The Wild Woman's Guide to Traveling the World Read online

  What I needed to do was recapture my sense of commitment. It had temporarily fallen by the wayside, but now that I’d returned from vacation, it was time to buckle down and show Elizabeth just how determined and competent I was. I’d blow her away with my professional attitude and my efficient, expert performance on these internal audits. When it was over, she’d be so impressed that she’d ask Martin Chu to reconsider my lifetime ban from the Asia division.

  Yes. I can do this. With my breath steadied, I walked down to the thirty-third floor and emerged from the stairwell with a new sense of purpose. When I reached Seth’s office, the lights were still out. Naturally, he hadn’t arrived yet; it wasn’t even nine o’clock, and he routinely rolled in after ten. So I took advantage of the quiet and began to set up my workspace on the empty spare desk. With my laptop, legal pad, and highlighter pens carefully arranged on the black leather desk blotter, it was starting to look less like the site of my last bad decision and more like the place where I’d rebuild my damaged reputation.

  An hour and forty-five minutes later, I’d already checked off the first two items on Elizabeth’s lengthy to-do list. I was confident. Undaunted. On top of the world.

  And then Seth appeared.

  “Well, well, well.” He clucked his tongue and slithered into the office. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  Deep breaths. Remain professional. “Hello, Seth.”

  He approached my desk and ran his finger along the oak laminate top. “I see you couldn’t stay away.”

  I forced a tight smile. “I just go where Elizabeth tells me to.”

  “I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised when she told me we’d be working together.”

  “When did she tell you that?” I’d only found out about this two hours ago. The fact that Seth knew about this before I did was disconcerting.

  “Sometime last week? I don’t know. I hardly pay attention when she talks.” He rapped his knuckles on my desk. “But when I heard your name, my ears definitely perked up.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you’re looking forward to it.” At least one of us is.

  “Oh, yes.” His mouth curved into a greasy smile and he ran his tongue across his upper lip. The sight of it made me queasy. “I’m definitely looking forward to a lot of late nights together in this office.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  By 5:45 on Friday afternoon, I only had three unchecked boxes left on my to-do list. Of course, this was not the original list Elizabeth had dictated to me in our tense Monday meeting. Since then, she’d issued four revisions. Each morning, I’d arrive before 8:00 a.m. to discover a freshly printed checklist waiting for me in the center of my desk blotter. And each morning, the number of unchecked boxes seemed to grow. Seth received his own separate lists, which he’d glance at indifferently before tossing them on top of his mountain of messy paperwork and heading to the kitchen for his first of many coffee breaks. I had no idea how much—or how little—progress he was making. Elizabeth had done a good job of assigning us discrete tasks, so my only concern was ensuring my half of the work was complete.

  To that end, I implemented a filing system to keep myself organized and on track. Each piece of paper had a sticky flag attached to it. Red stickies were for flowcharts, green stickies were for financial statements, and blue stickies were for business requirements. The papers were then stacked in color-coordinated folders, which were placed neatly in a vertical incline file sorter on my desk. The orderly display brought a sense of calm to an otherwise tumultuous and hostile work environment.

  Because, frankly, things with Seth weren’t going so well. At least, not since sometime around Wednesday afternoon, when I’d turned down his sexual advances for about the twentieth time. After that, he accused me of being frigid and had barely said two words to me since. The only sounds filling the room on this early Friday evening were my fingers tapping on the keyboard, his intermittent guffaws at whatever viral video he was watching, and the incessant buzzing of my smartphone against my desk.

  “Will you answer your goddamn phone already?” he said. “It’s driving me nuts.”

  Without saying a word, I reached over and clicked it to silent mode. He sat up in his chair and peered at me over the chaos strewn about his desk.

  “Who keeps calling you, anyway?”

  “No one’s calling,” I said, my eyes still on the laptop screen. “They’re texting.”

  He grunted. “Some poor man who hasn’t yet realized you’re completely asexual?”

  I balled my hands into fists and dug my nails into my palms. Deep breaths. Don’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you get angry. “It’s not a guy. It’s a woman. My best friend.”

  “If it’s your best friend, then why aren’t you answering her?”

  “I’m too busy.” Which was the truth. I was really busy. And right now, I was also too worried about working myself back into Elizabeth’s good graces to stress over whatever Elena wanted to talk about. Undoubtedly, she sought to bury the hatchet and move on from what happened in Hong Kong. I just didn’t have the energy to listen to her sob, and I certainly had no desire to hear any more of her opinions on how controlling and miserable I was. I knew I’d have to pick up the phone and call her at some point. But I wasn’t going to do it before I’d checked off the last of these three boxes. And certainly not with Seth in the room.

  “I swear,” I said, “this to-do list Elizabeth gave me has tripled in size since Monday morning.”

  “That bitch is so uptight.”

  Instantly, I felt protective of her. “She’s under a lot of pressure. It’s not easy being a partner at McKinley.” Especially when you don’t have Daddy bailing you out all the time.

  “Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “She just needs to get laid.”

