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probably been alone for a greater percentage of the time than I’ve been in any kind of relationship. I don’t date much either. The biggest reason for that is, in my experience, men don’t want to date smart women.
    It’s a sad truth. Even men who claim they want to date a smart women don’t really want that. I’d do much better getting dates if I were a stewardess instead of a computer programmer. And even though I lost the glasses, I know I still give off that nerdy girl vibe. I just can’t turn it off, much as I’ve tried.
    The other problem, of course, is that I get bored easily in relationships. Much as I hated Luke for arguing with me every day in expos class, I’ve never been as thoroughly intellectually stimulated in a relationship as I was in that class. It was both aggravating and thrilling. And once I get intellectually bored with a guy, everything gets boring. Even the sex.
    Flannery O’Connor was right—a good man really is hard to find.
    Of course, it would be great if I could show off some big diamond ring to Luke, but at least I can look reasonably good. I have one really stunning suit in my closet that I got from Chanel. It fits like a glove and brings out the curves that I don’t really have. I bought it at the mall six months ago and wanted to wear it for the perfect occasion, but nothing was ever good enough. But I think seeing your hotshot new boss that you rejected back in college should count.
    I’m determined that when Luke sees me tomorrow, I may be a loser, but at least I won’t be a frumpy old hag. Especially since it’s obvious he’s just as gorgeous as he was sixteen years ago.

Chapter Five
     
    My meeting with Luke is scheduled for ten o’clock the next morning. I can’t get any work done before the meeting, partially because I’m too nervous and partially because Jenna keeps coming over every five minutes to ask if I had the meeting yet. I also go pee about ten times because that’s what I do when I’m nervous and each time I check my make-up. I don’t usually wear make-up, so I’m worried I put on too much. No matter what, I can never seem to get the hang of putting on make-up. I always end up stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara pen.
    “Are you wearing make-up, Ellie?” Jenna asks me during one of her trips to my cubicle.
    I touch my face self-consciously. “Why? Does it look bad?”
    “No, you look great,” she says. Then she adds thoughtfully, “You know, Luke Thayer is single. It might help us all out if you, you know…”
    “Uh…” is all I can come up with.
    Obviously, I’m not interested in Luke. I wasn’t interested in him when I was young and stupid, so I’m certainly not interested now that I’m old and jade… er, wise. I have no interest in being another one of the conquests of some handsome playboy. And considering we’re in the midst of a company buyout, I really need to completely focus on my career right now.
    At 9:55, I head upstairs. Luke is apparently temporarily using one of the offices on the floor above us. Presumably, he won’t need an office anymore after he finishes stripping and dismantling our company, then selling the pieces for profit.
    My stomach is all butterflies as I exit the elevator and traverse the hallway to Luke’s office. I see him from afar, although I’m not entirely sure it’s him until I’m a few yards away. Yesterday I looked at myself in the mirror and thought about how different I looked from my former self. But it turns out Luke Thayer’s got me beat by a million miles.
    Luke’s in a wheelchair.
    No, he’s not just in a wheelchair. He’s crippled. He’s very obviously crippled. I know that isn’t the PC word, but it’s the one that immediately comes to mind as I watch Luke talking to some other guy in the hallway, presumably some lackey. Gone is that fantastic body that I saw on the night of Primal Scream—instead of the washboard stomach, he’s got a gut, and he’s hunched up a bit in