Jacob rolls his eyes, but he shuffles over to the calendar. He stares at it, hands on his hips, then glances at me. I arch an eyebrow, and he goes back to the calendar, tugging on his lower lip as his gaze darts over the days. Finally he spins and returns to the bed. He snatches Henry out of Karter’s arms and throws him up in the air, where the raccoon bounces off the ceiling before he lands on the top bunk.
“Hey!” Karter whines.
“I didn’t want the stupid top bunk anyway,” Jacob says, crawling into the bottom.
As far as bunk bed standoffs go, this one is relatively incident-free, unless you’re Henry.
“Good night, guys,” I say. “We’re going to have fun this weekend.”
They’re asleep quickly, if the snuffling noises coming from their room are any indication. When the boys were small, this would be the time of night on a Friday where Dominic and I would crack open a bottle of wine and put our feet on the coffee table. Usually we had big plans about watching a movie or slowly seducing each other over a glass of Syrah. Inevitably we fell asleep and woke up after the sun went down, then we stumbled to bed where we’d be asleep just as fast.
Tonight, I’m alone and far too awake. The apartment still makes sounds I’m not used to, and with no one’s shoulder to fall asleep on, I pull out my laptop. The family weekend looks like it will be a success. Time to start planning the next one.
This single life is imperfect, but I’m getting used to it.
7
Brady
Idon’t think about Nash or the way his mouth tasted or the scrape of his stubble on my cheeks or the hardness of his dick as he ground against me in the hallway.
Nope. Not for a single minute.
Except once again, I spend the following Saturday morning yoga class on my knees because of mysterious “foot cramps.” Because I may not get to gape at Nash’s perfect quads or the way his body strains from one pose to the next, but it’s been a week and I still I can’t get the memory of the desperate way he kissed me out of my head or the smell of his sweat as I buried my nose in his neck.
On Monday morning, an email comes in that I am not expecting. It’s from Bill Immerchuk, who is opening a bunch of new after-school tutoring centres. He’s got six locations throughout the city. I sent him a proposal for services, but I didn’t expect to hear from him again. With a company that size, a lot of businesses will have their own in-house IT, but on Monday, Bill emails me to say he wants some more details on my pricing.
I choose to take Bill’s email as an indication that everything is returning to normal.
Normal lasts until Harpreet from the Out & About office calls on Wednesday. “The internet isn’t working in Nash’s office.”
I sigh. Out & About is located in an old repurposed factory. It’s cute and spacious and gives the office a modern feel when you walk in, but the internet is a bitch. Everything is brick and concrete, which makes reliable Wi-Fi nearly impossible, yet Nash seems to think using cables when people are working at their desks somehow hurts their professional credibility.
Nash really is a bossy jerk. I need to remember this.
Except he’s a bossy jerk who pays the bills, and Harpreet is pretty awesome too, so I tell her I’ll come over in an hour.
The place is quiet when I arrive. The intern, Patrick, is sitting at the office’s central table.
“How’s the laptop working?” I say. “Any more password problems?”
“What?” He stares up at me from behind big Coke-bottle glasses that are partially obscured by a mop of hair that tumbles into his face. “Yeah, it’s good. Way nicer than the one I have at home.” He gives me a toothy smile that makes him look like he’s seven. He’s probably only a few years younger than I am. Definitely in his twenties.
Did I ever look that eager?
I figured out pretty quickly that working for someone else wasn’t for me. That I was never a great student should have been my first clue I wasn’t cut out to be someone else’s employee. All the things that didn’t work for me at school also didn’t fit when it came to the corporate life. Too many stupid rules, too many forms to fill out, and no one ever seemed interested in making things run better. I had three different managers tell me, “You have to learn how we do things before you can change it,” and every time, I was done with that job a month later. Working for myself is hard, but I never have to do anything just because it’s the way it’s always been done.
But I do have to do things the way Nash likes them.
“Is he in his office?”
Patrick’s eyes widen. “Nash?” He whispers it like if we repeat it three more times, Nash will burst out here and eat our souls.
I smirk. “Yeah.”
Patrick nods vigourously, and I decide not to tax him anymore. I give him a casual wave and head toward Nash's office.
“He’s on a conference call.” Harpreet pokes her head out of the office’s boardroom. Her hair is braided over one shoulder in a long tail, and she’s wearing a T-shirt with a dancing unicorn on it, along with the wordsBitch, I’m Fabulous.
