Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“He has to be dating someone. Come on, no one with that amount of money, power, and looks is jerking off every night,” Michael said as Gretchen and I sat down at our usual lunch table.
I had splurged and bought my lunch from one of the kiosks inside the cafeteria. It was the seven-month anniversary of starting my job, so I thought I deserved something special.
“Who are we talking about?” Gretchen asked.
“Mr. McDuffie,” Grace answered.
“I’m just saying, a man like him doesn’t stay single. Why would he when he could have any girl he’d like in Chicago?” Michael asked.
“It sounds like you’re the one who has to get laid. Are things slowing down in Boystown?” Natalie asked as she took a sip of her pop.
Michael made a face at her. “No. Things are just fine, thank you very much.”
“All I’m saying is you seem pretty obsessed with his sex life,” Natalie said.
Michael stuck his tongue out at her, causing the table to laugh. “My point was simply that he has to be dating someone.”
“No, I think he’s single,” Grace said.
“Actually…” I began.
Everyone turned to face me. I had been debating the best time to share the news with my lunch buddies. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but I also didn’t want to ignore it. Everyone else was able to talk about their personal lives; I wanted to do the same.
At first, I had kept our relationship private, but I felt like after dating for a few months, things were serious enough that I could share my news. Caleb agreed. It had just taken me longer than I anticipated to find the right time to let everyone know.
“You’re dating Mr. McDuffie?” Natalie asked, her sandwich frozen halfway to her lips.
“Yes, I am.”
“Are you serious?” Gretchen asked, turning in her seat to face me. She shook my shoulder in excitement. “Oh my gosh! Since when?”
“Four months now,” I answered.
“I have to be the queen of oblivion. I haven’t noticed anything different between the two of you,” she said, jokingly smacking her head with her hand as she turned back to face her food.
That was a relief. I usually wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. “Well, we don’t want it to interfere with our work lives.”
Michael moved his tray to the side and looked me square in the eyes. “We need details. Is he as serious at home as he is in the office?”
“Does he wear a night guard?” Natalie asked.
Her question was so out of left field, it startled me.
“What?” I asked her.
“Does he wear a night guard? Someone as attractive as him has to have a secret like that to prove that he’s a mere mortal like the rest of us.”
“No, he doesn’t sleep with anything,” I chuckled and opened my water bottle, taking a sip. “You guys are crazy.”
“Come on, Theresa. You can’t blame us for wanting to know details. Not all of us have boyfriends. Let us live vicariously through you,” Michael said, making puppy dog eyes at me.
“There’s seriously not much to share.”
“That’s a load of bologna,” Natalie said. “Everyone has something.”
“I swear he’s a normal man behind his suits. He likes steak, action-packed movies, and playing Call of Duty. He calls his parents on Sunday mornings. He reads the news on his iPad. See, nothing exciting.”
Michael, Gretchen, and Natalie all looked like children who had just learned Santa Claus wasn’t real. I didn’t get what all the excitement was about. Yes, my boyfriend was a rich CEO, but that didn’t mean he had any special powers.
One thing popped into my head from one of our dates a couple of weekends ago. It was minor, but something told me that it was the type of thing my friends wanted to hear.
“There is one thing.” All of their heads perked up. “We went out and stopped for hot dogs, and Caleb asked for just ketchup on his.”
The table exploded with indignant remarks.
I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s how he likes them, so he says.”
“Geez. And you think you know someone. Next thing you’re going to tell us is he says he wants a soda, instead of a pop,” Gretchen joked.
“Nope. He is a pop man.”
“Good,” Natalie said, raising her drink in a fake salute.
The rest of the table and I laughed. Or so I thought until I noticed Grace.
She was sitting with her arms folded, looking angry.
I’d had my suspicions that she had a crush on Caleb, but I’d been hoping it sizzled out.
It didn’t seem so. Now all I could wish was that she wouldn’t be too upset with me and move on.
Before I had a chance to speak with her and clear the air, Gretchen spoke up.
“Not to change the subject, but would anyone be up for going to a Cubs game this weekend? The weather is supposed to be nice.”
Everyone focused on that topic, and by the time the conversation ended, Grace had excused herself.
“Did you have a good lunch?” Caleb asked from behind his desk.
“Yeah,” I said after a brief pause.
“You hesitated. Did something happen?” he asked, giving me his full attention.
I walked over to the chair across from him and took a seat. “I told my friends about us.”
His expression didn’t change. “And?”
“And they wanted to know if you wore a night guard or if you had some deep, dark secret.”
“Did you tell them about our arrangement?” he asked, his tone going deadly quiet.
I rolled my eyes. How many NDAs did he have me sign? How many times had we agreed not to share our kinky life with the public?
“Of course not. I’m not ashamed of the type of relationship we have, but I also don’t want to go broadcasting it for the world to know. Our sex and kink life stay between us. Always.”
He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. “Careful, Theresa, my hand is feeling awfully itchy with that eyeroll you just gave me.”
“Hey,” I said, holding my hand up. “No playing at work, remember? Secondly, I stuck to what we agreed I could share.”
“You’re right. I apologize. I know you’ve assured me you’ll be discreet, but I worry,” he admitted sheepishly and adjusted his position in his chair. “How did they take the news?”
“Thank you. They were a bit let down that you didn’t have any flaws or secrets. Until I told them about you wanting just ketchup on your hot dog a few weeks ago.”
“Oh my gosh!” he exclaimed. “One time. One time I have a craving for a hot dog with just ketchup, and I’ll never be able to live it down.”
“Yeah. In Chicago, you just don’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“I don’t know. Because you just don’t,” I said, raising my arms in the air and then letting them fall to my lap. We had had this same conversation when he made the order.
He shook his head. “It’s a silly custom. People should be able to order whatever they want on their food.”
I shook my head. “Some people will never learn.”
He gave me a stern look, and I knew if we were at home, he’d have me bent over a chair or his knee and be paddling my bottom for my sass. He took a deep breath.
“I’m glad that your friends took the news well. I figured you’d tell them whenever you were ready. Not to change the topic, but I wanted to ask if you had any plans for next weekend.”
“Not that I can think of. I know the Taste of Chicago and Lalapalooza are coming up, but I’m not sure about their dates.”
I hadn’t decided if I’d be going to either event this year.
The Taste of Chicago had always been a fun opportunity to try lots of different food.
As for Lalapalooza, I had only gone once in college, but I was hoping to go again.
It was four days of musicians playing in Grant Park. It was awesome, but expensive.
“Would you be up for taking a short getaway with me up to Galena?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
Galena was at the northwestern tip of Illinois, right on the Iowa border. It was supposed to be a big tourist town with a fun, historic Main Street, President Grant’s home, and lots of hiking trails.
“Great. I was thinking about taking you up there in the fall when there are more events and the trees are colorful, but everything is booked. So, I figured a stay in the summer could be just as fun.”
“Absolutely. Thank you for planning this, Caleb.” I stood up, walked around the desk, and gave him a kiss on the lips.
“What happened to no playing at work?” he asked as he smiled at me.
“Please, you know as well as I do that this isn’t us playing.”
He winked at me. “I know, I’m giving you a hard time.”
I gave him a light smack on the shoulder and he laughed.
“On a serious note, we have to talk about the Amperage account again.”
“What about it?”
“I’d like you to get their latest profit-and-loss statements and then compare them to their numbers from this time last year. I want to see how much of an increase or decrease their bottom line has seen since I invested six months ago.”
“Absolutely, I can do that,” I said, walking over to my desk.
“Thank you,” Caleb said, focusing back on his screen as I got to work.