More Than Pen Pals by Dana Wilkerson

five

My office door swings open without warning.

Wendy puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. “You let me blabber on about that man like a fool, and all the while you know him?”

I hid in my office upon my return from the confrontation with Ash on the sidewalk, but I knew it was only a matter of time until Wendy finished her meeting and demanded an explanation.

“Can you close the door?” I ask.

She narrows her eyes for a few seconds before sticking her leg out and kicking the door shut.

“Well?” she asks, hands still on hips.

“Please sit.” I motion to the deep purple upholstered chair next to my desk. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Wendy flounces over to the chair and plops into it. “This better be good. I thought you were my friend.”

“I am. Please hear me out.”

She hesitates but finally nods.

“It all started in fourth grade.”

She sits up straight. “You’ve known Ash since you were ten? How? You’re from Arkansas, and he’s from here.”

“We were pen pals.”

“Ahhh. I had a pen pal named Jill from New Jersey.” She cocks her head. “But she was a girl.”

“I thought my pen pal was a girl.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “Why would you think Ash is a girl?”

“Because Ash isn’t his full name.” If Wendy doesn’t know his real name, he likely won’t appreciate me divulging it to her, but I can’t avoid it. “It’s Ashley.”

Her eyes open wide. “Ohhhhh. How did I not know that?”

“He thought I was a boy, I’m guessing because of my name and he would’ve assumed the person he was matched up with would be a boy, like I assumed they matched me up with a girl.”

“But didn’t you send pictures? Jill and I did.”

“I sent a picture with my first letter, but it was of my whole family. I often refer to Shannon as my twin, not my brother, so it would’ve been easy for Ash to think Shannon was the girl in the photo and I was the boy.”

She nods. “I can see how that could happen.”

“We wrote back and forth for several months before he sent a family photo and I realized he was a boy. At the same time, I discovered he thought I was a boy because he asked me what it was like to have a girl for a twin. But my twin is a boy.”

“So you figured it out, but you didn’t tell him.”

“No.” I press my lips together.

“Why?”

“I was ten, and I really connected with him. I was into sports, and he was into sports. We both played tennis. We both had brothers who drove us crazy at times, and we had much younger sisters. Our birthdays are on holidays. We had a lot in common, and I enjoyed writing to him. But I had a feeling he would stop writing to me if he knew I was a girl. Or at least he wouldn’t tell me anything interesting.”

“You were probably right.”

“Yeah, and I was wrong to do what I did.”

“You were ten.”

“Yes, when it started, but we were fourteen when he stopped writing back. I should’ve told him.” I never told him because as we got older, I became infatuated with him. He was my first real crush, but I’m embarrassed to admit that to her.

Wendy scoots up to the edge of her chair. “So what did he say when you caught up to him today? You did catch up to him, right?”

I nod. “He didn’t want to talk to me. He wouldn’t let me explain.”

“He’ll come around. He’s a reasonable man.”

“I don’t think so. He was adamant he wanted nothing to do with me. I’m going to let it go and hope I never run into him again.”

“Those hopes are going to be dashed.”

“It’s a big city. I should be able to avoid him, even if he works around the corner.”

She shakes her head. “Not possible.”

“Why? Because you’re going to date him?” I don’t want to think about why I feel sick by that notion.

“Heck, no.”

I raise an eyebrow. “But he’s at the top of your list. A couple hours ago you couldn’t stop talking about him.”

She flicks her thumb and forefinger up and down. “Switch flipped. He’s now off the list. I’ll find someone else—like that guy with him and Randall at lunch. Or your twin.” She points to the family photo on my desk and smirks at me. “He’s more beautiful than you—and Ash. But anyway, I can’t date Ash now, because the two of you are obviously destined for each other.”

I laugh, because of both Wendy’s final statement and her ability to shift her affections from one man to another at breakneck pace. “I don’t think so. He won’t talk to me.”

“Think about it. You wrote letters to each other for fouryears. And now you’ve found each other again after all this time. It’s so romantic.” She puts her hands over her heart. “Imagine telling this story to your grandkids someday.”

“Oh, yes, telling them about how Nana lied to Pop-Pop for four years will be a great family memory.”

“You were a kid. He’s a good man. He’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t know. And no matter what you say, I’m planning to avoid him, anyway.”

“You can’t.” Her eyes dance, which assures me I don’t want to hear what she’s going to say next. “He works with us.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “He does what, now?”

“He’s our legal counsel. The man is in our office more than his own.”

I’m floored. Doing legal work for a PR firm was nowhere in Ash’s grand plans for his future. Isn’t his dad a partner? Surely Ash can pick his clients. Has he changed that much in the years since I’ve known him? And why doesn’t Carter-Jenkins have in-house counsel, anyway?

“Cat got your tongue?” Wendy asks.

I shake myself and focus on my friend. “So you’re saying I’m going to have to deal with him?”

“More importantly, he’s going to have to deal with you.”