Page 66 of Without Apology

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Peyton

After my conference call finished, Megan’s instant message popped up, making me grin.

“I’m so ready for happy hour. Meet you at O’Grady’s?”

“You’re pregnant. How ready for happy hour can you be?”

“I will live vicariously through you. You’ll have to drink for two.”

“In that case prepare for liver damage tonight. See you soon.”

We had a standing happy hour every other Tuesday. Since I’d hardly seen her over the last couple of weeks, being so wrapped up in everything audit, I was looking forward to some girls’ time.

Especially after Simon’s little visit. As if I shouldn’t take it personally that he was interviewing my employees to see if they were worthy of keeping their jobs. Yeah, right. However, he did have a point. All of them worked hard, so with my recommendations and their prior reviews, they should all be fine. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known this was coming, so to be upset with him for doing his job was a bit unfair.

But the real reason I could use a drink tonight was because I’d had to struggle to keep things professional with him once he’d closed my door. I’d admitted to wanting to do unprofessional things, and he’d reminded me of the rules. No shenanigans. Who even said that?

I’d hidden my disappointment by messing with him over his neatness. That had been kind of fun, to be honest. At least it had kept me from asking why he hadn’t sent me a text yesterday. Or if he’d missed me the same way I missed him. After twenty-four hours, it was ridiculous, but I had. But the whole interaction in my office had felt like part of a test. He was gauging whether or not I could handle a professional aspect to our relationship. I hadn’t wanted to fail.

I sent a quick text to my brother-in-law, who assured me he’d already let out Cooper. I replied that I’d see him Saturday; I was already looking forward to spending the time with my family.

Megan was at the bar when I arrived. I gave her a hug and slid into the seat next to her, thinking it funny to see a very pregnant woman literally bellied up to the bar.

“Long week for you. You doing okay?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes. Better now. How about you? How’s the baby?”

She practically beamed. “Getting big. Making me pee a lot and breathe like a fat kid every time I walk up the stairs. I actually had to take a break while going up the one flight to my bedroom last night.”

I laughed at her description and then ordered my whiskey on the rocks with a beer chaser.

“So, it’s official. George is selling the company.”

I was relieved it was finally out in the open. “Yep.” I sipped on my beer, needing this.

“What was up with that asshole during the announcement in the main room?”

I tensed, hoping she didn’t mean Simon. He’d stayed silent during George’s speech, not showing any emotion when the announcement had been made. But why would he? He’d been through dozens of these things.

“Tom. Was that his name?”

I let out a breath, relieved she hadn’t been referring to Simon. “Yeah. What did he do?”

“Evelyn asked him if the meetings George mentioned were actually interviews to keep our jobs. The asshole looked at her all condescending and told her if she wasn’t smart enough to figure that out for herself, perhaps they could dispense with having to meet with her.”

“What a dick.” I instantly wanted to tell Simon but knew that if it wasn’t for our ‘relationship,’ I wouldn’t bother.

“I wanted to march over there and just—well, mess up his hair or something which wouldn’t get me arrested,” Megan finished.

“Ha.” I clinked my drink with her glass of soda water. “You’ve come a long way, my friend. Already thinking like a parent.”

When she’d reported to Jeff, she’d been ready to murder him on a daily basis.

“I don’t need anything to highlight me for termination. As for assault, I doubt they allow conjugal visits five times per week. It’s always kept me on the right side of the law.”

“You have sex five times a week?” My jaw hung open. Most couples I knew who’d been together for years relegated sex to weekends and special occasions.

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