Page 16 of Scrooge

“Alex?” she questions, tilting her head, her eyes narrowing. She seems like a nice lady, older, a bit mom like.

“Yes. I want to give him these and to thank him for chatting with me over the weekend,” I tell her, and she looks perplexed.

“Are they sunflowers?” she asks with an inquisitive look in her eyes.

“Yes. They are the best flower to brighten someone’s day.” I repeat my father’s mantra. He gets my mom sunflowers every few weeks. It is a great way to keep the love alive, if you ask me. Angela’s eyes flare in surprise.

“He doesn’t see anyone without an appointment,” she says, but I can see her hesitating.

“Would you at least ask if he will see me? Just tell him Haylee with twoE’s is here for him. He will know who it is.”

“Haylee with twoE’s?” Her face softens as she confirms my name.

“That’s me.” I smile, feeling like a fish out of water. She walks a few paces to her desk and picks up her phone.Holy shit, she’s doing it.I’m in.

It is sparse, stark white, and cold up here, but even without any fancy décor taking up the space, I know the finishes are quality as they glimmer beneath the overhead lighting. A meeting room is off to the side, full glass walls, a boardroom table beyond it, and a large glossy black door slightly down the hall that is closed, which I assume is his office. Stepping closer to the floor-to-ceiling windows, I start to feel a little woozy. We are really high up and there’s no one or nothing else up here.

“Mr. Jackson, there is a Haylee with twoE’s here to see you,” Angela says, watching me. I swallow as I look back at her, and her eyebrows rise. “Yes, sir,” she says before hanging up the phone.

“Well, right this way.” She sounds a bit too surprised, and I follow her like a pig to slaughter. Her shiny black stilettos click on the polished marble floor, the echo making me feel like the end is coming.

“You could do with a bit of color in here,” I murmur to her.

“It would be nice,” she agrees with a small grin, still looking at me inquisitively, obviously trying to figure out who I am.

We get to the large door and stop. This is stupid. Why am I even doing this? I start to hesitate, my palms sweating and my hands slipping on the cheap plastic surrounding this stupid bunch of sunflowers. But before I can back out, she knocks.

“Enter.” I hear his voice on the other side, and my mouth dries.

“Haylee’s here to see you.” As Angela opens the door, I look beyond her and get a glimpse of his office—all natural light with huge city skyline views. I try to swallow my nerves as I walk inside. Might as well get this over with.

“Thank you, Angela,” he says formally, rising to stand at the side of his desk. The door clicks behind me as Angela leaves, and I look around. This office is huge. Almost bigger than the entire Tucker store. But it still feels empty. There are no photos, no trinkets, no color. It’s lifeless.

“I don’t usually take visitors.” He crosses his arms and leans against his desk, assessing me. I don’t falter as I look back at him.

“Hi, Alex. Good to see you too,” I say with sarcasm and internally cringe.I need to be nice. I need to be nice.

With a sigh, he drops his hands, one sliding into his pocket, the other tapping on his desk. “What can I do for you?” he asks, not showing any hint of amusement. Apparently, we are back to scowls and short words.

“I brought you some sunflowers,” I blurt, thrusting the bouquet toward him.Could I be any more awkward?

“Sunflowers?” He frowns, my arm remaining outstretched while he stands rigid. His fingers stop tapping as he looks at the flowers like they are the oddest thing he has ever seen.

“Yes. They are the best flower to brighten anyone’s day,” I repeat the mantra once again and smile, stepping closer and lifting the bouquet like a peace offering. I have never given a man flowers before. I’m not even sure if men actually accept them, and now as my hand stays outreached, and he doesn’t move an inch to take them, I feel my cheeks heat and the deep need to pull at my ear is almost debilitating. But I refrain.

“What did you just say?” he asks, the question leaving his mouth quietly, and I notice his face looks conflicted. It has me hesitating.

“Ahh, they are the best flowers to brighten anyone’s day… I mean, I could have brought the bag of dicks, but Deloris pretty much confiscated them all,” I add as I try to break this awkward tension. His face softens a little at that, his lips curving the slightest bit, and I smile wide. He almost smiled, and I know when he does that, it will be enough to break hearts.

“I’ll just put them here.” Laying the flowers on his desk, I spot his computer and cell, lots of paperwork, and what looks to be an expensive pen that I imagine he signs important documents with. I wonder what his signature looks like.

“Anything else?” he asks, and I look back at him quickly before I steel myself.

“Yes,” I say, nodding, keeping my shoulders back and taking another breath.

“There always is.” He sounds resigned, and I suddenly feel bad that I am about to beg him not to take our store. But as I take another look around at his expensive office, the lush lounge armchairs that look like they have never been used, the bar in the corner filled with whiskey, any semblance of guilt falls to the wayside. Especially once I spot a label that looks like Whiteman’s and roll my eyes. That shit is ridiculously expensive.

Ready to tell him exactly what I need, my eyes settle back on his desk. It is large, mahogany, and just like my dad’s. Brow furrowing, I step forward to touch it.

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