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The next day she walked in with Roy, who kissed her on the cheek as she sat down at her desk. She smiled at him as he left and Jim was troubled to see a familiar sadness in her eyes. He allowed a few minutes to go by—a few long, agonizing minutes—before getting up and going to her desk.
He leaned in close. "When are you going to tell him, Pam?"
She kept her eyes on her desk, her voice low. "Tell him what?"
Jim sighed and glanced around the office briefly. "You know what. You made me promise. I can't break a promise." Had he promised? He couldn't remember. He'd meant to.
She looked up at him. "I've changed my mind."
"No, you haven't."
Her jaw clenched. "Yes, I have."
"Fine." He stood up straight, walked back to his desk. Once there, he couldn't help but look over at her. She was staring intently at her monitor, face stony.
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The morning was long, unpleasant. When Roy came up from the warehouse to meet her for lunch, she felt ill and told him so. "I'm going to stay at my desk. Maybe take a nap. Okay?"
"Again? Babe, what is with you lately? You aren't still mad about yesterday, are you?"
Yesterday.
She smiled and found she could say honestly that she was not. "Don't be silly. I'm just nervous and worn out…about the wedding and all."
Roy laughed. "Sure, I know. All right. See you at 5, babe." He offered Jim a grin of camaraderie on his way out. "Women!"
"Heh, yeah." He wasn't even sure what he was agreeing with, but it was typical Roy-banter and he'd learned that if he just grinned and nodded, it would go away.
She watched Roy walk out of the office before speaking. "Tonight."
Jim was taking a sandwich out of his desk drawer. "What?"
"I'll tell him tonight." Her face was still turned towards the exit, her eyes still glued to the spot where Roy had turned the corner.
Deep breath. He nodded slowly. "Good."
"I feel better now. I want food." Suddenly she felt voracious, which was so completely wrong. She should feel nauseated still, sick with the thought of what she had to do.
"Split my sandwich?"
"There won't be enough for you," she argued, but it was feeble and she didn't mean it. She stood before he could even respond, pulled her desk chair over to him and sat down. He was tearing the sandwich in half.
"You could have used a knife, you caveman," she giggled.
He looked around. "Where am I going to get a knife around here? You don't mean the plastic knives in the breakroom, do you? 'Cause those couldn't cut—"
One of her hands was in her lap, idly holding her half of the sandwich. The other was suddenly on his own as he lifted it to his mouth, stroking slowly at the skin on the back of his left hand lightly but so deliberately that it frightened him a little—frightened her a little, he could see that much. Their eyes met and hers were wide, his questioning.
She was tracing the slight impressions of his veins, following them down to the base of his wrist with soft fingers. "Is this okay?"
He nodded slowly. "This is okay."
She moved closer to him so that their knees touched, then closer.
He put the sandwich down, reached for her face to touch it with tenative fingertips, trailing them down slowly to her jaw, brushing his thumb across her lips so lightly that he barely knew that he'd done it. Part of his mind begged him to kiss her now, another more rational part forbade it. Then he felt her hand on his leg, on his thigh, and his mind agreed with itself completely as he leaned forward quickly to press his lips against her own. It was every bit as good as he could have possibly imagined. No, a thousand times better. Infinity times. His hand went for her blouse, fingering the buttons briefly before he remembered where they were. And then…
"Oh my god!"
The pair leaped backwards so fast that Pam almost fell out of her chair. Kelly stood before them, jaw dropped practically to the floor. "Oh my god, you two…!" Her mouth moved noiselessly, frantically. She was, for once, at loss for words.
"Oh my god!" she cried one more time, running to her desk.
Pam was panicking, face red. Jim stood and went to Kelly, trying to steady his voice and failing. "You can't tell anybody anything."
"Sure, sure." She was rifling through papers at her desk at an alarmingly pointless rate. "I won't. You're just lucky it was me and not Michael or Dwight or Angela."
Or Roy. What were we thinking? What wasI thinking?
"Or Roy!" Kelly gasped, covering her open mouth with one hand. "Oh Jim! Now, part of me is really glad you went for it—it's so romantic in a Harlequin Romancey sort of way, but—oh Jim! I mean, everyone knows you like her and probably that she likes you but there's no way you can act on it now, not with the wedding coming up and all! And Roy! Who's going to tell Roy?"
"No one is gonna tell Roy." He glanced back at Pam, who was sitting in the desk chair, face in her hands. "The engagement's off. And you're not gonna tell anyone about that either, okay? Just between you and me and Pam."
Kelly looked delighted to be entrusted with a secret. "Of course, Jim. Between me and you and Pam." She pantomimed locking her lips, throwing away the key. "You can totally trust me."
He released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you. Thank you so much."