Chapter 14
HAYES
Shifting on the seat along the conference table, the chair swivels slightly.
I listen to Easton, our head of marketing.
I’m secretly relieved that he is the last of the leadership team to give an update in our weekly meeting.
I’m finding a rhythm here, which is good.
In the last few minutes, he has reminded us of the charity endeavors the company is partaking in, and his relief at handing off the holiday gift baskets project to the HR department is obvious.
He was quite grumbly, feeling that his department needed to remind HR that they don’t handle measly projects for staff children.
I don’t know Easton too well, but well enough.
“I’m fearing your mood comes with the holiday season,” Julian deadpans.
“Holiday baskets with candy for the little kids of the staff,” I mundanely finish his sentence that we have heard him ranting about all meeting.
“Exactly.” He tosses his pen onto the table.
Olivia from HR rolls her eyes. “Way to be a team player. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a department meeting in five.” She stands, looking sharp in her dark pantsuit.
“Sure, run along, Olive.” He smirks cockily.
“If you call me that one more—” She stops herself and opts for a glare as she leaves.
Foster snorts a laugh. “Tradition. Easton pisses off HR.”
“Let’s be thankful that Ned from Digital is sick today. On that note, I think we are all set, unless anybody has anything to add?” Julian asks as he closes his laptop. We all shake our heads. “Good. I’m hungry. Pass me one of those snacks.”
There is a perk to executive meetings: the food is always way above par, and I could use some energy. Elodie is taking it all purely by occupying my mind.
Last night was unexpected. I’ve been on the pursuit, but did I think that it would end with me inside of her in a bathroom stall? No. Not in that setting. Truth be told, it gives me a few directions to choose from in my head. I’m just trying to figure out what’s fair to both of us.
We all grab a small plate and some food, and the tone is set to leave business out the door for a few minutes. We need a break.
“How is it going with Elodie? Since the big scene earlier.” Foster isn’t asking, he’s stirring the pot while he enjoys a chicken salad sandwich.
“So let me get this straight. You lost your cool due to flowers? Yep, that’s totally my fiancée’s doing. Apologies.” Julian smirks to himself with a hint of pride.
Foster rumbles a chuckle under his breath. “Elodie handled it like a pro. That’s why I have her on the team. She’s feisty when a client is late paying an invoice, even by a day. Imagine what she was like with this crazy guy over here.” He hikes a thumb my way.
“At least it’s in the open. What now?” Easton wonders as he pours a new bottle of sparkling water into his glass.
“Stop it. Leave the man alone. They need to figure it out without our opinions,” Julian warns.
My brow rises from curiosity. “What might those opinions be?”
Foster’s face contorts, debating what to say. “Focus on your daughter.”
“Really? Nothing else?”
“I mean, no need to rush into it all in one go. You have practicalities to work out, and maybe the shock or adrenaline of your new situation will crash at some point. Make sure everything is for the right reason. Even if slow doesn’t exist in your vocabulary,” he clarifies.
Is that what I’m doing? Because attraction will always be there, whether we go slow or not. I’ve already acted on it. Our ship is already sailing. But an outsider is reminding me that maybe I could be thinking irrationally.
“True. Slow doesn’t mean more isn’t going to happen. You just need to take smaller steps,” Easton voices.
I look around the table, a little disappointed they aren’t urging me to go for it.
“Or he can go all in from the get-go. Hayes isn’t one to wait patiently.
Besides, ‘Elodie is on the same wavelength, it just takes longer for the fog in her brain to clear’…
end quote from Savannah,” Julian teases.
“No, but seriously. There is something there. Don’t listen to us.
Err on the side of caution, sure. But everybody has their own pace. ”
I smile in appreciation. “Thanks. I needed to hear that. I’ve kind of been setting our speed. I think Elodie finally grasps that.”
“Well, that’s good then.” Foster continues to listen.
“Except, maybe I’m just wearing her down.” I’m not sure that’s a good thing either, but I can’t control myself around her. There is only one vision of the future for her. “Either way, Lola comes first, and I will see Elodie tonight.”
“Awkward child handovers?” Easton throws a chip into his mouth.
I chuckle to myself. “Thankfully not. I’m getting the hang of the dad thing, and most of the time, Elodie is there, too.”
That’s the hard part. Our attention is rightfully on our daughter, but the relationship between Elodie and me still lingers when all three of us are together.
