The Fate Date (Glengarry Curse #1)

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Gavin

G avin grabbed the mug he’d brought from home and walked the executioner’s path to the breakroom. It was the only way to kill the optimistic microchip Sabrina had implanted in his brain, assaulting him like a motivational Disney soundtrack on loop.

The astrological spreadsheet was not going to work. There was no way. There was a very large part of him that wanted to prove her wrong, so he could shake whatever spell she’d put him under. There was another, not so insignificant part that wanted to impress her, which only added to his irritation. The problem was that, if all this was real—fate, magic, the controlling malevolent cosmos—he was fucked. Well and truly screwed. And he couldn’t live in a world where even the nature of his birth had him cursed from the outset.

“Hi, Gavin.” He was greeted by a warm smile from Nila, who was sitting on one of the trendy chairs, knitting in hand. Gavin had only set foot in the breakroom once in his entire career: his first day at the new office, when he’d mistaken it for the door to the bathroom. Off to the side were a set of seventies-inspired couches separated by a peanut-shaped coffee table. In the corner of the room was a Pac-Man machine, which basically encouraged the employees to engage in time theft. Along the wall was a little kitchenette area, with a small dining table in the middle. The empty grey bucket seats around it were warped and balanced on spindly legs. The room smelled like an eclectic—and unpleasant—mix of lunch leftovers .

“Hello, Nila.” Gavin crossed to the coffee machine and filled his mug. “How are you?”

“Good thanks,” she said, watching him, as her needles clicked away.

He searched the sparse files in his brain for information on Nila. He often heard people raving about her food after company potlucks. She was on one of his project management teams. Gavin took a deep breath and tried to channel Sabrina’s unflinching cheerfulness. “May I join you, Nila?”

A beat passed, where Nila's mouth hung open. Had he small-talked wrong? He’d practiced his smile in the mirror this morning, until it looked less wolfish. Nila picked up her jaw and gestured to the empty chair across from her.

Gavin thought back to the spreadsheet and Sabrina’s sweet singsong voice penetrated his head. “Nila is like a walking heart-eyes emoji, exceptionally devoted to her family: their wellbeing comes first.”

“How are your kids?” he asked her.

The unease melted from Nila's face, replaced by genuine joy. “They’re all doing well, thanks for asking. Avan was picked for the soccer team.” She beamed.

“That’s fantastic.”

“He was the only freshman.”

“Impressive. You must be very proud.”

Her knitting needles stilled. “Kalli is in her senior year so she’s working on university applications and Arun went off to Waterloo. We’re going to visit him for homecoming next weekend.”

“That’s a big change. What’s he studying?” Gavin asked. He remembered the moment as bittersweet—he’d missed his brothers and parents, but had also loved the excitement of frosh week, parties, and being able to carve his own path in the world.

“Computer Science.”

“That’s what I did,” Gavin said .

Nila set her knitting needles down on the table. “Do you want to see some pictures?”

Gavin thought it might be weird to fawn over pictures of people he didn’t know, but he sensed saying no would undermine any social progress he’d made. “Sure.” He scooted his chair next to Nila. She showed him pictures of her son in front of the major sites at the Waterloo campus. Gavin’s dad had insisted that they do the same.

Gavin pointed to one of the buildings in the photo. “That’s the library—one night we snuck in and stuck mustaches on all the pictures around the place.”

“No,” Nila said, “I can’t picture you doing anything so…”

“Reckless?”

He’d been different then. Always chasing the next party, the next prank, the next rush of adrenaline that came from getting away with something. Until he didn’t. Until it had cost him the thing that meant the most to him.

The next picture was of Arun and an older gentleman who must be his father in front of the computer science building. “You must be so proud,” Gavin said, against the lump in his throat. “I started at IM Securities during my university co-op. If Arun is looking for a placement, let me know.”

“Thanks, Gavin.” Her smile matched the one in the next picture.

Gavin stood from the table feeling lighter. He never knew Nila had three kids. He’d enjoyed talking to her. He ought to incorporate a bit more of this into his day—not because he was told to, but because his colleagues were nice people. He was already regretting some of the impersonal emails—comprising of a single sentence in the subject line—that he’d sent her this morning.

