Page 77 of Off Limits

Danica

“THESE PLANS ALL need to be reviewed by Jean-Luc,” says Cynthia, dumping a stack of folders in my arms. In the year that I’ve been interning at Kearns & Rochat, Cynthia has become a friend, even though I maintain that she’s far too glamorous to hang out with me. “Drinks later?” she adds, as I turn to walk to the door.

“Sure,” I say with a smile. It’s only been a couple of months since my nineteenth birthday, and it’s still a thrill to order drinks in a bar. Cynthia and I have been going out after work about once a week ever since I became old enough to drink.

It’s nice to have a friend—someone who actually likes me. With Cynthia, I can be myself. She never judges me or turns cruel.

I haven’t spoken a word to Christine, or anyone else from high school, since the day of our final exam. For a while, Kye was bugging me on social media, but now I’ve deleted all my accounts. Maybe it’s strange to say, for a nineteen year old with no social media accounts or friends my age to speak of, but…I feel happy.

My steps are light as I walk down the elegant, silent hallway of Kearns & Rochat towards Jean-Luc’s office. I received my acceptance letter to the University of British Columbia’s Architecture program yesterday, and I still can’t believe that I’ll be starting school in just a few weeks. It feels like I have everything I’ve ever wanted: a friend and a soon-to-be career, a future, and, of course, the love of my life…

I knock briefly on Jean-Luc’s door before opening it, and he lifts his head to greet me with a smile. “Hello, sweetheart,” he says warmly.

“Hi, boss.” For just a minute, I want to linger in the doorway and watch him. He’s beautiful—my love, my man. His jacket is hanging over the back of his chair and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing thick, muscular forearms and his treasured silver watch. His eyes glint warmly at me, deep chocolate brown, and I can barely see the cleft in his chin since he’s been keeping a trim beard—but I know it’s there. “These are all for review.” I drop the folders on a corner of his desk and turn to leave.

“Hey, wait, hang on,” he calls. “What’s the rush? Don’t you have a kiss for your boss?”

I smile indulgently as I walk over to him, remembering the role-play we acted out in this very office last night. He turns in his chair and takes my hips in his hands, leaning up to kiss me.

“I’m going to miss having you around all day,” he says in a low voice, running his hands over my skirt until he’s cupping my ass.

“You can still have as much of me as you like at night.” I smile.

He groans. “Oh, but I can never get enough of you.”

“It’s only four years, Jean-Luc.” Tenderly, I run my fingers into his hair, pushing a lock back off his forehead.

“Yes. And then you’ll be here during the day and I won’t have you at night while you’re doing your Masters degree.” Jean-Luc has promised to hire me at the firm once I get my architecture degree.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“And then when Bob retires you’ll take his place as partner here, and Kearns & Rochat will become Rochat & Rochat,” he continues.

I smile curiously, cocking my head. “Rochat & Rochat? You mean Rochat & Holland?” It’s a little fantasy we’ve talked about a lot, running the firm together as partners, in a dream future where I’m an architect, too.

“No.” He shakes his head with a small smile. ”Because after we’re married I’m hoping you’ll drop your mother’s name and take mine.”

Heat blooms on my cheeks. That’s something we’ve talked about too, getting married, but it seems like such an impossibly perfect dream I almost don’t dare hope for it.

This time, I swallow my fears, and talk about another dream I almost don’t dare hope for. “And then, when there are little Rochats running around it will be very clear we’re all a family.”

“That’s right,” he smiles. “Little Rochats,” he repeats dreamily.

I always wanted my last name to be Rochat when I was growing up so that people would think Jean-Luc was my real father. Now I want it to show I belong to him in a different way. I never really was a Holland, anyway—what significance does my mother’s name have for me?

“Then when they grow up the firm will be called Rochat, Rochat, Rochat, Rochat, Rochat & Rochat,” I grin.

“Wait a minute,” he laughs. “Just how many children are you planning on having?”

“As many as you’ll give me.”

“Funny girl,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose.

“But when you’re a daddy, Jean-Luc…will you still be my Daddy?”

He growls, pulling me towards him. “Little girl, I’ll always be your Daddy,” he murmurs. “Don’t you forget it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

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