Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED ME TO DO
Connor
“Mr. Driskill will see you now, Mr. Vining.”
“Bethany, I thought we were on a first name basis,” I say with a wink as I rise from my seat. Outside his door, I take in a deep breath and straighten my spine before stepping into my boss’ office.
Six weeks post break-up, Lauren’s dad finally had an opening in his schedule and I swooped in to grab it.
Lauren has continued to reach out to me every couple of days and I still haven’t responded. She could barricade herself in my office at any time and demand that I talk to her and I wouldn’t blame her one bit if she did.
“Connor, have a seat,” Mr. Driskill’s imposing voice commands my attention. “ Have a seat, son” was the norm for the better part of the past two years, but I’ve lost the right to that title.
“Good morning, sir.” I drop into the chair across from him.
He spends a few moments wrapping something up on his computer before he turns to me. “Sorry about that,” he says as he clasps his hands on his desk. “You wanted to meet with me? ”
“Uh, yes. Well…” I fidget in my seat. “I know things around the office have changed recently and um…” I pause to gauge his expression, but he remains unreadable. “Anyway, I felt it right to touch base and assure you that it won’t interfere with my work.”
He rubs a hand along his jaw. A moment later, he opens his mouth to speak at the same time my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. With my thigh pressed up against the wooden arm of the chair, the incessant buzz sounds more like a rapidly pulsing freight train.
Quickly, I reach blindly into my pocket and send the call to voicemail.
Mr. Driskill flashes his eyes briefly to the hand in my pocket, ensuring the interruption has been dealt with before he says, “Yes, we do find ourselves in an interesting situation here, don’t we? I appreciate your efforts to try and minimize the fallout, but I’m not?—”
My pocket buzzes again.
“I’m so sorry!” I send the call to voicemail once more and shift my body so that my phone is no longer wedged against the arm of the chair.
“As I was saying,” he continues, “I’m not sure coming to me was the answer.”
“Sir?”
“Connor, you’re a damn good graphic designer. Probably the best one I’ve got. As your boss, I like you. So much, in fact, that when you started dating my daughter, I didn’t have the slightest bit of concern.”
My gut churns, uneasiness settling in, but I don’t let myself look away. I have to face this head on.
“It’s none of my business what happened between the two of you.
I’ll tell you the same thing I told her.
As it relates to this company, frankly, it’s best I don’t know the details.
You’re both grown adults and relationships get messy and complicated sometimes.
As the CEO of this company, I cannot let personal matters affect business operations. ”
The slightest wave of relief hits me until he goes on .
“That said, I’ll shoot straight with you.”
I shift in my seat. “Okay.”
“As your boss, I like you. As my little girl’s father, I’m not your biggest fan right now.” The words sting on impact, but I can’t fault his candor.
“I respect that, sir.”
“Alright then. So, things might be weird around here for a little while, but people go through stuff, they hurt, they grieve and, with time, they move on.”
Thankfully, I don’t sense any blame or ridicule in his voice, but that doesn’t relieve the guilt I feel for hurting Lauren.
“That’s fair,” I say before rising to my feet. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for meeting with me.”
We exchange a quick handshake on my way out the door.
Passing Bethany’s desk, I pull out my phone and see two missed calls from Drew. There’s no voicemail, but he sent a text message.
Drew
Emergency. Call me!
My heart labors. Drew and Gretchen leave for their trip today, but the word emergency has panic flipping my stomach on its head as I jog back to my office. I press the call button the second I cross the threshold and the phone’s already to my ear when I shut the door behind me.
Less than half a ring later, Drew picks up. “Connor! Thanks for calling me back, man.”
“What’s going on?”
“Dude. It’s a lot. Um…” His voice breaks as he takes in a stilted breath, the unmistakable sound of tears coming through the line. I haven’t heard him cry since he recited his wedding vows.
“Fisher! What’s going on? Is everybody okay?”
Gretchen’s face pops forefront in my mind, every memory sweeping in like a deluge.
A week and a half ago, she told me she wasn’t ready to talk.
It was a tough pill to swallow, but I’ll give her whatever she needs.
If that’s time, so be it. I’ll wait. I texted her a couple times over those first few days with friendly chatter—just trying to keep the line of communication open—but she never replied.
I know a Gretchen hint when I see one, so I backed off.
But if something has happened to her?—
Drew’s voice cuts in, “Yeah…I mean, no, not really…um…” He inhales sharply and there’s nothing for me to do except wait. Wait as my best friend fights tooth and nail to say his next words. “It’s Reagan. She’s okay,” he quickly adds. I let out a sigh of relief as I sink into my chair.
“Listen,” he continues, “I can’t get into the details right now. I promise I’ll tell you everything soon, but I just need to be here with her these next couple of weeks.”
“Okay. Is there anything I can do for you guys?”
He says nothing at first. Only the rough sound of Drew’s hand running down his face cuts the heavy silence.
“I need a favor, Vining.”
“Of course. What is it?”
He sighs. “It’s Gretchen.”
“Gretchen?” I question and then awareness sinks in. “Oh, damn! Your trip.”
“Yeah.” The defeat in his voice sounds like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“You can reschedule, right?”
“I can’t. She was on an earlier flight and I wasn’t able to reach her before her plane took off.”
Now I’m the one scraping a palm down my face.
At the baseball game, Gretchen told me how excited she was about this trip. When she lands in Arizona and finally talks to Drew, she’ll be crushed…and alone. I can’t stomach the thought of it.
“What can I do to help?”
“How much vacation time do you have?” Drew asks.
My brows furrow. “What?”
“Vacation days? I know you and Lauren took that trip out to Colorado in February but that was only three or four days, right?”
“Yeeaaahh.”
“But you get at least two weeks paid vacation every year? Or paid time off or whatever? Maybe you have some personal days accrued? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to?—”
“Fisher!” I pipe in. “Take a breath, man.”
He takes one heavy breath and then another. Frankly, I do the same because I’ve already figured out what’s coming, but I need to hear him say it.
“I have plenty of vacation days, sick days, personal days, you name it,” I say calmly. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
One beat of silence. Two. Three.
“I need you to be on a plane to Arizona in four hours. Gretchen needs you.”