“I know what you mean—and I respect it—but how are you supposed to build a connection if you won’t hang out with her? How are you supposed to build a connection withanyone?”
Great question. The short answer is… I’m not.
“Trust me,” I say. “If I had another option, I would be there.”
“What happened, man?” He sets the phone down and shuffles away. All I can see in the dimly lit room is his back. “I had a good feeling about you two. You both like Broadway.”
“I don’tlikeBroadway. I went to one show—years ago.”
“And you liked it!”
“It doesn’t matter. Ican’tgo tonight. My assistant quit. No two-week notice. She’s gone.” I lift my hands, letting my phone clatter to the desk. “Now I’m stuck doing her jobandmine.”
“Seriously? But she was the best.”
“She was. Don’t remind me.” I stand up and pace the room, unsure whether he can still see me on the call. “On top of that, I’m stuck looking for someone to replace her.”
“Can’t you delegate that job to someone else?”
“No. No way. I’m looking for apersonalassistant. No one else knows what I need.” I pick up my phone and meet my friend’s gaze through the camera.
He’s holding the phone again, and I still have no clue where he is. All I can see are boxes behind him.
“You seem to have no issue delegating tasks tome,” he says.
“Ev…”
“No. I’m not doing it.” He isn’t a stubborn man, but the steely sound of his voice tells me the argument is almost over—and I’m certainly not the winner. “You have to tell her yourself.”
“Everett!”
“I’m going. I have other shit to deal with today—like clearing out this fucking room. Fucking junk room…”
I guess that answers my question about where he is, but…what room?
My brows furrow. “I hope everything is all right.”
“It’s fine. You’d better call her, Theo!”
“I will?—"
The call ends, and his usually smiling face disappears. I guess I’ll never know what he’s so busy with.
9:45 a.m.
My next meeting is in ten minutes. Usually, my assistant would be here to remind me, and she would do all the prep work beforehand, but today that’s on me.Everythingis on me.
I owe the woman—Joy—a call. Hell, I owe her dinner, but I don’t have more time to waste.
“You’re a terrible person,” I mutter, opening up our text threads.
Our conversations have been short, and I reasoned that we were saving the date to talk about ourselves, but now I’m stuck feeling like I don’t know how to speak to her. I genuinely do not know this woman at all. That’s my fault. I should try harder.
It’s too late.
Theo
Hey. Sorry for doing this at the last minute, but work is crazy today. Can we reschedule?
