He sounds both defeated and snarky. His emotions are showing. I’m really hoping mine aren’t. Which means it’s time for me to get out of here. I’m sure it’s what he’d prefer.
I pull out the brownies we saved for him and slide the plastic container across the counter. “I’m sorry. I won’t say I liked her for you because, unlike you, I value honesty.”
This makes him grin.
“Good night, Liam. Don’t give yourself indigestion.” I pick up my bag and quickly retreat.
“Good night,” he calls out softly.
Chapter 6 – Dad Mode
Liam
It’s three p.m. It’s a million degrees inside my car. My meeting with Comfort Castle Furnishings took four hours, and their parking lot has no shade. I wish that was the worst thing I could say about them. I’m not even the first consultant they’ve hired to help them work up the eventual gifting of their company to their very undeserving posterity. I’m the third.
I get paid either way, so I guess it doesn’t matter if they hate my ideas. But I don’t like accepting defeat, and I especially don’t like seeing rich kids at their worst. It hits a little too close to home.
When I first started in the consulting world, I was fearless and way too young to be starting my own business. The idea of failure never even crossed my mind because I could always throw more money at it—my parents’ money.
Getting cut off when I married Esther was freeing, but also terrifying. My biggest investors were suddenly gone. Becoming aparanoid workaholic certainly didn’t help what was already a drama-filled relationship.
If it wasn’t for my best friend Andrew and his very rich uncle who bought us out, I’d be toast.
My name is no longer on the company. I take a salary and work hard. I wouldn’t change it.
Blasting the air conditioning in my Volvo helps with everything except my burning hands on the steering wheel, but I manage to maneuver out of the parking lot and into traffic.
I’m almost to the freeway when Andrew calls. “Don’t bother coming back in. There’s an accident blocking the exit. Find a Starbucks and make some phone calls. I don’t want to talk to these people, especially when they always prefer you.”
“You’ve sent me a list?”
“Sure did. Check your email.”
Andrew is our spreadsheets guy. He sees business solutions based on formulas and charts. People are those pesky side details he lets the other consultants deal with. I’m pretty sure Marisol and I are the only adults he likes. He respects his uncle. He appreciates the efficient staff at Starbucks. The rest of the world is kind of annoying.
And behold, when I go under the overpass instead of turning onto the freeway, a Starbucks appears. Unfortunately, it’s a busy, noisy one, and I get a small coffee to go before finding a nearby library and utilizing one of their empty conference rooms. They don’t allow food or drinks in the building, but you can’t beat the atmosphere.
By five, I’m almost home, and it’s only then that I give myself permission to worry about seeing Rosalie for the first time since Friday night. The moment where she fell and we slid into the wall to stop her momentum plays over and over in my head, along with that little smug smile she gave me when she slid the plastic tub of brownies across the counter.
Gosh, she is the most aggravating woman. She has no idea what she means to me. I really think she believes she’s a cog in the well-run machine that is my life. I’ve let her believe that. I’ve let everyone believe that, including me.
Because if she’s not just the nanny, who is she?
Friday night shook everything loose, and I can’t seem to wrap the truth back up where I don’t have to look at it. Rosalie is important to me, and I’m protective of her. I knew that. But I’m afraid I have feelings for her, dang it.
Maggie would love to take credit for pointing it out, but it wasn’t her snide remark that opened my eyes. It was probably the safari outfit.
I let out a tiny maniacal laugh before going into dad mode. The minions have spotted me coming up the drive, and I can’t be thinking about Rosalie like that. It’s problematic on so many levels. So. Many. Levels. I’m a consultant who specializes in keeping workplace relationships professional.
The second I’m parked inside the garage, Wyatt slams himself into my car door with Callie right on his heels.
“Dad!”
“Back up, Wy.” I open the driver door, and I’m immediately assaulted by hugs and the unmistakable scent of wet dog. “Why do you two smell like that?”
“We played outside in the sprinklers, and the neighbor’s puppy got loose, and then he bit the water and knocked over Callie and licked my face. They said she’s gonna be huge. Can we get a big puppy? Rosie said we could.”
“Rosalie did not say you could.”