Hooking Up
Page 49
“That’s even better news.” My father leafs through the spreadsheets. “You really put in some serious effort, Lexington. I was worried when you wanted to extend the trip that maybe things hadn’t gone as I’d hoped, but you covered a lot of ground and managed projects I hadn’t intended to tackle until next year. We’re well ahead of schedule. I know this was a difficult situation for you, so I’m glad so much good could come out of it. I’m proud of the way you handled this.”
Instead of coming home when I was finished working on the Bora Bora projects the week after Amie left, I took it upon myself to head to California, with my father’s permission. I spent an additional three weeks planning a similar overhaul to the spa services department there, emulating closely the changes we made in Bora Bora, thanks to Amie’s suggestions.
I haven’t heard from her since she left. Nothing. Not a single text. I figured she’d at least message to let me know she made it home. But it’s been silence since she walked away from me in the airport.
It should be a good thing. We agreed that what happened between us would stay in Bora Bora. It’s far too complicated to bring it back here. She’s fragile. But during the time we spent together it felt like more than just sex and distractions, and that’s not her fault. It’s mine. These are the things I keep telling myself every time I compose a message to ask how she is. I delete it before I give in to the urge to send it. I can’t delete her contact though, even if I should.
If things were different, then maybe . . . but they’re not.
And now that I’m home, back in the same city she is, all those what-ifs are clawing their way to the surface of the mental grave I buried them in.
“So what’s next?”
“You should take a few days off. You deserve it.”
I nearly fall out of my chair. That’s huge coming from my father. But I can’t do that right now. I need to get out of my head. I need something to focus on that isn’t Amie. “I just spent the better part of two months by the ocean, I’m good. I just want to get back to work.”
He’s silent for a few moments, possibly shocked. I’m usually the first one to jump on the chance for a few days of sweet fuck all. “Griffin and Bancroft are working on the New York hotel renovations. Would you like to consult with them about the spa service upgrades you’re proposing in Bora Bora and California and see if anything would work here? I’m sure Bancroft would be happy to have the help with Griffin heading to Asia in a few weeks.”
“I can do that. What about an independent project after that?”
The tapping starts again. “Everything okay with you and your brothers?”
“Everything’s fine.” I’m just worried Bane is going to pick up on things I don’t want him to. We talked regularly while Amie was in Bora Bora, mostly him checking up on me, making sure I wasn’t doing things I shouldn’t, even though I was.
“Give me a couple of days, I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Dad.” I gather up the folders, already mentally reviewing what I think will transfer seamlessly from the Bora Bora hotels to New York.
“Lexington.”
I shift my gaze from the stacks of paper in front of me to him.
“This is the kind of work I’ve been waiting for from you. Keep it up.”
This is what I’ve been striving for, and I’m surprised by how much it means to have my dad’s approval and praise on this. I worked hard, despite being a little distracted for a couple of weeks. This proves, not only to my father, but to myself, that I can do this. I can take over this company and make my father proud.
“I can’t take full credit for it. Amalie was a big help.”
He sits up straighter. “Oh? In what way?”
“Revamping the spa services. The best suggestions are hers.”
My father smiles. “Well, I’ll have to send her a thank-you for that.”
“I could do that.” What am I thinking, telling my dad about her involvement?
“You don’t need to worry about that. Just have Ursula organize it. Maybe Amalie would like some services at one of the New York hotels.”
“That would be perfect. I could include Ruby. They could go together.”
“Excellent idea. I feel bad for that poor girl. Your cousin’s behavior has been unconscionable. Your mother is just disgusted with the whole thing.”
“Is Mom okay?” The stress of this would be bad for her emotionally and physically. I spoke to her at least every other day while I was away, but my mother is very good at covering things when she needs to. It’s how she made it through the cancer scare with very few people being aware.
My father drums on the desk. “She’s not talking to Gwendolyn right now, which, between us, isn’t a bad thing, but it’s upsetting your mother and I don’t know what to do about it.”
My father has never been a fan of my aunt, but he tolerates her because he loves my mother. Despite the love-hate relationship my mother has with her sister, she’s always been close to her, as close as she can get, anyway.
“I’d planned to stop by and see Mom this afternoon.”
“I suspected you would. She’s missed you, as she does.” The tapping resumes. “I would never say this to your brothers, and she would never in a million years admit it, but if there was a favorite . . .” He lets it hang before he switches gears. “She’ll be free this afternoon. She always tells you things she won’t tell anyone else. Take the afternoon off and spend some time with her, that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
I gather my things and call my mother, who’s ecstatic to have me home and can’t wait to see me. I’m not exactly a momma’s boy, but she and I have always been close. When I was younger and got into trouble—which happened most when I was around Armstrong—she was always the one to come to my defense. I think she felt some level of responsibility for always throwing us together, even though we didn’t always get along.
Since my mother won’t be available for a while and the jet lag is starting to catch up with me, I pack my bag, tell my assistant I’m leaving for the day, and head out. I need some coffee if I’m going to make it through this day.
There’s a nice little café a couple of blocks down and the walk will do me good. I can stop and grab a bite to eat before I call the car. The café is busy, the smell of fresh-baked bread and coffee making my stomach rumble and my mouth water. I join the line, pull out my phone, and check emails out of habit. There are fifteen new ones since I left the office. I review them as the line inches forward, slipping the phone back into my pocket when I reach the counter.
“Hi, Jennie.”
“Lex! It’s been forever! Have you been somewhere warm? You’re so tanned!” She’s in her early twenties with dreads and more piercings than I can count. I like that she doesn’t treat me differently than the bearded hipsters.
“Away on business. Nothing like a beach and a laptop.” I wink.
