Page 15 of Their Stolen Kisses
“Coffee for you, too?” I asked, trying to be casual. Chloe didn’t need to know she had interrupted a conversation that meant as much to me as my position of CEO.
“I’m glad you were talking to her. I could tell something was up all day, but I didn’t feel like I should ask.”
“We didn’t talk about much. It was just polite conversation…” I trailed off, quailing under Chloe’s disapproving glare.
“Please. I heard you talking outside. If you want to be secretive, talk more quietly.”
I could keep denying it. If I did, Chloe would politely - though irritatedly - stop bugging me about it and pretend she’d never heard anything. She was discreet like that. But… maybe this was a good thing. Maybe Chloe had walked in at just the right time. Discretion worked in all sorts of ways.
“Okay… fine. I’m a little worried about her and this situation with her mother. She helped me out a lot by being flexible when I needed a nanny unexpectedly, and Noah likes her very much.”
“I have reports to compile,” Chloe sighed with resignation. “What can I do to help?”
“Will you look into the situation with Diana’s mortgage? She doesn’t want to talk about exactly how much it is or how much she owes.”
The look my executive assistant gave me said clearly: “What are you going to do with that information?” but she just nodded. “I canprobablydo that. Personal financial information isn’t usually easy to acquire, so it might take me a few days.”
“No rush.” The tone of my voice said the opposite. “Thanks, Chloe. Really.”
“As long as this will make you happy.” Chloe took her cup of coffee and herself out of the break room.
I sat a heavily in a chair, finally unpacking my lunch. Her words reminded me that no matter how coarse or blunt Chloe spoke or acted, she still genuinely cared for me as a friend and wanted me to be happy. She was even willing to take time away from her other work to handle a personal request. What would I do without her?
Start eating lunch five minutes earlier.Suddenly ravenous, I dug into one of my sandwiches. Maybe Noah had a future as a professional chef because this was the best sandwich I’d ever tasted. Or... maybe it was a secret ingredient that only a father and son could add. Love, contentment, happiness… something like that.
Either way, I needed to start bringing lunch to work more often. When I did, I could eat food made by me and my son, stay inside out of the cold, and…
I might see Diana again.
