Page 53 of Think Outside the Boss

He lies back on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling. “She said I was one of her favorite people in class the other day.”

“Did she? Joshua, that’s awesome.”

“Yes,” he says, kicking one of his legs up in the air. “But she also said Maria was one of her favorites. And Turner and Dexter.”

I put my hand in front of my mouth to hide my grin. “Mhm.”

“So I’m not the only one.” He screws his eyes shut. “Dad, we can’t talk about this right now. I have to prepare for my test.”

“All right, all right. I was just curious.”

“You’re always curious,” he accuses me, and now I have to laugh. That’s what I’ve told him for years, right after he’s asked me a string of fifteen increasingly impossible-to-answer questions.

“I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” he says. “We’ll talk at dinner.”

It’s such a teenage thing to say that I’m still chuckling to myself when I return to the living room. The smell of Marianne’s lasagna drifts from the kitchen, meat and tomatoes and cheese.

My hand goes to my pocket. My phone. My musings. Without Joshua to distract me, my mind finds its way back to Freddie and the wound of last night. I know there’s only one way to quell the jealousy simmering inside of me.

I shouldn’t, of course. I could write a book about all the reasons why interacting with Frederica Bilson won’t end well. Not only is she a trainee, but she’s a hungry one, with her eyes set on forging a career of her own. And I’m not the young man I was before Jenny and Michael’s accident, when relationships were easy and fun.

And yet, the jealousy burns on.

When Joshua has gone to bed, I dial the now familiar number.

She picks up after four eternity-long signals. “Hello.”

“Freddie.”

“I don’t have any more information on the mole in the Strategy Department,” she informs me.

I blow out a breath, amused despite myself. “No, I didn’t expect you would.”

“All right, then.” The question hangs in the abrasive silence. What are you calling for, Mr. Conway?

“How are you?”

“I’m good,” she says. “I’ve had a relaxing weekend.”

My teeth grit at the word relaxing. “Meet me at the deli down the street?”

“Sorry?”

“Turns out those sandwiches were some of the best in the city after all. I’m craving one.”

“Why?”

“I’m hungry,” I say. I’m not.

“Mr. Conway…”

“Meet me, Freddie.”

“I just got back home and I’ve been out all day.”

It’s not a no, but it’s not a yes, either. “Then you must be hungry. If I remember correctly, pastrami is your favorite.”

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