Page 6 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

Pulling out my phone, I say, “Sure, honey. Say cheese…”

***

It’s the last time we went to the beach as a family. Less than a year after that picture was taken, Maddie passed away.

Michelle has since become a shadow of herself. The once cheerful six-year-old has grown into a brooding ten-year-old.

I know that it’s not her fault. I miss Maddie, too. Not hearing her hum her way to the kitchen for all these years has been a pill I’ve had to swallow every morning.

There’s a brief knock on the door, and the pained smile on my face vanishes. The door swings open almost immediately.

Well, that was fast.

The Assistant from earlier, Ms. Summers – or was her name Chloe? – stands steadfast in the doorway. Gone is the offending yellow monstrosity she unleashed upon the world earlier. In its place is a black blazer, white blouse, and black skirt that teases just above her knees. This is more like it, an upgrade from that colorful jumble.

Her curly blonde hair is packed and tucked to one shoulder. She presses her lips together and looks me in the eye, a silent challenge hanging in the air. I nod curtly. She’s bold, I’ll give her that, despite her terrible sense of fashion. As a subtle irritation brews within me, I also feel a familiar tightening in my chest.

Focus, Daniel. Now is not the time for distractions.

“Good. You’re back.”

The words come out clipped. She swallows visibly as she raises her notepad to jot down notes.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding earlier,” she says.

They always say the same thing. Then, they proceed to show their brazen ineptitude.

“There’s a lot you have to catch up on,” I warn. “Are you familiar with the Nexus Convention?”

“The tech event?”

I narrow my eyes and stare at her. Oh, boy. Please tell me she knows what I’m talking about. Otherwise, this is going to be the end of it.

“Yes,” she says, smiling.

Phew! But somehow, I feel like this is going to be a pretty long day.

“The first thing you’ll need to remember is that a cup of coffee should be on my desk every morning. I’m in by 8:00 AM.”

She nods. The smile on her face now looks forced. Still, I can’t help but notice its beauty. The shade of pink lipstick on her lips stands out, not too bright, just enough to accentuate the shape.

My phone buzzes on my desk with a reminder alerting me to the upcoming Nexus meeting where we’ll review the high-level agendas for each day of the convention. I turn to the pile of documents scattered around one corner of my desk. I have yet to make any sense of them after Dianne’s departure. Meanwhile, the folders on the opposite side of my desk contain blueprint sketches, media segment outlines, and the whole lot which is slated to be reviewed at the next Nexus meeting.

A shadowy figure moves in my peripheral vision. I look up. She’s still standing there, her hand tucked behind her.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I—”

“Coffee, Ms. Summers?”

She raises her hand, her mouth opening then closing, as if attempting to say something.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” I ask. “There’s a coffeemaker down the hall.”

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Black.”

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