The Opposite of Me by Sarah Pekkanen Page B

BEHIND his mahogany desk in his enormous corner office, the one with a full dining room and a private bathroom outfitted in cool blue granite and stainless steel. It was the office I’d had my eye on; I’d always figured in another ten or fifteen years, when Mr. Dunne retired, I’d be in line to get it.
    Mr. Dunne was the nicest of our three agency founders. He looked a bit like Santa Claus, with his shock of white hair and full belly, and he even played the part on Christmas Eve, when he walked through the office handing out goodies to everyone who was still working. Last year he’d given me a candy cane and an orange, and when I’d said, “Thanks, Mr. Dunne,” he’d laughed and said, “Who’s Mr. Dunne? I’m Saint Nick!” It was kind of sweet, in a clueless-grandfather sort of way.
    But right now his mouth was a tight, disapproving line.
    “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. I quickly obeyed. This was going to be awful. I’d never felt so humiliated and ashamed. I was desperate to get this over with as quickly as possible.
    “I want to tell you how very sorry I am,” I began. I couldhardly look him in the eye. I’d flashed Saint Nick, and I knew I’d think of it every single time I saw him.
    “Nothing like this has ever happened before and I assure you it will never—”
    “Lindsey,” he cut in, his voice a whip. “Doug is your employee.”
    I blinked in surprise. Where was he going with this?
    “Well, technically, yes,” I said. “But he doesn’t report directly to me.”
    “I don’t care who the hell he reports to. He works on your team,” Mr. Dunne said. “What were you thinking?”
    “It was a mistake,” I said, dropping my head in shame. “A terrible, terrible mistake. One I’ll never—”
    “I know you’re disappointed tonight, but that’s no excuse,” Mr. Dunne said. “You’ve left me with no choice.”
    Anxiety exploded inside of me, cutting off my airways and making me gulp shallow breaths. Suddenly I knew what he was about to say, and I had to stop him; I had to change Mr. Dunne’s mind.
    “Doug started it,” I babbled. “Ask him; he’ll tell you. Of course that doesn’t excuse what I did, I’m not saying that at all—”
    “I have to let you go,” Mr. Dunne said.
    His words hit me with the force of a thunderclap ripping apart the sky. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My entire body started to shake.
    Mr. Dunne exhaled. “Lindsey, I like you. You do good work. But aside from the fact that you’ve violated basic standards of decency in the office, you’ve left this agency open to a major sexual harassment lawsuit. You know we have a policy in place to prevent this sort of thing.”
    “Doug won’t sue!” I said, my voice rising to a hysterical shriek. “Let me talk to him; I swear he won’t sue.”
    “No, you will not talk to him!” Mr. Dunne thundered. Now he was really angry; spots of red appeared high on his cheeks.“Do you want him to say you asked him to keep quiet? Do you want him to say you threatened him? Do you want to drag the name of this agency—the agency I built from scratch—through the mud of a lawsuit?”
    “No, no, no, I didn’t mean that,” I said, unconsciously clasping my hands, as though in prayer. God, how could I possibly be making this worse? I had to think clearly now; everything depended on it. I had to sell myself like I’d never sold anything before.
    “Please, just give me another chance,” I begged. I would’ve gotten down on my knees if it would’ve helped. I would’ve kissed his feet and brought him coffee every day. I would’ve done anything to keep my job. How could this be happening to me?
    If I’d been anxious before, waiting for Mason’s announcement, it was nothing compared to this. Panic spread through my body like wildfire. I was shaking so hard that even Mr. Dunne noticed, and his expression softened slightly.
    “I’ll work harder. I’ll do better. I swear