Page 12 of P.S. You're Intolerable

I would have been surprised if she’d said she did since her background check hadn’t turned up a marriage. But a lot could change in a little time, so anything was possible.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Same answer.”

For the second time, I was taken aback. The background checkhadrevealed Catherine owned a house in Denver and lived with her partner. Whether they were still together was none of my business, and I was certain she’d tell me exactly that if I asked.

“Do you have a plan?” I pressed.

“You don’t have to worry about my plans, Elliot.”

“I do if it affects your work. Is this”—I outlined the shape of her stomach in the air in front of me—“going to slow you down?”

“Again, are you allowed to ask me that?”

With a heavy sigh, I scrubbed my jaw. This woman was stonewalling me, as always. If she weren’t so fucking efficient while also being unobtrusive and easygoing, I would have fired her for this trait alone.

“Whether I am or not is irrelevant. I’m asking. I need to know what to expect, or I’ll be thinking about it when I should be thinking about far more important things. So, tell me, will your ability to do this job be impaired?”

“No, it hasn’t been so far. You didn’t even notice my pregnancy, did you?”

I didn’t appreciate being called out on my lack of attention to detail. “You wear black most days.”

That, I had noticed. Catherine, in black, at her desk. Catherine, in black, sitting across from me, taking notes. Catherine, in black, meeting me in a hotel lobby. Catherine, in black, curls escaping her sleek ponytail.

My vision had been tunneled by design. Early on in my career, I’d learned not to mix personal with professional. I chose not to focus on the shape of my employees, specifically my assistant.

Catherine grinned, seemingly pleased to have gotten one over on me. “That’s true, but my point is, I’ve handled everything you’ve thrown at me just fine. I’ve never been more pregnant than I am right now so I can’t say for sure, but I predict my ability to assist you won’t be impacted.”

My brow winged. “And if I need to fly to Dubai next month? Will you be able to come with me?”

Her shoulders slumped. “No. I suppose you have me there. As exciting as an airplane birth sounds, my flying days are numbered.”

“An airplane birth sounds exciting to you?”

“No.” She rested a hand on top of her stomach. “Nothing about birth sounds exciting to me, but I’ve almost accepted I must do it.”

“You might have considered the whole birth process before deciding to get pregnant.”

She blew out a puff of air. “Not everyone plans things as thoroughly as you, Elliot. Sometimes they just…happen.”

“I find that’s not true.”

Her eyes half rolled before she caught herself and directed them to a spot over my shoulder.

“I guess I’m not as disciplined as you.”

“Not many are,” I agreed. “When can I expect a replacement to bumble into my life?”

“Are you asking how far along I am?”

I canted my head. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to ask things like that.”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

I opened my hands in my lap. “If it will get me the answer to my question, then yes, I’m asking how far along you are.”

“Thirty-two weeks.”

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