Jana

Most mornings I watch the news while I eat breakfast. Not because I’m a news junkie—I’m not—but because when I went to New York for my first editorial meeting, I kept getting lost in conversations that I should’ve understood as a grown-up, but I didn’t because I’m more Netflix than CNN.

Not nearly enough conversations about Gilmore Girls, which I found weird for a greeting card company.

Anyway, so now I have this little morning ritual, and I learn enough to skate through grown-up conversations. Some days I just watch the headlines. Today, I linger over my toast because one of the stories is about SwiftEx, and all the B-roll footage makes me think of Delivery Guy. The news reader promises more information about that story after the break, so I put on another piece of toast. Then I do some counter push-ups, because bonus toast needs to be burned off.

When the program comes back on, they get into more detail. Apparently some of the computer infrastructure is really old, and last night there was a server crash and it accidentally tripped a cascade effect, and most of the Eastern seaboard system is in chaos.

I don’t know what that means, but I can say it with some authority, and that’s all that matters. Well, I know what chaos means. It means I’m probably not getting any packages today.

For the first time since Nina and Daisy started inundating me with cat toys, I’m disappointed to think I might not be getting another shipment.

I should have had more faith in Delivery Guy. His truck rumbles to a stop in front of my building in the middle of the afternoon. I meet him at the door after distracting the cats with treats, but from the set of his mouth to the way he quickly hands over the box—this one heavier than the last few—I’m not surprised when he says he can’t stay.

But my heart does a little twirl at the idea that he thought I might expect him to linger, if only for a few minutes.

“It’s been a crazy day,” he adds.

No kidding. I try to make a joke. “I heard on the news. Plus, on top of the regular holiday packages, some people get way too many…” Cat toys. No, I can’t admit that out loud. “Regular things.”

Wow, Jana. Way to really nail that punch line.

One side of his mouth pulls up in a half-smile anyway. “Hey, we’re just grateful that you’re still an appreciative customer.”

“Did you get yelled at a lot today?”

“In a manner of speaking. Did my fair share of yelling, too.” My eyebrows shoot up and he laughs. “Not at customers.”

“Is it madness behind the scenes right now?”

Another half-smile. They light up his face, his eyes softening as he admits the truth, like he’s sharing a secret with me. “More than I can explain. But it’s a good kind of madness. We’ll get it sorted out.”

“Too bad this job is just temporary,” I say.

He hesitates before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Well, you’re very good at it,” I tease. But it’s true, he is. “Maybe they’ll hire you on full-time.”

I’ve clearly way overstepped, because his face goes all tight. No more softness, no more light. “Jana…”

I wave him off. “Ignore me. I’m sorry. None of my business.” I lift the box in the air. “And thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome.” He frowns, but doesn’t say anything else.

Flirting with your delivery guy really should come with a manual. I suck at this. I give my best attempt at a bright smile and step back, ready to close the door and pretend that entire awkward mess didn’t really happen.

But Delivery Guy is smoother than I am. He flips a quick glance at his watch. “Probably twenty-three hours or so until we do this again.”

“Barring any further technological meltdowns.”

He laughs. “I think they have some of the best people working to make sure that doesn’t happen, but the countdown to see you again is definitely good motivation to make sure everything is fully back online by the morning.”

I snicker. “Right. These conversations are—”

“The best part of my day.” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and I try not to overreact to that, but oh my God. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

A quick wave and he’s gone, and I make myself wait until I’m inside the apartment before I squeal and jump up and down.

In the kitchen, I open the drawer where the scissors live, and all four cats come running. They know what’s in the box, and they’re not wrong.

But underneath the now-expected package of cat toys is another box.

A vibrator.

Well, a “personal massager” according to the packaging, but come on. We all know what this is for, and oh my God, my friends are perverts.

Doesn’t mean I’m not going to use it.