Before he could revel in his success, however, Alfred joined them in the breakroom.

“Gav, what are you doing here? ”

“Uh, coffee machine broke at home.” He didn’t think “I’m feigning interest in my colleagues to get a promotion” had the right ring to it.

Gavin thought back to his spreadsheet. It had worked with Nila, but would he have similar results with Alfred?

“Hey, I was hoping we could revisit the project proposal from last Friday from the McKinnon Group,” Gavin said, and Alfred’s face hardened. Gavin couldn’t blame the man for automatically assuming battle stance. He continued quickly. “You obviously saw something in the prototype. I was a bit pressed for time and may have overlooked some worthwhile features. Perhaps we could sit down together and create a list of criteria for future projects.”

It had occurred to Gavin that a lot of the R&D project evaluations were based on unsaid criteria between him and Malcolm, the retired CFO. But based on Alfred’s…was it his Mars in Libra? Whatever hocus pocus the spreadsheet was predicated on, maybe Gavin needed to take a more collaborative approach for better success. “The McKinnon project you’ve identified could be a test run. We can have them resubmit and you can coach them on some of the weak points of their proposal.” Adding in a dash of creativity and leadership, without compromising the company’s bottom line.

“That sounds awesome. I’ll set up a meeting in the calendar. I’ve got so many ideas.” Alfred pulled him in for one of those half-handshake-half-hugs and said, “Thanks, Boss Bro.”

That nickname was worse than sweetie.

Gavin noticed that the breakroom had become more crowded, people openly staring at their exchange. Alfred broke the physical contact. Gavin, having completed two successful social interactions, intended to quit while he was ahead. He turned to the door that should have led to freedom, only to discover his path was blocked.

“Hey, Gav, I heard you’re bringing your girlfriend to dinner on Tuesday at Ian’s,” Yves said .

Gavin forced his jaw, currently grinding his teeth down to the bone, to open. “Yes, she was able to take some time off from the department.”

His mind instinctively began to recalculate how to make his breakroom escape around Yves, but Nila's squeal stopped the maneuver in its tracks. “Do you have a picture of her?”

Gavin spun to face her, trying to keep his voice impassive.

“I don’t take a lot of pictures, no.”

“What, after a whole year, you don’t have a single picture of her? Effie makes me take a selfie with her everywhere,” Alfred said.

Tension clawed between Gavin’s shoulder blades. He noticed Yves make eye contact with Alfred, who sported a smug smile.

Gavin took out his phone and texted Sabrina.

Can you send me a picture of yourself?

I’m not sending you nudes.

Not the mental image Gavin needed presently.

stop.

a picture of your face

Alfred put me on the spot

Tit. For. Tat.

Except, no tits

One nickname. Not sweetie.

His phone buzzed and his breath caught. God, she was beautiful. It was a candid photo, one she probably had saved on her phone. She was caught mid-laugh, the small flecks of green in her hazel eyes sparkling .

He turned the phone around to show his colleagues.

“This is Sabrina,” he said, surprised by the soft pride in his voice.

Nila stood and ambled over to get a better look. “Gavin, she’s stunning.”

Of all things, disappointment seemed to bubble up his throat. Gavin swallowed back the corrosive sensation. That tiny part of him, the one that wanted to impress Sabrina, to kiss her, rebelled. Despite the absolute absurdity of his thoughts, he couldn’t seem to shake the desire to be the man on the receiving end of that joy. Maybe he just had a weird form of indigestion.

Nila passed his phone to Yves and Alfred. “I can tell you’re smitten, the way you’re looking at your phone.”

The statement sobered him. An inconvenient crush was one thing, but the fact that it was painted on his face for all to see was careless.

“You should bring her to the office one day for lunch. I’ll bring my pakoras—they’re an old family recipe.”

“I’ll let her know.” Food, family tradition, and a good hug from Nila—Sabrina would love that. She was the total opposite of someone like him.

He made sure Yves and Alfred got a good look at the photo. He took one last look himself, suppressing the instinct to memorize each of her features before locking the screen and heading back to his desk. He had work to do. He couldn’t gawk at his phone all day. Especially if that involved becoming any more attached to Sabrina. His business colleague. The woman his secrets depended on.