“So jealous, except the laptop part. The usual?”
“That’d be great. Double espresso, I need the caffeine today, and the Coronation Chicken wrap with the soup of the day, please.”
“Good call. The coconut pumpkin curry is to die for.”
Instead of coming home when I was finished working on the Bora Bora projects the week after Amie left, I took it upon myself to head to California, with my father’s permission. I spent an additional three weeks planning a similar overhaul to the spa services department there, emulating closely the changes we made in Bora Bora, thanks to Amie’s suggestions.
I haven’t heard from her since she left. Nothing. Not a single text. I figured she’d at least message to let me know she made it home. But it’s been silence since she walked away from me in the airport.
It should be a good thing. We agreed that what happened between us would stay in Bora Bora. It’s far too complicated to bring it back here. She’s fragile. But during the time we spent together it felt like more than just sex and distractions, and that’s not her fault. It’s mine. These are the things I keep telling myself every time I compose a message to ask how she is. I delete it before I give in to the urge to send it. I can’t delete her contact though, even if I should.
If things were different, then maybe . . . but they’re not.
And now that I’m home, back in the same city she is, all those what-ifs are clawing their way to the surface of the mental grave I buried them in.
“So what’s next?”
“You should take a few days off. You deserve it.”
I nearly fall out of my chair. That’s huge coming from my father. But I can’t do that right now. I need to get out of my head. I need something to focus on that isn’t Amie. “I just spent the better part of two months by the ocean, I’m good. I just want to get back to work.”
He’s silent for a few moments, possibly shocked. I’m usually the first one to jump on the chance for a few days of sweet fuck all. “Griffin and Bancroft are working on the New York hotel renovations. Would you like to consult with them about the spa service upgrades you’re proposing in Bora Bora and California and see if anything would work here? I’m sure Bancroft would be happy to have the help with Griffin heading to Asia in a few weeks.”
“I can do that. What about an independent project after that?”
The tapping starts again. “Everything okay with you and your brothers?”
“Everything’s fine.” I’m just worried Bane is going to pick up on things I don’t want him to. We talked regularly while Amie was in Bora Bora, mostly him checking up on me, making sure I wasn’t doing things I shouldn’t, even though I was.
“Give me a couple of days, I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Dad.” I gather up the folders, already mentally reviewing what I think will transfer seamlessly from the Bora Bora hotels to New York.
“Lexington.”
I shift my gaze from the stacks of paper in front of me to him.
“This is the kind of work I’ve been waiting for from you. Keep it up.”
This is what I’ve been striving for, and I’m surprised by how much it means to have my dad’s approval and praise on this. I worked hard, despite being a little distracted for a couple of weeks. This proves, not only to my father, but to myself, that I can do this. I can take over this company and make my father proud.
“I can’t take full credit for it. Amalie was a big help.”
He sits up straighter. “Oh? In what way?”
“Revamping the spa services. The best suggestions are hers.”
My father smiles. “Well, I’ll have to send her a thank-you for that.”
“I could do that.” What am I thinking, telling my dad about her involvement?
“You don’t need to worry about that. Just have Ursula organize it. Maybe Amalie would like some services at one of the New York hotels.”
“That would be perfect. I could include Ruby. They could go together.”
“Excellent idea. I feel bad for that poor girl. Your cousin’s behavior has been unconscionable. Your mother is just disgusted with the whole thing.”
“Is Mom okay?” The stress of this would be bad for her emotionally and physically. I spoke to her at least every other day while I was away, but my mother is very good at covering things when she needs to. It’s how she made it through the cancer scare with very few people being aware.
My father drums on the desk. “She’s not talking to Gwendolyn right now, which, between us, isn’t a bad thing, but it’s upsetting your mother and I don’t know what to do about it.”
My father has never been a fan of my aunt, but he tolerates her because he loves my mother. Despite the love-hate relationship my mother has with her sister, she’s always been close to her, as close as she can get, anyway.
“I’d planned to stop by and see Mom this afternoon.”
“I suspected you would. She’s missed you, as she does.” The tapping resumes. “I would never say this to your brothers, and she would never in a million years admit it, but if there was a favorite . . .” He lets it hang before he switches gears. “She’ll be free this afternoon. She always tells you things she won’t tell anyone else. Take the afternoon off and spend some time with her, that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
I gather my things and call my mother, who’s ecstatic to have me home and can’t wait to see me. I’m not exactly a momma’s boy, but she and I have always been close. When I was younger and got into trouble—which happened most when I was around Armstrong—she was always the one to come to my defense. I think she felt some level of responsibility for always throwing us together, even though we didn’t always get along.
Since my mother won’t be available for a while and the jet lag is starting to catch up with me, I pack my bag, tell my assistant I’m leaving for the day, and head out. I need some coffee if I’m going to make it through this day.
There’s a nice little café a couple of blocks down and the walk will do me good. I can stop and grab a bite to eat before I call the car. The café is busy, the smell of fresh-baked bread and coffee making my stomach rumble and my mouth water. I join the line, pull out my phone, and check emails out of habit. There are fifteen new ones since I left the office. I review them as the line inches forward, slipping the phone back into my pocket when I reach the counter.
“Hi, Jennie.”
“Lex! It’s been forever! Have you been somewhere warm? You’re so tanned!” She’s in her early twenties with dreads and more piercings than I can count. I like that she doesn’t treat me differently than the bearded hipsters.
“Away on business. Nothing like a beach and a laptop.” I wink.
“So jealous, except the laptop part. The usual?”
“That’d be great. Double espresso, I need the caffeine today, and the Coronation Chicken wrap with the soup of the day, please.”
“Good call. The coconut pumpkin curry is to die for.”
