Before I realize it, my efforts turn aggressive and sloppy. Apuddle of water has formed at my feet and soapy water coats the countertop. Suds drip in rivulets down the face of the cabinet doors below.
Moving to clean up my mess, I pull the drain and wipe down the counter, cabinets and floor. By the time I finish, I’m crying. I don’t know how or when it started but the tears escalate into choking sobs as I lower myself to the kitchen floor. Knees tucked to my chest, I bury my head between them and wait for this wave of emotion to pass.
Even as the tears subside and my breaths find their steady rhythm again, I still can’t move.
My resolve is shaky, because my heart wants to run toward him—every part of me wants to run toward him. But it doesn’t matter because now’s not the time.
I can’t go into these next few weeks—this trip, meeting the woman who gave birth to me, telling my family—with Connor consuming my every thought. It’s not that I’ll never have this conversation with him, I just can’t have it on my plate right now.
I get to my feet and grab my phone. The screen comes to life, my text thread with Connor still open in front of me. I release a blast of air from my lungs as I reply.
Me
I’m not ready to talk.
Before he can respond, I block his number.
Chapter Seven
TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED ME TO DO
Connor
“Mr. Driskill will seeyou now, Mr. Vining.”
“Bethany, I thought we were on a first name basis,” I say with a wink as I rise from my seat. Outside his door, I take in a deep breath and straighten my spine before stepping into my boss’ office.
Six weeks post break-up, Lauren’s dad finally had an opening in his schedule and I swooped in to grab it.
Lauren has continued to reach out to me every couple of days and I still haven’t responded. She could barricade herself in my office at any time and demand that I talk to her and I wouldn’t blame her one bit if she did.
“Connor, have a seat,” Mr. Driskill’s imposing voice commands my attention. “Have a seat, son”was the norm for the better part of the past two years, but I’ve lost the right to that title.
“Good morning, sir.” I drop into the chair across from him.
He spends a few moments wrapping something up on his computer before he turns to me. “Sorry about that,” he says as he clasps his hands on his desk. “You wanted to meet with me?”
“Uh, yes. Well…” I fidget in my seat. “I know things around the office have changed recently and um…” I pause to gauge his expression, but he remains unreadable. “Anyway, I felt it right to touch base and assure you that it won’t interfere with my work.”
He rubs a hand along his jaw. A moment later, he opens his mouth to speak at the same time my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. With my thigh pressed up against the wooden arm of the chair, the incessant buzz sounds more like a rapidly pulsing freight train.
Quickly, I reach blindly into my pocket and send the call to voicemail.
Mr. Driskill flashes his eyes briefly to the hand in my pocket, ensuring the interruption has been dealt with before he says, “Yes, we do find ourselves in an interesting situation here, don’t we? I appreciate your efforts to try and minimize the fallout, but I’m not?—”
My pocket buzzes again.
“I’m so sorry!” I send the call to voicemail once more and shift my body so that my phone is no longer wedged against the arm of the chair.
“As I was saying,” he continues, “I’m not sure coming to me was the answer.”
“Sir?”
“Connor, you’re a damn good graphic designer. Probably the best one I’ve got. As your boss, I like you. So much, in fact, that when you started dating my daughter, I didn’t have the slightest bit of concern.”
My gut churns, uneasiness settling in, but I don’t let myself look away. I have to face this head on.
“It’s none of my business what happened between the two of you. I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. As it relates to this company, frankly, it’s best I don’t know the details. You’re both grown adults and relationships get messy and complicated sometimes. As the CEO of this company, I cannot let personal matters affect business operations.”
