“There’s a lot of shit I did in my twenties too. Thirties are for comfort, and the guest bed has one of the best mattresses in this house.”
I don’t want him choosing this if he feels like he has to. But I’m sleeping in an office right now. It’s not hard to compete with that.
“Well… I’m…”
“Is that a yes?” He polishes off the second half of his bacon.
After our heated moment in his studio less than twelve hours ago, sleeping in his guest bed down the hall might not be such a good idea. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to though.
“Summer?” he prompts.
I should come up with an excuse. A reason to say no.
So why can’t I think of one?
“Thank you so much for coming in early. Jason, the firm’s partner, is having knee replacement surgery in a few weeks, and I’ll be taking his caseload while he’s on medical leave. I need to be ready for this.”
Hisentirecaseload? I’ve managed Emma’s for two weeks now and she barely has time to pee. No wonder she’s stressed.
Her fingernails clack at her keyboard. She acknowledged me with a nod when I got here. But that was ten minutes ago. She hasn’t looked up from her computer since.
The coffee maker dings. A bougie blend of vanilla and cinnamon swirls around the room.
“It’s no problem,” I tell her, filling two ceramic mugs. The rich brown liquid melts to a hazelnut as soon as the creamer touches it.
What I should be saying to her isthank you. The move-inconversation has consumed my every thought this morning. I managed to leave Everett’s with an “it’s not a no,” but I needed some space to make a final decision.
“It’s quiet today,” I notice. Not the usual chatter from down the hall I’ve grown accustomed to.
She smirks. “And you wonder why I work most Saturdays. Jason just happens to be at a conference today, so he gave Tara and Jasmine the day off.”
I hate that those women bother her so much. It’s no wonder Everett thinks she doesn’t have any friends. I need to get her away and show her what it’s like to have a good time.
“Would you want to grab a bite to eat when we’re done here?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
I chalk up her unenthusiastic response to the stack of emails in her inbox. Judging by the nervous tick in her knee, her schedule is in immediate need of managing.
“Great!”
I send two quick texts: one to Everett asking for the night off and the other to Julia, asking if Jake could pick Henry up from school and inviting her to dinner. I’ll be seeing a lot less of her if I decide to move out.
“I’ll be at my desk if you need me,” I say, taking a much-needed gulp of coffee.
“How long have you been sleeping with my brother?”
Hot liquid sprays from my mouth and rains on every surface in a three-foot radius from my body. Emma launches from her chair, racing for the stack of dishcloths she uses in lieu of paper towels. She hands me a few.
“I’m so sorry!” I apologize, mopping up my mess.
By some miracle I managed to miss her computer. But the edge of her desk, the chair, the hardwood,her trousers, all have sticky brown dots covering them.
“It’s fine,” she says, twisting off the top of her aluminum water bottle, wetting the tip of a rag, and dabbing it against fabric. I cringe as wet splotches paint her dress pants.
“Who told you that?” My eyes are stuck on the floor. No matter how many times I scrub the same spot, it takes me a solid minute to notice it’s clean. What a humiliating conversation to be having with your boss about her brother.
She chuckles. “You just did.”
