Outside, leaves in hues of amber, crimson, and gold blanket the sidewalks. It’s the perfect weather for sipping a hot beverage while curled up with a good book. Avery and Tania would love this place.
But I’m not here to read. I’m here to get shit done.
I shift my focus back to Will, who continues to watch me carefully. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, and the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly. My heart flutters at the sight.
I take a sip of my maple latte to steady my nerves.
Stupid maple latte. When I arrived ten minutes ago, Will was already here, the latte waiting for me on the old oak table. I didn’t bother asking how he knew this was my preferred coffee order; I just thanked him dryly and sat down.
So why is he staring at me like this? Is he still basking in the fact that I begged him to be here?
“What? Is there something on my face, or …” I trail off as I notice his eyebrows perk up.
“No,” he says assuredly. “I’m just watching you enjoy your coffee.” I notice how much of a death grip I have on the mug and loosen up. “Seems like you needed it.”
“Look,” I begin, a hint of bite in my tone, “I agreed to ask for your help, and I’m here now. So I would appreciate it if you abstained from mocking me.”
His expression shifts. But I can’t read whatever is happening in his eyes. “I wasn’t mocking you,” he replies, still keeping his voice calm and steady. He softens his tone and continues. “I was just making an observation.”
The velvety sound of his voice when he softens his tone sends a spark through my spine; I shift in my overstuffed leather chair to shake off the feeling. “Hmm.” No use lingering on this any longer. I’m not going to play these mental games of wondering if he actually means it, or if he’s still toying with me.
I’m not one of his little girlfriends he can just string along and play with. I know this is second nature to him …
But he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
Except …
Unease coils in my gut as I remember that he does, in fact, know exactly who he’s dealing with. We’ve known each other for ten years. Maybe he doesn’t know me as intimately as Matt once did, but I’d say it’s pretty close.
And I wouldn’t be surprised if Matt even went as far as to divulge personal details about our sex life to him. To brag about all the new things we’d try.
A shudder passes through me. I swallow the lump in my throat. Thinking of how much I dared to trust Matt—how much of myself I allowed him to see—only for him to so casually plow in other fields gives me vertigo.
“Sophie?” Will asks, his forehead creased. “You okay?”
I snap out of my depressing reverie and focus back on the here and now. Right. Let’s get this over with. “Of course I’m okay,” I snap back. I straighten my back and glance down at Will’s phone, which is set between our mugs on the oak table. He didn’t bring his laptop or even any notes for today’s session. He’s only interested in recording our conversation. There’s a pit in my stomach at the thought of Will owning a recording of my voice. This seems so much more intimate than it really is. “So, let’s get on with it, unless there’s a reason you’re being eerily quiet?”
One corner of his lips curls into a crooked smile, and he chuckles softly. “It’s part of my process,” he explains. “I pride myself on being more than just a consultant. I like to fully understand what I’m diving into. That involves gauging how my clients are feeling in the moment. It helps me ask the right questions and get the information I need.”
I frown, and I can’t help but doubt that this is actually how he works. He’s not a spiritual coach, for crying out loud; he’s a business consultant. What sort of hogwash is this?
“Okay …” I squint, taking another sip of my latte while I wait for him to start, oh, I don’t know, asking some damn questions. “Just to remind you, I don’t have all day. I have a baby waiting for me in daycare.”
His gaze softens. “I know. And I promise you, Sophie, I won’t forget that. I respect your time.”
Huh. I wasn’t expecting a response like that from him, of all people. I huff and take a moment to centre myself, inhaling the sweet scent of coffee and old books surrounding us. No use getting myself worked up while he’s going through his ‘process.’
“So,” he finally begins, “we’re in the unique situation where I do know a few things about Party Côté already.” Yes, I know that. I know we know each other, despite me wishing so hard it wasn’t the case.
But that’s not quite true. If I’d never met Matt and Will, I wouldn’t have my babies. That’s something I wouldn’t trade for the world. Even if I multiplied the pain Matt inflicted on me tenfold, I’d do it all again for my kids.
Will continues: “But why don’t you catch me up on what’s been going on over the past year. You can start with hard numbers or talk more about operations. Whatever feels best for you to start with.”
Baring myself and the inner workings of my business, which might as well be my fourth child, in front of Will feels like teetering on the edge of a cliff. The vertigo makes me nearly dizzy. So I grit my teeth and try to erase his face from the frame I see in front of me.
I can pretend he’s just a random consultant I don’t know. Yeah. That’ll work.
I tell him what’s been going on for the last year or so; how the numbers are good, clients are happy, marketing is going pretty well, and leads come in steadily as long as I’m actively marketing myself. Even though it makes me nauseous to revisit it out loud, I also let him know about my two failures of the week: losing an employeeanda potential client.
