Chapter 32: Just Tell Her

Leo walked out without waiting for a reply. His final words hung in the air, punctuated by the sound of the door clicking closed behind him.

"Even if it doesn't last forever. Even if it's only temporary...."

Maybe Leo was right, David thought with a sigh. Was he just being a coward? A pussy, as Leo had so succinctly phrased it? Since when had David Powers ever been a pussy?

That had never been his problem. He had other problems, sure, but lack of confidence had never been one of them. Leo was the one who needed a ten-minute pep talk just to buy a girl a drink. David couldn't remember the last time he'd felt even a moment's hesitation. He would approach a woman anywhere. Didn't matter if it was a black tie gala or a grocery store checkout aisle. If an opportunity presented itself, he seized it. No fear. No hesitation. No pause to collect his thoughts. That was the rule he'd always preached to Leo: Just get in there and ask for her number without a doubt in your mind that she'll give it to you - and nine times out of ten, she will.  

What had happened to him? How had he been reduced to pussy-dom all of a sudden? Was he overthinking this? Maybe Leo was right. Maybe he should run home right now and fling the door open, and say-

Say what, exactly? That he was in love with her? That he'd probably been in love with her for years now? Not exactly the same thing as asking a woman for her phone number.

Anyway, it wasn't as simple as that. Leo didn't know the whole situation. He didn't know about the promise David had made:

"I will not do anything that could possibly be construed as a sexual advance...."

He'd told Penny that she could stay in his apartment for as long as she needed without having to worry about fending off any unwanted male attention. His hands were tied. That was why he hadn't spoken up all week. Not because he was a pussy. Because he was being a good guy. A gentleman.

As long as she was staying under his roof, he had to honor his word, but that didn't mean he had to stay silent forever. Tomorrow she was leaving. He wouldn't be breaking his promise if he told her after that. Maybe that was the answer. Of course, she'd be off in some igloo in northern Minnesota at that point, but he was pretty sure they had email there. Or at least snail mail. Probably better to write something like this out by hand, anyway.

Right. He should write her a letter. Obviously, that was the answer. He could give it to her on her way out the door tomorrow afternoon. He felt a wave of relief the moment the thought entered his mind. Of course. He should write her a letter!

He would get it all off his chest. And then, if she didn't respond, at least he would know he'd given it a shot. He wouldn't be haunted for the rest of his life by this feeling that he'd missed an opportunity. Maybe then he'd finally be able to sleep at night.

That was it. A letter. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

David swiveled back toward his computer and minimized the spreadsheet he'd been working on. He pulled up his personal Gmail account instead and clicked on the old, familiar thread:

It should be easy, writing her a letter. He'd already written it a million times before. She'd never taken it seriously because she thought he was drunk. And the truth was, he had been drunk for most of these. But not all of them....

There had to be some good material in here somewhere. He started scrolling down, his eyes scanning for a message where he'd at least been sober enough for proper punctuation. Ah, here was something. His eyes landed on a timestamp from the previous summer - a flurry of rapid-fire messages and responses:

David stared at the messages, trying to remember the night he wrote them. He'd had a dinner date, but it hadn't gone well, and he'd ended the night alone in his apartment with no one for company but his Gmail account. He hadn't been drunk, had he? He couldn't have had more than a glass of wine with dinner. Penny just assumed he was drunk, and he'd played along because-

The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and he closed the email on his screen with a hasty jerk. He turned his head to see the latest in his long line of new assistants.

"Did you need anything else tonight, sir? I was just about to head out."

Yeah, he thought to himself irritably. I do need something else. I need you to not come into an office with a closed door without knocking first. That would be a good start. Honestly, it was basic office etiquette. Where did the temp agency dig these people up?

He was just about to utter some scathing reply, but suddenly he stopped himself, the words from his conversation with Leo ringing in his ears:

"You've gone through 17 different secretaries since she left.... The entire firm knows how you feel...."

He needed to cut it out with the secretary abuse. The problem wasn't the secretaries. He knew that. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this girl - except for the fact that she wasn't Penelope Stewart. It was totally unfair. Totally irrational. Penny never used to knock either. And Penny sure as hell had never called him "sir."

David forced himself to swallow his irritation. She was a fine assistant, this one. He'd keep this one around. What was her name again? Wendy? Gwendy? He cast her a closed-lipped smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Goodnight Gwen," he said. "Good job this week. I'll see you Monday."

"Thank you, Mr. Powers. Have a good weekend."

He watched her turn and walk out of the office, and then he turned back toward his computer once again. Have a good weekend indeed. Probably not the best weekend of his life. Penny was leaving tomorrow. He had one more night before she went. He shouldn't be wasting it here at the office. He should go home. Maybe he should try to take her out. A little farewell dinner somewhere. Somewhere nice. Maybe they could split a bottle of champagne. Or two. Or three....

He sighed. The plan was not to get drunk. He could get drunk as a skunk after she left tomorrow. Right now, the plan was to write her a letter. Not an email. A letter. A serious letter. A love letter.

Just write the damn thing, he told himself. Just tell her. Wasn't that what Leo had told him to do?

"Just suck it up and be a man and tell her."

A love letter. A nice, heartfelt, handwritten love letter. David turned away from his computer and reached into his desk drawer for a pen.

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