  Until this point, I’d actually been okay with letting Seth’s comments roll off my back. After a few deep breaths, a clench of the fists, and an occasional bite of the tongue, my desire to chew him out would fade. But this was one misogynistic remark too many. Surely the fact that he was John Ramsey’s son couldn’t preclude him from following basic laws against sexual harassment in the workplace.

  “You know, Seth,” I said. “I think—”

  My speech was interrupted by someone banging on the door, then flinging it open without waiting for an invitation.

  “Sup, bro?” A lanky guy with a buzz cut and a pair of rimless eyeglasses burst into the room and smacked Seth’s open, waiting palm. “You ready to bust outta here, or what?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Seth leapt to his feet and slapped his laptop closed.

  “Did you finish everything on your to-do list?” I asked.

  He snorted and rolled his eyes at the stranger in the room. “Owen, have you had the pleasure of meeting Sophie? She’s one of Elizabeth’s lapdogs.”

  “Hardly,” I said. “But she’s gonna flip out if this stuff isn’t done on time.”

  “Chill out,” said Owen. “It’s happy hour. Wanna grab a beer with us?”

  “I have to get the rest of this done.” I gestured to the folders spread out beside me. “Some of us actually do work around here.”

  Owen scowled. “For your information, I do plenty of work. In fact, I’ll be back here tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday, man,” said Seth.

  “Yeah, but I’m on deadline. I may be hungover as fuck, but I’ll be here. Gotta get my shit done, know what I mean?”

  Seth shrugged. “Whatever. I’d never waste my Saturday at work. I’m gonna hit the can. I’ll meet you at the elevator in five.”

  “Cool,” Owen said. “I’ll see if I can round up Claire and Jeanette.”

  Just like that, they disappeared into the hallway, without so much as a good-bye.

  Not that I minded. I was happy to be rid of those fools. With a quiet office, I could finally concentrate. If I set my mind to it, I could bang out those last three tasks in an hour—two at the very most. Maybe I’d actually escape the offi
ce before the sun went down. If so, it’d be the first time I’d done it all week.

  Too bad the only thing I could focus on was the fundamental unfairness of life. Seth had been born to an enterprising and resourceful father, and as a result, he’d been gifted opportunities that the rest of us had to beg and sweat for. While he was out getting loaded without a care in the world, I was stuck behind this desk, crunching numbers and ignoring messages from someone who I claimed was my best friend.

  I picked up my phone and saw twelve new texts. The first eleven were from Elena. She asked if I was okay, if I was still mad at her, if I’d please meet her for dinner this weekend or at least let her buy me a drink. Reading them one after another made me feel very small. She’d made a mistake, and she apologized. Did I really need to make her grovel? How long was I going to hold this grudge?

  Then I opened the twelfth and final text, from an unfamiliar fourteen-digit number.

  did you get my package?

  At first, I assumed it was meant for someone else, a wrong number. I hadn’t received any packages at home this week, unless maybe it had arrived today, while I was at work. But just in case, I wandered over to the reception area, where Jeanette had already abandoned her post to go bar-hopping with Seth and Owen. After poking around in the incoming mail bin, I unearthed a legal padded envelope with my name scrawled in thick black marker, right above “c/o McKinley.” There was no return address, but the postmark on the upper right-hand corner plainly read “Hong Kong.”

  For a second, I could’ve sworn my heart stopped. Then I felt it thumping madly against the inside of my rib cage, so hard I was afraid it might burst. I knew it was from Carson—who else could it possibly be?—but I stared at that envelope, frozen and confused, as if it had been delivered from an alternate universe. As if hearing from him was beyond the realm of the possible.

  I ripped it open right there, standing over the front desk. Inside was a spiral-bound book with a smooth brown cover. Flipping through it transported me back in time. The pages were filled with brilliant sketches of scenes from our trip throughout Hong Kong and Macau: a round table piled high with bamboo baskets of dim sum, the casino floor at the Grand Amadora, the two of us sitting side by side on a bench at the top of Victoria Peak. And then, at the very end, a sequence of images so graphic that I automatically snapped the book closed. Even though the reception area was completely deserted, it didn’t seem appropriate to look at them in public.

  With my cheeks burning, I hustled down the hall and back to my office, where I quickly shut the door behind me. I picked up my phone and read the message again; then I tapped the screen and frantically composed a reply. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many questions I wanted to ask. But the first thing that came to mind was:

  when did you get a cell phone?

  Carson had worn his technophobia like a badge of honor, decrying the impersonal nature of texting and the destructiveness of that big black hole known as the “Internet.”

  “Everyone’s always got their noses buried in their phones,” he’d said. “Reading other people’s stories and snapping photos for the future instead of living in their own realities, in the here and now.”

