Natalia

I walk-run into the nearest restroom. Find my favorite stall, and slide the lock into place. Using the toilet as a seat, I lean forward and bury my face in my hands, because I can no longer control this particular crisis.

The tears I staved off all week-end, the ones I didn't cry on Kate's couch, the ones I crammed back into my tear-ducts in the refrigeration room-multiply.

My palms are a puddle within seconds. I'm snorkeling in the shallow waters of my tears, until my nose can no longer escape through the gap between my hands and leaks, starving me for air. Even crying isn't working today. Whoever cursed me must have a great sense of humor, because I snort my tears back, choke on them, and get into a fit that generates more tears. They haven't invented a Heimlich maneuver for this version of choking.

The door into the restroom slams opens, and I try to stifle my spasms, which at this point sound like wet heaves, into my elbow covered by my white lab-coat. Hopefully, whoever came in isn't staying for longer than a pee. The burning sensation in my chest grows with every cramped breath. My attempt at stuffing whatever is trying to escape my lungs back in mostly succeeds at muffling my noises.

"Natalia. You in here?" Kate's voice calls out.Kate. She was looking for me. It better not be about that damn gamma counter. If I take my elbow away from my mouth, I'll be making sounds I can not currently vouch for. I slide the lock on the flimsy stall door and let it squeak open.

Kate hurries over. Her eyes turn into two giant pools of glistening blue. "What did that asshole do? You should've come to get me to referee."

I shake my head and my elbow.

"Can you stand?" Kate puts her arms around my torso and lifts my heap of a body off the toilet. The automatic flush washes away any remains of my dignity.

She walks me over to the row of sinks. The mirror that spans the wall reflects my smudged mascara and my devastation. So much devastation in my eyes, I don't recognize myself.

This is not me.

I look more like Mom than I ever did. I'm crying over a guy. I'm everything I've never wanted to be. I hate this version of myself and I don't ever want to see it. The thought of turning into my mother is powerful enough to shut the flow of tears and liquid snot. I remove the elbow from my face and inhale a shuddering breath.

Kate tears a square of paper towel, dampens it, and runs it under my eyes. "I have my make up bag in my office. We'll make you look so good, Fiona will have to compliment you even more." She gives me another piece to blow my nose. "All of this is fixable."

My face-maybe. But my life? It'll take a lot more than Kate's makeup skills to fix the train wreck I find myself in.

Kate brings me a handful of paper towels and turns on the faucet. "Wash. I'll be right back."

I run the warm, non-salty water into the pond of my palms and wash off the mascara, the smeared lipstick, and the emotions that Samson was so scared of. I rub the pathetic version of weeping baby Nata that hasn't shown itself in years off my skin. My plan is all I have left. Relying on Samson was my first and my last mistake. I don't need anyone to make my life what I want it to be. I'm a smart, independent woman. I will find a way.

The phone in my pocket buzzes.

I can't deal with Samson. If I don't see him at all this week, I'll be happy. I unlock the screen to put the phone to do not disturb. The text is from Phillip.

Whoville: If you're busy, I get it. But just making sure I have the correct number.

I was going to send him a polite "no thank you" from the car this morning, but Kate has a way to chat me into oblivion.

"See, quick as lightning." Kate re-enters the restroom as if my thoughts were the beacon calling her to re-appear. "You're already looking better." She sets her makeup kit on the counter and nods to my phone. "Why are you biting your lip?"

I stop trying to draw blood out of the skin of my mouth, turn the phone Kate's way, and show her the message. "I should say no, right?"

"Wrong." Kate gives me a makeup removing wet wipe, and I rub off the remaining traces. She produces a sponge and a jar of foundation out and dabs it onto my face. "You should absolutely say yes."

"Because?" I'm not sure I have any yeses left in me.

"Because"-Kate runs the highlighter pen over my cheekbones, forehead and nose-"you are a young, beautiful woman-"

I scoff. "You are a young beautiful woman. I'm a geriatric husk."

"Stop talking. You're ruining my efforts. And you are young and beautiful. What can go wrong if you go a flirt a little? Feel alive? Let those ovaries of yours wake up from the ten-year coma."

