"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think I'm anywhere near ready for that," admitted Matthew. "Despite the way we've drifted apart, and all of Lindsey's infidelities, it's going to take a little time for me to get used to the fact that I'm not a married man any longer. And that status has nothing to do with legalities or a piece of paper. I haven't felt truly married to Lindsey for a long time, and my moving out just validated what I've been feeling all along. And, well, at this point I think sleeping with some random woman I was set up with would just smack of a revenge fuck. I've gone without sex for weeks and months at a time before, and I can definitely do it now."
The two friends walked out of the restaurant together, pausing when they reached the sidewalk outside. Ian clapped Matthew on the back reassuringly.
"You'll get through this," assured Ian. "And you can always count on me for support, hmm? I'll chat with Tessa this evening about having you over for dinner, and text you with a few different dates. Now, not to rub salt in the wound as you so wrongfully accused me of, but I - er, am rather anxious to head home."
Matthew laughed as they exchanged a hearty handshake. "You are a smug bastard, Ian! And one with an evil streak as well. Get along with you then. And thanks for being such a good sounding board."
He was still chuckling as he walked the three blocks back to his office building, his mood far better than it had been over the past few weeks. Actually, if he was being completely honest with himself, while he wouldn't describe his mood as being actually happy right now, he did feel oddly content. He missed his kids something fierce, but was continually trying to assuage his guilt on that matter by keeping in frequent contact with them. At least he did with Casey, since Hayley didn't seem particularly distressed at his absence. Nor could she bother to spend more than a couple of minutes chatting on the phone with him before ringing off to talk to one of her friends instead. Matthew wondered vaguely when his little girl - the one he'd taken to soccer matches and the playground and Disneyland - had morphed into the slightly sullen, completely disinterested teenager she was now. It had probably, he thought with a sigh of resignation, been around the same time that his marriage had started to crumble into tiny pieces.
The executive floor was its usual beehive of activity as he walked briskly towards his private, expansive office suite, being stopped half a dozen times en route by one of the many employees who worked on this floor. MBI Solutions - an acronym for Matthew Bennett Incorporated - occupied an even dozen floors of this high-rise building in San Francisco's trendy Mission Bay area. He liked the fact that the office wasn't located in the claustrophobic Financial District, that he had an unobstructed view of the bay from his office, and that the company-owned condo that he was currently making his home was less than a ten minute walk from here.
It took him a good twenty minutes to finally arrive at his office after all the interruptions, and he heaved a sigh of relief as he approached his PA's desk. Elena had her own office situated just outside of his own space, perfectly situated so that no one dared to get past her unless they had both an appointment and her permission. One of his management staff had once groused that Elena was like a really scary combination of a dragon, a hellhound, and the school secretary. And while that description was definitely an exaggeration, there was no denying that she guarded him like a hawk, and kept everyone in this place - Matthew included - on the very tips of their toes on a consistent basis.
The fiery, forty-something Latina was petite and full-figured, but rather than minimize her ample curves by wearing dark, conservative clothing, Elena could usually be found wearing bright, vivid colors, often in bold prints and patterns, and always wore four-inch heels, even on "casual Fridays". Today's outfit was one of her most eye-popping - a tomato red pencil skirt, yellow silk top, and a multi-hued, floral print jacket. The heels were of a shiny yellow patent leather, her chunky jewelry as flamboyant as the rest of her outfit.
A couple of the more conservative board members had mentioned to Matthew on more than one occasion that perhaps his assistant should think about "toning down" her office wardrobe, and wearing more subdued outfits. But Matthew had very firmly set his foot down on that particular subject, declaring that he found his PA's choice in clothing to be both cheerful and soothing, oftentimes the only bright spot in his otherwise hectic, stressful days. He hadn't bothered to admit to the board members that the very thought of approaching his ferocious PA on the matter of her wardrobe was more than a little terrifying.
Elena eyed him dubiously as he drew closer. "I see that you had lunch," she commented. "I'd guess Manhattan clam chowder, something with a lot of grease, probably bacon, and apple - no, make that peach pie."