Every time I catch Elodie’s gaze, we both acknowledge it.
At some point, it’s impossible not to keep our boundary around Lola when we both want to break it.
Just crossing over that line is approached differently between us.
“It will work out, and if not, remember HR prepared a nice holiday basket of candy for you to bring to them,” Easton says sarcastically.
My phone buzzes on the table and I swipe the screen, I see a message in the daycare app.
It seems they couldn’t reach Elodie, and it feels good to be the next on their contact list. It seems that Lola isn’t feeling well, which isn’t so great.
I’ve been warned that kids get sick a lot, and normally it’s just a cold.
Right now? I’m entering new territory, a type of worry and a new protective shield.
The events of last night have to be put aside. I guess this is where co-parenting comes into play. I send her a quick message.
Me:
I think you’re in a meeting. Daycare says Lola isn’t feeling great. Since I was going to pick her up in an hour anyway, I will go now and bring her to my place. See you soon.
Lola looks at me with wide eyes as I sit on the edge of the sofa and stare at her peculiarly.
I set her up on my couch with a blanket and her stuffed animals.
When I picked her up from daycare, she walked straight to me and wrapped around my leg while one of the carers explained that Lola was warm but no fever, she just didn’t seem like her energetic self.
One look at her and I sensed it too. In the car ride back, she just hugged her bunny and sucked her thumb.
At first, I was a little scared that she was still shy with me. It’s only been a few times that we’ve had one-on-one time. But it quickly became apparent that she just isn’t herself.
“That family of dogs show?” I ask, holding the remote, and continue studying her. She seems drowsy, so my guess is I only have to endure a few minutes of cartoons, though admittedly the theme song has been stuck in my head for days.
She nods her head in answer. “Juice.”
“Ah, little majesty is demanding drinks and snacks now.” That’s a good sign.
But I wince when I see spots on her skin, and she looks at me, bewildered in response as I stare at her.
I’m not sure why I didn’t notice in the car, or maybe because they hadn’t yet appeared on her skin.
Instantly, I think of chickenpox. Of course, on my watch and in the early weeks of forming a bond with my daughter, I get hit with not just a cold-sick Lola, but chickenpox-sick Lola.
“Be right back with your juice. Cookie?”
She shrugs. Yeah, that is not a typical answer.
I frantically type away on my phone to research as I make my way to the kitchen off the living room.
Thankfully, the other week, Elodie gave me every emergency number she had.
I thought she was overdoing it, but now I understand why, and I have the pediatrician’s number.
It’s a quick call because it is plain and simple.
Lola has had her first vaccine, but it isn’t fully effective, and her next isn’t until she’s four.
I’m already making a list of things that I’ll need as I grab a juice box.
There is one question that I need answered, though.
Calling my mom feels slightly nerve-wracking. I know how much she wants to meet Lola, but I said to give it time. Yet, I’m still reaching out to her for advice.
To my surprise, she answers after three rings. I figured she might be at her Friday-afternoon book club or something.
“There’s my son. I haven’t heard from you in a while, not that I’m counting or anything.” I can hear her smile on the other end.
“Sorry. New job and all.”
“Mmhmm, I’m aware and waiting.”
I set her on speaker and place my phone on the counter so I can search for cookies or crackers in the cupboard.
“Listen, I appreciate the patience, and I promise you will meet Lola. I would love to talk, but I don’t really have time right now.
I called to ask if I had chickenpox when I was younger. ”
“Oh.” Her mood changes. “Does she have chickenpox? You did. It was normal then, as they didn’t have the vaccine yet.”
“The pediatrician's office said there is still a chance before the second dose. Not common but possible. It should be mild, fortunately. She doesn’t have a fever.”
“That’s reassuring. I gave up counting how many spots you had, but they did go away quite fast. You weren’t itchy like others. Oats are your new friend.”
I’m relieved it’s safe for me to be with Lola. “Thanks. I’m kind of getting thrown into the deep end here.”
“Parenthood,” she points out.
“I’ll see if she wants to eat.”
I snap up a box of mini cookies. The housekeeper has instructions to ensure the cupboard is filled with options for when Lola visits. I’m about to open the pack of dinosaur cookies, but I pause when my mom speaks up.
“No sugary foods. That’s never good for inflammation.”