Dive

Chapter Eight

 "Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me." – Carl Sandburg

When I get home it's a little past seven. I am tired, but happy. Kyle loved the idea I had for the commercial and now I officially have the green light to go live with the campaign.

Lois is waiting for the elevator just as I step out of it. She's dressed in her street clothes; the black leather bag I always see her with hanging from one shoulder.

"Hey, Lois," I greet with a smile.

"Working late again, I see," she admonishes with motherly concern. "You're too young to wear yourself out like that."

"If I don't make an effort now when I have the time and the drive, then when?" I joke, discarding my heels and grabbing a pair of house slippers from the closet. "Careers don't just spring up on people, Lois."

She shakes her head, clearly in disagreement with what I just said. "You and Amanda are the same." She takes a step toward the elevator, then stops to add, "Dinner should be ready soon. I left desert in the fridge."

It takes me a second to process the information. "Wait, you're not cooking?"

"No, Mr. Hayes is here."

I stare at her back, trying to comprehend her words. Mr. Hayes, as in Alan? Before I can voice the question, she is in the elevator and the doors are closing behind her. "Have a good evening, dear."

"You too," I mutter, although she doesn't hear it.

Abandoning my bag in the foyer, I turn on my heels and head for the kitchen. Sure enough, the hallway smells of garlic and spices, and my stomach gives a quiet rumble of appreciation.

"Honey, I'm home," I call out to Amanda, expecting to see Alan by her side. I enter the kitchen and my smile fades when my eyes meet Knox's. He is standing at the island, still dressed in his office attire, though the sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows. He looks to be cutting some mushrooms into thin slices, although I'm too shocked by his presence to register the fact that he is cooking. In Amanda's kitchen, no less.

"Finally," Amanda says from the high stool opposite her cousin. "I thought you weren't going to make it home in time for dinner."

"Hi." My voice sounds meek all of a sudden. Knox being here has really thrown me off for some reason.

"Wine?" she asks, pointing to her glass. "I opened a bottle of white. It's in the fridge if you're interested."

Knox is still looking at me. I can see it from my peripheral, and I can't bring myself to meet his gaze again. So I give my friend a tight smile and turn around for the fridge.

As soon as I give them my back, I feel my eyes widen.

What the hell is he doing here?

Not that I have anything against him, but his presence makes me nervous. I feel out of my depth whenever I have to be in the same room with him, and this is not me. I never had an issue when it came to socializing with men, regardless of their wealth or social status.

I grab the bottle of wine and walk to the cupboards for a glass. The furniture is all sleek lines, shiny glass and chrome accents. I go to reach for the upper shelve in one of the cupboards and quickly realize that I can't without my heels. I'm not even that short, but whoever designed this kitchen didn't do so with my height in mind. A curse flows through my mind, although I don't get to voice it because a moment later a hand is reaching over my head and grabbing a tall glass.