Jennifer Hillier: Creep

“You don’t want to know what I was thinking about,” she said, the last word coming out a croak from her dry throat. Her water bottle was on the desk in front of her and she took a sip before getting up to give him a kiss.

His strong arms held her close for a few seconds. Resting her face against his burly chest, she breathed in his scent. Soap and water and spicy aftershave, a comforting combination. He kissed her again.

“This is a surprise. What brings you by?” She sat back down and smoothed her skirt, an excuse to dry her sweaty palms. She was breathless, though there was no physical cause for it. She looked at her fiancé, sitting across from her at the very desk she and Ethan had once…

Stop it.

Morris beamed at her, blue eyes twinkling. “I need a reason to see my future wife?”

“Never.” She forced a smile. “But it’s been awhile since you dropped by to see me at work.”

And thank God for that, you stupid twat. You’re going straight to hell.

“I forgot how nice your office is.” Morris relaxed in his chair and looked up at the cheerful yellow walls and numerous potted plants. His eyes fixed on a framed photo of the two of them the night they got engaged. “I don’t normally surprise you, do I?”

“Well-”

“That’s why I brought you this.” He pulled a skinny velvet box from his breast pocket and slid it across the desk. “Surprise, beautiful. One year ago we had our first official date. Happy anniversary.”

She stared at it, the realization sinking in. “Oh, shit, it is our anniversary. It totally slipped my mind.” She was horrified at yet another lapse.

He winked. “I figured as much. No worries. You’ve been busy with work and planning the wedding, and I’ve had my head up my ass with that Okinawa deal. I’m amazed I actually remembered.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She visualized slapping herself hard across the face. Stupid bitch. You don’t deserve him.

“Well, don’t just sit there looking like a bigmouth bass. Open it.” Morris pushed the box closer to her.

“What is it?”

“Goddamn it, woman, open it,” he said, laughing. “Only one way to find out.”

She took the velvet box in her hands and turned the silver latch. Her breath caught as she lifted the lid. Nestled inside on a bed of dark blue satin lay a diamond tennis bracelet, glittering like little stars under the fluorescent lights of her office.

It was magnificent.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed.

He was studying her face. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” Her eyes were fixed on the bracelet in dazed awe. “Of course I like it, you crazy man. It’s gorgeous!”

“If it’s too long, I can have the jeweler take out a couple of the diamonds, maybe make you a pair of earrings.” He was clearly delighted at her reaction, and his grin stretched ear to ear. And he was the one who’d done the giving.

She held the bracelet up to the light and stared at it in wonder. Her eyes welled with tears. “Morris… you really shouldn’t have. This is too much.”

“It’s worth it just to see the look on your face,” he said triumphantly. His expression was so loving she almost broke down. “It’s an early wedding present. You deserve it, honey. You deserve everything I can give you.”

No, I don’t. I really don’t. She wanted to crawl under her desk and die. The desk where she’d let Ethan put his dirty hands all over her.

She stuck her arm out toward him, her smile garish and fake. “Put it on me?”

He obliged. It was a perfect fit, complementing her platinum engagement ring beautifully.

“Damn, there go my earrings,” she managed to joke.

Morris raised an eyebrow. “Good thing I put something on hold at the jewelry store then. Christmas is only a few months away.”

The shame of it was too much. Struggling to compose herself, Sheila came around the desk and sat in Morris’s lap, wrapping her arms around his thick neck. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing his lips, his forehead, his chin, feeling the dampness in his hair from the rain outside. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. Just like you.”

“I love you, too,” Morris said, returning the kisses. He stroked her hair. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”

Sheila pulled back a few inches so she could see his face clearly. It was now or never. “Morris, there’s something I need-”

A movement caught her eye.

Her words died when she saw Ethan standing in her open doorway, watching them. She hadn’t seen him in days, not since their breakup and subsequent showdown. His face was hard, his eyes narrowed into slits. When he realized he’d been noticed, his features immediately arranged themselves into a more neutral expression.

“Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Tao.” Ethan’s words were polite but his voice was edgy. He held up the book he was carrying. “Just returning this to you.”

Morris handed Sheila a tissue and she hurriedly wiped her eyes, getting up out of her fiancé’s lap. “That’s fine, Ethan. Go ahead and leave it there.” She indicated the short, crammed bookshelf beside her door.

Ethan placed the book atop the pile of papers, his eyes darting toward Morris. The grad student’s jaw worked tightly and his movements were stiff. He seemed unnaturally tense, but then again, Ethan had never met Morris. Maybe he’d assumed Sheila had broken off the engagement after his threats the other week. Threats that continued to hang like a noose around her cheating neck.

The graduate student finally stuck his hand in Morris’s direction.

“You must be the lucky man who gets to marry Dr. Tao,” Ethan said, his warm tone contradicting the coldness in his eyes. “I recognize you from the photos on the wall. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”

Morris stood, his presence immediately dwarfing Ethan’s. Grasping the younger man’s hand, he pumped hard, his typical hearty handshake.

“Thanks, thanks a lot. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Ethan Wolfe. I’m one of the professor’s teaching assistants.” His eyes flicked toward Sheila. “How long have we been together now? Three months?”

“You mean three terms.” Sheila’s voice was strangled.

“Of course!” Morris said, too loudly for the modest-size office. “She’s mentioned you several times.”

Sheila bit her tongue. Always the polite Texan. Ethan’s name had never once come up in conversation with Morris, she was certain as hell of that.

“So tell me, Ethan.” Morris was wearing his wiseass grin. “What’s it like working for this one? She as tough on you guys as she is on me?”

“Oh, she’s definitely demanding.” Ethan winked at Sheila, who was watching the whole exchange in dazed shock. “Never afraid to tell me what she needs. But it’s all good. I’ve learned how to butter her up.”

Don’t vomit. “You mean the homemade oatmeal raisin cookies?” Sheila’s stomach was in knots. “The ones your girlfriend makes?”

Ethan laughed and relaxed against the doorframe. “Right. The cookies. It’s my girlfriend’s grandmother’s recipe,” he said, addressing Morris. “Been in her family a long time. Whenever I need a special favor, I bring in a plate of Abby’s freshly baked cookies for Dr. Tao. Never fails to get me what I want.”

It took all of Sheila’s self-restraint not to backhand the cockiness out of Ethan’s pretty face.

Morris looked at Sheila, feigning scrutiny, and elbowed her good-naturedly. “Is that right? Interesting how you’ve never brought any cookies home for me.”

“She eats them all at work,” Ethan said. “She says they taste better than the ones she eats at home.”

Sheila thought she might faint.