Page 86 of Without Apology

CHAPTER THIRTY

Simon

I’d missed two calls from Tom on Sunday while I was with Peyton, but he hadn’t left a message. When I sent him a text that night, he simply texted in reply that he’d talk to me tomorrow. Fine by me. Now it was Monday morning, and at eight o’clock I was on my way to the office, having pulled myself away from Peyton early enough to go back to my temporary apartment, shower, and change into a fresh suit.

Luckily, we’d taken a break yesterday and been dressed in time for me to meet her nieces when they’d dropped off Cooper in the afternoon. I’d even managed to convince them I knew who the hell Peppa the Pig was simply because we were all British. I’d have to get Emma to help me find something piggish by Friday night since we’d been invited for a do-over dinner then at Peyton’s sister’s house.

I was hell-bent not to let work interfere this time. But first I needed to patch things up with my assistant. Not that Emma would ever let on, but she had a fragile heart under her tough exterior, and on Saturday night I’d taken out my frustration on her. Although we maintained a professional working relationship, she was one of the most important people in my life on a personal level, too.

“Hi,” I greeted when I stepped into the office. She was here earlier than usual.

“Hello.” She looked up and then paused when she noticed the box in my hands. “What is that?”

“This is a half dozen macadamia nut cinnamon rolls.” Although she might watch her carbs, I knew this was one of her few weaknesses.

She expelled a breath. “You apologize by trying to get me fat?”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing because she’d already taken the box from my hands and opened the lid. The smell was divine.

“Good Lord. My extra gym time may be worth it. How did things work out for you on Saturday night?”

“Better than I deserved.”

“Good. Now take one of these before I inhale them all. But do not, I repeat, do not let Tom get any. I will chop off his hand if he so much as touches one. He is not worthy.”

I chuckled. “Understood. And thank you.”

She swallowed hard. Neither one of us was comfortable with the mushy stuff. But she meant a lot to me, and though I might not be able to apologize, I could still be grateful.

“You’re fucking welcome,” she snapped. “Now leave before I make us both uncomfortable by acting like a girl.”

I nabbed a roll and went into my office. I was in a good mood until Tom arrived an hour later, inviting himself into my office first thing.

“I tried to reach you yesterday,” he declared.

“I was busy. And I texted you back.”

He frowned. “You’re busy a lot lately.”

“Yes, I am. Which begs the question why you’re wasting my time right now with inane conversation.”

He flushed red, hating when I put him in his place. “Fine. Wanted to let you know I’m handling the second look at all of the manual spreadsheets.”

“Good.” In other words, he was actually doing his job. “Continue to handle it. So long as it isn’t anything that will jeopardize the sale, there is no reason for you to bother me with it.”

I was tired of having to micromanage him. Time for him to step up to the plate and figure out some things for himself. He was the accountant in charge of the numbers. I didn’t intend to lose any more valuable time with Peyton or miss events simply because I had to do his job, too.

Emma came in, pointedly ignoring Tom as she often did. “Sorry to interrupt, but George just rang. He’s coming in this afternoon to make the announcement about CFO. He wanted me to ensure that Peyton will be there. I’m assuming that means she got the promotion?”

I had to school my features into mild disinterest rather than match Emma’s smile. “Yes. Phillip mentioned he thought they’d make that decision and inform us later today. He must’ve rang George first.”

Tom was instantly agitated. “Seriously? They picked her over the guy from JP Morgan? Unbelievable.”

“It appears they did.”

“It’ll be all well and good until she starts popping out babies and needs to take maternity leave or rush home for pageants and baseball games. We wouldn’t have that issue with the other candidates.”

“You’re such a misogynist pig,” Emma commented, not at all wrong in her assessment.

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