She nods and walks over.

“Cabernet?” she asks.

The sides of my mouth pull up. I love that she knows what I want. “Yes, please.”

I pull out my phone and notice several texts. Five of which are from Megan. She has gone into full
Matron of Honor Planning
mode and has sent a kazillion lists including some highlighted “action items”. A bit of remorse creeps up in the back of my mind. Despite the other issue of asking her when I was in a vulnerable place about Brianna, I also didn’t think clearly about the fact that Megan is a
TYPE A Maniac
with lists, filled with highlighters, tabs, and my favorite as spelled out in these texts:
action items.
Is it too late to renege on an invitation to be part of the bridal party?