“We’re not being altruistic in offering this to you,” Xavier says. “It will add a lot of value to our business and our lives, as it would yours. You mentioned outside you want to have more time for your family, and working with us will give you that.”
“You can work your own hours, fitting it around your family requirements. You can also split your time between the office and home, but we insist at least one of us is here at all times. You need to be physically present here at least one day a week to be visible and available to staff members,” Sawyer adds.
“That sounds very workable. I’m blown away, and I don’t know what to say.” I am genuinely shocked they appear to want me this much. Pleasantly so.
“Say yes.” Xavier grins.
“I’ll review this tonight and over the weekend, and I’ll talk to Cheryl and my brother Kent. He’s my lawyer.”
“It might be prudent to bring him with you on Monday. I can have our legal counsel here too,” Sawyer says. “That way, if you have any legal questions or request any amendments to the contract, it will expedite the matter.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call Kent on my way home and see if he’s available.”
“Excellent.” Sawyer stands, walking around the desk again, and I rise, holding the envelope in my hand. “We would love to welcome you into our company as a co-owner, but if you decide the employee route is best for you at this time, we shall accept that. We can always revisit the other option at a later time.”
Xavier gets up too. “What Hunt means is we will take you any way we can get you, Keven.”
Sawyer mutters under his breath and glares at his husband. “We’ll just pretend he didn’t say that.” We shake hands again. “You have our numbers. If you need to ask us anything between now and Monday, call anytime.”
“Thank you both. I can’t even describe how much it means that you would trust me like this.”
“You’re a good person, Keven. The kind of guy we want in our corner,” Xavier says.
“Your family has been good to us and our friends over the years as you have too. This feels like the most natural fit to us,” Sawyer supplies.
“It really does,” I agree. “And the timing is right in a way it wasn’t before.”
“I love it when a plan comes together,” Xavier says, rubbing his hands in glee, and I chuckle. He’s like an excitable kid at the best of times. That, combined with his eclectic sense of dress, and it’s easy to forget he’s one of the world’s biggest tech geniuses.
“We look forward to hearing your decision on Monday,” Sawyer says. “Xavier will walk you out.”
16
CHERYL
Ihear a car pull up in front of our house, and I turn around in the kitchen, looking out the large front window to see who it is. Only family has the security code to the gate, but I’m not expecting any visitors. My eyes pop wide when I spot my husband getting out of his X5 with a massive bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne. A thrill shoots through me comingled with alarm when I notice the time on my cell. Keven is never home from work this early, and I instantly worry something has happened.
Wiping my hands down the front of my apron, I untie it, dump it on the counter, and walk out of the kitchen into the hallway. The front door opens, and my gorgeous husband steps into our house. Kev deposits his laptop bag on the hall table as he flashes me a winning smile, and my heart soars behind my chest cavity. A small skinny form whizzes by my legs, racing toward the door. “Daddy’s home!” Talisa yells, to alert her brother, before she barrels into Kev, wrapping herself around his legs. Our five-year-old is the biggest daddy’s girl. She adores Keven, and I love the close bond they have.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor asks, coming up alongside me. “Why are you home this early?”
Pain stretches across Keven’s face as our son’s words dig deep. He messes the top of Talisa’s long blonde hair, walking toward us with her holding on to his leg, being lifted on his foot. “Nothing is wrong, son,” he says, leaning in to kiss me as he hands me the flowers. “Everything is great.” He rubs his thumb across our son’s puckered brow. “Don’t worry so much.”
“You got shot, Dad. I can’t stop worrying.”
Taylor’s words pierce my chest, and I know Keven hates the anxiety our seven-year-old son suffers from now because he was shot on the job last year. Taylor has had nightmares and panic attacks as his fear of losing his father reaches deep into his subconscious. It has gotten a little better these past few months, but how can I tell my kid to stop worrying his father will get killed when it’s my greatest fear too? Which is why… “Oh, you had that meeting today. That’s why you’re back early.” Today was a manic day, and in all my rushing around, I forgot. “How did it go?”
“Amazing.” Keven beams at me as he lifts Talisa on to his back. “A celebration is in order,” he adds, waving the bottle of expensive champagne in front of me.
I immediately feel several layers of stress leave my strung-out body. “I want to hear all about it. You can fill me in while I finish making dinner.” I turn my attention to our children. “Is your homework finished?”
“Homework is stupid,” Talisa says the same time Taylor shakes his head.
“Homework is important,” Keven says, setting our daughter back on her feet. “Both of you finish your homework while I talk to Mommy. If you do a good job, I’ll take you out for ice cream after dinner.”
I have never seen two kids more eager to return to their homework as our spawn races around the corner and back to the study I share with them. Keven has his own home office, because his work is super confidential, and the kids aren’t allowed in there. I do most of my work from the studio I own in downtown Boston, but I have a dark room here where I develop and hang some of my photos, and I do the administration and accounts work from my desk in the study.
“Thank you for these,” I say, nuzzling my nose in the flowers as Keven slings his arm around my shoulders and we walk into the kitchen. “They’re gorgeous.”
