I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. It was just an office party. Another stupid, pointless Michael-driven, rent-a-carnival party in the parking lot. It’s not a special night. God, it’s only Thursday - not even a Friday, which always floods me with thank-God-no-phones-just-Jim-for-two-days giddy anticipation.

But there was something today. Just a twinkle I thought I saw in Jim’s eye. A nervous sizzle running through the mundane activities of yet another boring afternoon in the office. That sly little smile at the fireworks being set up that made me think that maybe, maybe tonight was the night. No more pranks, no more joking around. Just something sweet and impulsive and totally us.

Truthfully, the parking lot wasn’t really where I wanted it to happen. I am a girl, after all. I’ve had silly daydreams about it happening in overstuffed four-poster beds at B-and-Bs and on a picnic blanket under an ancient sycamore. I keep running that scene from A Room with a View through my head, the one where George strides through the tall grass on the hillside and kisses Lucy until her knees give out – only it’s Jim and me, and he breathlessly tells me he can’t live without me and wants me to marry him and run away to his villa in the hills of Tuscany. Or something like that.

But lawn chairs and squealing Roman candles and beers would have been fine. All he had to do was ask. I would have been more than happy to chuck my fantasies and say, “Yes. Of course. How could you think I would say anything else?”

****

“Ready to head home?” Jim asks. The corners of his mouth force themselves upward in a semi-smile that definitely doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Sure,” I say, mirroring his expression. “Just let me run to the bathroom.”

As I turn, I hear him sigh, blowing the breath he’s been holding through his nose. I hope that means I’m not the only one who feels cheated tonight.

****

As I head out of the bathroom and through the front door, I see the last two cars pulling out of the parking lot, their red lights twinkling merrily in a way I find unusually annoying. Jim’s nowhere to be found. His car is still there, tucked into the far corner. I duck around the side of the building and call his name.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text, from Jim’s phone.

YAY – ANDY’S GONE NOW. ON THE ROOF. COME UP. — J

A clownish smile stretches across my face and I head back through the glass doors. I push the up button on the elevator as fast as I can. Maybe this won’t be such a bad night after all.