Dinner Invitation

Susan

I grabbed my planner from my office, trying to distract myself from the way my stomach churned after that elevator encounter. Why did Elliot always have the power to leave me so off balance? One look, one word, and my carefully constructed defenses crumbled like they were made of paper.

I was walking back toward the elevator when I realized I’d left my pen on my desk. “Get it together, Susan,” I muttered to myself, turning back for the second time in five minutes.

As I stepped into my office, I froze. On my desk was a small box with an elegant cream-colored envelope resting on top. My name was written in bold, confident strokes...Elliot’s handwriting.

My pulse quickened as I picked up the envelope and slid my finger under the seal. Inside was a note, short and to the point:

“Dinner. My treat. Friday at 7 PM. Don’t say no.... Elliot”

I stared at the words, my emotions swirling into a confusing mix of anger, curiosity, and something I didn’t want to admit felt dangerously close to excitement.

What was he playing at? After what I’d seen today, why would he think I’d want to have dinner with him?

But before I could crumble the note in my fist, my eyes landed on the box. Against my better judgment, I opened it.

Inside was a fountain pen...sleek, polished, and engraved with my initials. It was the kind of pen that oozed elegance and screamed expensive.

I clenched my jaw, torn between wanting to throw it back in his face and being touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

But I didn’t have time to linger on my feelings. My phone buzzed with a notification. It was Gerald, reminding me of a team presentation first thing in the morning. With a sigh, I grabbed the pen and my planner and headed back to the elevator.

When the doors opened, I stopped short. Of course. Of course, Elliot was still here, leaning against the wall in the lobby like he’d been waiting for me.

His eyes immediately found mine, flicking to the box in my hand before settling back on my face. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You got it,” he said, his voice smooth and self-assured.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I shot back, holding up the box.

“I know,” he replied, stepping closer. “But you needed it.”

I arched a brow. “Oh, so now you know what I need?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I always have.”

That did it. His cocky tone, that maddening smile...it all sent a spark of anger shooting through me.

“Why are you doing this, Elliot?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Doing what?” he asked innocently, though the glint in his eye said he knew exactly what I meant.

“This!” I gestured to the box, the note, the unspoken tension between us. “Showing up, leaving me gifts, acting like...like...”

“Like what, Susan?” he pressed, stepping even closer.

“Like you still care,” I finished, my voice cracking despite my best efforts.

His expression softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw something genuine in his eyes. Regret, maybe. Or longing.

“I never stopped,” he said quietly, the weight of his words settling heavily between us.

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. But before I could respond, the elevator doors opened, and a group of employees stepped out, laughing and chatting as they passed us.

The moment was broken, and I took the opportunity to step back, putting some much-needed distance between us.

“I need to go,” I said, my voice steadier now.

Elliot nodded, his expression unreadable. “Friday at 7,” he reminded me as I walked away.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk away at all.