  I’d nodded in agreement, deeply moved by the profundity of his words, momentarily convinced I’d leave my smartphone behind in the hotel safe rather than bring it back to New York with me. Back then, I’d been committed to living in the present moment and soaking up my immediate surroundings. But now I bathed in the glow of this slender handheld device, grateful for its ability to connect me to the other end of the world. Was Carson feeling the same way? Had he finally caved to the detachment and convenience of twenty-first-century technology? I pictured him jabbing clumsily at his new gadget with one thick index finger, drafting his reply. When it arrived, I read it while the phone was still buzzing in my hand.

  yesterday. figured it was time. maybe you rubbed off on me. :)

  My heart was still throbbing, and the words on the screen began to blur and melt together. I couldn’t shake this feeling of disbelief, like there was a phantom sending me these texts just to mess with my head. Fear paralyzed me, and as I struggled to think of what to say next, another message popped up on my phone.

  can you talk now?

  Without thinking, my thumb slid to the CALL button, and I listened to the digital click of the ringtone while my leg bounced nervously under the table. Then, from across the miles of land and ocean between us, I heard his voice in my ear, deep and smooth like butter.

  “That was fast,” he said.

  “So you gave in and got a phone.”

  “I wanted to check if my package arrived. I know you don’t spend a lot of time in the New York office, but it was the only address I had for you. I figured they’d forward it on to you, wherever you were. Did you get it?”

  I leaned back in my chair and swiveled around, biting my bottom lip. “Yes. I’m actually working out of the New York office right now. And your gift is lovely. I don’t remember seeing that notebook when I was in Hong Kong, though.”

  “I bought it right after you left,” he said. “Without you around, things became a little less interesting. So I started visiting all the places we went together, remembering everything we did, and recapturing all the memories in pencil and paper.”

  “I noticed you captured some rather…intimate memories as well.”

  His laugh was soft and wicked. “Did you like them?”

  “I haven’t looked at them carefully yet,” I said. “I opened it when I was in the hallway, and I was afraid someone would see. Good thing for you no one was around.”

  “Is anyone around now?”

  “Nope. I’m all alone in my office.”

  “Good. Turn to the last page.” I did as he commanded and saw a sketch of our naked bodies tangled together, pressed up against a windowpane. His head was nuzzled in the crook of my neck; my mouth was open wide in ecstasy. The skyline of Macau was visible over my shoulder. “That’s the scene I haven’t been able to get out of my head all week.”

  My breath halted and I closed my eyes, trying my best to envision every curve and line of his face.

  “Remember that first night at the Grand Amadora?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I tugged gently at the collar of my shirt.

  “Remember when I had you up against the glass?”

  At once, I felt the slick, cool pressure against my back, smelled the peppery scent of his aftershave. A chill quivered through me.

  “Yes.” It was the only word I could say.

  “I wish we were doing that right now.”

  Muffled voices echoed in from the hallway, shattering my fantasy. I opened my eyes to find I wasn’t in the Chrysanthemum Suite, limbs entwined with Carson. Instead, I was seated at my desk, the stack of color-coordinated folders beside me, my laptop open and glowing on top of the leather desk blotter. In one swift movement, I stuffed the sketchbook in my top drawer and slammed it shut. “This isn’t the kind of conversation I should be having in the office.”

  “I thought you said you were alone.”

  I cleared my throat. “There are still some people walking around on my floor.”

  “What happened to the Sophie who liked to put on a show?”

  “That was different. No one knew me in Macau. Here I could lose my job.”

  Carson heaved a sigh of defeat. “Okay. Well, next time we talk on the phone, make sure you’re at home. Because I was just getting started.”

  His words made me shiver. “It’s so good to hear your voice,” I purred.

  “Now that you’ve got my number, you can call me whenever you want.”

  I glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. How had so much time passed by? I could easily spend all evening with my ear glued to the phone, losing myself in Carson’s voice as it echoed through my head. But I needed to get back to work; those three unchecked boxes awaited.

  “Can we do this again tomorrow?” I asked.

  �
��Absolutely,” he said. “I can’t wait.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I love you, Sophie.”

  The last time I told him I loved him, it had been a gut reaction. An automatic response that came straight from my heart without thinking. This time, I didn’t want to answer right away. Instead, I counted slowly to five in my head.

  One.

  If I was going to say it, I wanted to mean it.

  Two.

  I didn’t want to give some knee-jerk answer, said merely because it seemed like something I was supposed to say in that moment.

  Three.

  I wanted to think it through. To give a rational, reasonable reply.

  Four.

  So if I stopped to consider how I felt about him, how he made me feel, the effect he’d had on me ever since I met him, the way I desperately didn’t want to hang up the phone and say good-bye, was this really and truly love?

  Five.

  It must be. Because I couldn’t think of any other word to describe it. I felt it in my bones.

  “I love you, too.”

  “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  I heard a click on the line and the screen went black. With my skin still tingling, I covered my face with my hands and suppressed a squeal. Happiness oozed out of every pore.

  My to-do list loomed before me, those three unchecked boxes taunting me with their emptiness. The sun was going down. In less than an hour, it’d officially be dusk. I had wanted to get out of this office while there was still a hint of daylight in the sky. Now it looked like that might not happen.