Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“I have to go,” I sigh into the phone, abandoning my sugary comfort. “Work and what not.”
“Call me later.”
“Promise.” After hanging up, I rise my casual gray, business dress covered frame to its feet and retrieve the white blazer that’s draped on the back of my chair. “Have all the outside vendors now officially been confirmed? The last thing I need is having to find a balloon dude morning of again.”
“They’ve all been confirmed!” She cheerfully states at the same time she nudges my door open further. “And everything has been finalized with accounting for all the profits to go to a local children’s hospital.”
The smile she’s given is genuine. “Perfect.”
“You also have a chicken ceasar salad waiting at the front for you to have for lunch. Katherine called me earlier to make the delivery.”
“I don’t need lunch.”
“She knew you would say that and told me to tell you…” Clemmy’s face momentarily scrunches while trying to recall. “Oh! I remember! ‘Deal with it, darling. You need more than Pop-Tarts in your life.’.”
See.
Cameras.
That heifer has cameras in my office!
“She’s so thoughtful,” Clemmy gushes as I stroll towards her.
“She’s so something,” I playfully mutter prior to kicking my chin forward for her to get moving.
Outside, next to the front desk, an unexpectedly attractive delivery man is waiting with a tablet and killer grin. “Miss Morrison?”
Okay, either the entire world took sexy pills or I’m sporting a thick pair of horn-goggles.
My smile is professional despite the fact his once-over is not. “That’s me.”
He cocks his head, extends his carob-colored hand my direction, and flirtatiously smirks. “Mind signin’ this for me?”
This?
No.
What he’s wishing for by the gleam in his eye?
Yeah.
Partially because I shouldn’t be trying to get a date at work – especially not with where I work – and partially because the only taste I want is the one I sprinted away from like I’m a direct descendent of Jesse Owens.
Thanks bar trivia for giving me a new comparison to use in my time of crisis.
I transfer the device to my possession, swiftly scribble my signature, and hand it back on the same polite grin. “Clemmy will show you where to place the products around back.” My stare shifts to her. “And I’ll watch the front while you do so.”
Clemmy enthusiastically nods and leads the charge away.
“Have a good afternoon, Miss Morrison.”
“You too, sir.”
He smiles wide one last time before redirecting his attention to my chatterbox assistant.
I’m thankfully blocked from his direct line of sight by an unfortunate savior.
“Hey, boss,” his typical good-natured demeanor is both relieving and infuriating. “Got a minute?”
Nope.
No-huh.
The absolute – and I do mean absolute – last thing I’m in the mood for right now, this far away from my sugary mood stabilizer, is having an uncomfortable, awkward discussion with my employee about his roommate who I’m in love with.
Er.
Used to be in love with.
I don’t know anything about this him, so I can’t possibly be in love with him…
Can I?
“Boss?”
Disbelief I let myself stay silent for so long, I shake off the stunned expression and try to play it off, “Sorry! I haven’t eaten lunch yet and sometimes when that happens I get a little spacey.”
He casually nods his comprehension.
“What’d you need?”
“Okay,” his arms brace themselves his chest, “here goes…”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Here we don’t go!
Here is not the time or the place to go!
“I’m gonna be an uncle.”
The unforeseen confession causes me to crunch my face in confusion. “Huh?”
“My oldest bro – the one I told you about yesterday – is having a kid.”
“Aw,” I mindlessly coo, “congratulations!”
“Thanks, boss.” He bashfully beams. “I'm gonna be the best d-a-m-n uncle, too. I’ve got all the ish planned out. How to sneak cookies. How to pick locks. How to know when to bob and when to weave. What he or she needs to do to stay in their parents’ good graces. Oh! And which routes to take to avoid the local PD versus which routes to take to avoid state troopers in a pinch.”
Curiosity over some of the unexpected comments twitches my lips.
“The problem is I wanna be there when my niece or nephew is first born – I’m betting nephew – ,but I can’t exactly put in a request like that since babies show up whenever the eff they feel like it, ya know?”
“Very true.”
“So, I was wondering if we could work out some way for me to just…take off that time when it comes?” Merrick’s uncertain tone combined with the request feels like someone has removed a single brick from the stack that’s crushing my heart. “Like pre-emptively arrange my disappearance without it effing me over on vacation or sick days or call-ins?”
“Of course! Just fill out a request form for the beginning of the month the baby is due. Make a note about the dates being flexible, write down how long you would like off from the start date, and send me an email if or when you have more information closer to time. I prefer the request now just to have something already on the schedule. I don’t love surprises.”