Page 92 of Mr. Hotshot CEO
“Vince.” Dad gives him a look. “What’s wrong with you? Are you on drugs?”
“Nothing more than the occasional joint,” he says cheerfully.
Vince and I need to have a proper conversation later when I’m not at work, though it’s practically impossible to have a proper conversation with him these days.
“Right,” Dad says. “Of course.”
My father is a very successful businessman, with a presence to match, but he’s actually rather soft-spoken. Yet when he talks, people listen.
Except for me and my brothers. We rarely listened when we were young, but now, I value my father’s opinion, and he needs to get me up to speed on what’s happened in the past two weeks.
“Alright,” I say. “Vince, Priya, party’s over. Vince, go home and sleep.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I gesture to the door. “Out. We have work to do.”
They finally retreat.
I sit down behind my desk, and Dad takes the seat across from me.
“How do you like being back in the office?” I ask him.
“It’s a nice change. Playing golf every day gets boring after a while.” He pauses. “How was your vacation, aside from the getting-a-girlfriend part?”
I can’t separate Courtney from my vacation. She was an important part of it.
But I haven’t had a headache in more than a week, I’ve been sleeping better, and I’m not nearly as tense. I feel well-rested and re-energized. Ready to take on the world.
“I hate to admit I was wrong,” I say, “but I was. I did need a holiday. And I also learned a thing or two about work-life balance.”
Dad chuckles. “It’s important. Now, when am I going to meet your new girlfriend?”
“Soon,” I promise.
* * *
Idon’t see Courtneyon Monday or Tuesday. She wants to spend a few nights in her apartment, and I’m working my usual days—thirteen hours or more. I tell myself I won’t keep this up and it’s just because I’ve been away for more than two weeks. Plus, our text messages provide a nice distraction.
On Wednesday, I leave work at six thirty, and she comes to my place for dinner. Takeout this time, rather than a three-course meal I cooked from scratch. She smiles and talks about her day, telling me briefly about her experiments and the antics of her friend Bethany’s toddler.
Still, I have this feeling, like when we were on Mont Royal and the sky darkened, that something bad is coming. Except when we were in Montreal, nothing bad ended up happening. It rained, we kissed, and I realized I love her. That’s all.
Nothing bad will happen now, either. I asked her to be with me, and she said yes. Life is good.
I haven’t told Courtney I love her. I think it’s a little early to say it out loud, so I settle for sending her long strings of heart emojis instead.
But I’ll tell her soon.