"I-"

She shushes at me. "No talking. You can thank me for taking the makeup class once I'm done with you."

What I want to say is that my life was not a coma, but arguing while Kate does my face is pointless, and arguing with Kate is generally pointless anyway. She puts stuff on my eyelids, cheeks, runs a layer of mascara over my eyelashes, and dabs more of the fire-red lipstick that turned half of the floor's eyes to me.

"Behold the beauty." She steps away and raises her hands to show her work is done.

With the amount of snot and tears that came out of me minutes ago, even Kate with her uncanny makeup expertise would not be able to turn me from a soggy Rudolph into anything respectable. There'll be more glances, but those will be about how dreadful I look, not how pretty. Pretty is overrated anyway.

I turn to the mirror.

My face is still my face, but it also is someone else's. My cheekbones are prominent but in a cute way, like arrows pointing to the red of my mouth. The shimmering of my eyelids and the definition of my eyelashes give me a fresh look of someone who wasn't sleeping on a backbreaking sofa for three mostly sleepless nights. I glow. Although nothing about this glow is natural, because I have seen what Kate started from, no one has to know.

"Damn," I whisper. I look just as good as the reunion night. Maybe even better without the heavier shades Kate used on me then.

"Hell yeah. Damn is appropriate." Kate undoes the top button of my labcoat. "Now let's take this thing off."

"No." I clutch at the lapels.

Kate points to the splotches of red, gray, and black all over my sleeve. "Incriminating evidence. Plus, you are going on a hot date with a hot billionaire, and your carpet should match the drapes."

What is she talking about? I give her a quizzical look. "That phrase doesn't work the way you think it does. It means-"

"I know what it means. What I mean is: your face is currently a masterpiece. Thanks to me. The lab coat is ruining the look. My T-shirt is a much better match to the red lips anyway."

The shade of red both have is close, as if I wiped my lips with the T-shirt and stained the fabric with the color.

Kate peels off the lab coat, tugs the rubber band off the braid I created in the car, and spreads all over my shoulders the cascade of my dark brown hair that reaches my butt.

"Here you are." She sets her chin over my shoulder, and we both look into the mirror. She is miles and miles more beautiful with her minimal makeup, but even next to her I see myself in a different life.

I am young and, with enough makeup, pretty doesn't seem that far off of a term.

Kate's lips go wide in a smile. "Now for the final step."

"Which is?"

She pinches my phone out of my hand, unlocks it, because she knows my pattern and had to use it so many times in the lab when my hands were too dirty with the solutions or tissue. "Time to let that hot date know where he'll be meeting you today."

"Today?" I reach for the phone, but she walks away, typing so fast with both thumbs, by the time I reach her, she hits send.

Me: I'm free at 3 p.m. Go to Building 17. I'll leave your name with the reception. Check in and text me when you're there. I'll come pick you up.

That is so ambitious, that for a busy almost CEO like Phillip, the chances he'll actually be free or want to come to this not so centrally located campus in less than four hours are slim to none.

Whoville: I'll be there. Should I bring the drinks, or is there a place we can do our early high-tea?

Kate smirks. "I like him already. Offering to bring you beverages."

She types another reply that she only shows me when she hits send

Me: I'll show you where to buy me one. And one for my friend Kate if you are offering.

I grin. She manages to insert herself into my coffee date with Phillip already. I catch myself.

This is not a date. This is just a meeting between two old friends.

Whoville: It's a date. Your friend can have her coffee to go.

Author's Note

12.15.22

What's with me and making the leading ladies cry in their chapters this week?But all ends well. Nata even has a date.

Next chapter is from Phillip's POV. More drama in that one. And the one after that is so good too!! We are entering a very juicy section of the book, and I'm enjoying torturing the characters a little too much. Send help, lol.

Thank you for your patience as I update both Love Words and Love Expectations at the same time. At east one more chapter to come this month for each story if all goes well.

Thank you for your support, for reading, and sticking with the story.

Don't forget to click on the star button to let me know you're reading.

Love,

GR