Chapter 6 #2
Romantic love isn’t a part of my destiny, it was written in the stars long before I was born. That’s why I’m still single, that’s why I don’t date. I’m already in a relationship.
I’m married to my job.
A partnership that is an equal power exchange of give and take, the more I give it, the more it gives me.
It brings me much more happiness than any man ever could.
I refocus my attention and drag my eyes back to our lawyers, that’s if we make it through this disaster.
ANDREW
I arrive at the doors of the swanky skyscraper and straighten my tie; I don’t know why I’m going through with this stupid interview. It’s not like I’m going to take the job, even if I do get it.
I check the details on my phone and walk over to the elevators, the doors are open waiting for me and I walk in and push the button.
Level 11
The doors close, I check myself in the back wall mirror and pull a hand through my hair as I try to neaten it. Why is my hair in a constant state of unruly waves?
The doors open, I step out into the foyer and walk to the reception desk. “Hello,” I say to the lady wearing an earpiece. “I have an appointment with Anne-Marie.”
“Yes.” She smiles as she looks me over before turning back to her computer to check my details. “Mr. Watson?”
“Yes.”
“Just take a seat in the waiting area to the left, Anne-Marie won’t be long.”
“Thanks.” I walk through and take a seat and try to appear casual as I glance around at the other shmucks who are also waiting. There’s a woman to my right and four men opposite me. I wonder if they are all interviewing for the same position as me?
I hate job interviews.
I run my finger under the viselike grip my tie has around my neck as I try and loosen it a little.
I notice that everyone has a folder or briefcase with them, was I supposed to bring my résumé?
Surely not, they have it on file already.
I wonder, do I have a copy in my car down in the parking lot? I could run down and check but then what if they call me in?
Honestly…I can’t be fucked.
It is what it is.
“Mr. Watson?” a voice calls, I glance up to see a middle-aged woman standing in the corridor and I stand and smile. “Hello.” I shake her hand.
“This way please.” She gestures to her office and I walk in and sit down.
“So.” She looks me over as she takes a seat. “You are here to interview for the caretaker’s position?”
“Yes.”
She has a copy of my résumé printed out and she reads it over. “You’re a physiotherapist?” she asks without looking up at me.
“Yes.”
“What makes you think you would be suitable for this role?”
“Honestly?” I shrug. “Probably nothing.”
Her eyes rise to meet mine in question.
“The truth is, I am a widower with two young children and I’m currently working at night to support us and the thought of being able to give my kids a home in the country is appealing.”
“Oh.” Her eyes hold mine for a beat. “Have you ever maintained a property before?”
“Ish.” I twist my lips. “Just as much as anyone, I guess.”
“You can operate machinery?”
“Machinery?”
“Lawn mowers, tractors etc.”
“Oh.” I shrug again. “If there is an instruction manual I’m sure I could work it out.”
She smiles and keeps reading.
“Are you handy?”
“Not really.”
“So you are not handy, you don’t know how to work machinery and you have never maintained a property before?”
“Nope.” I roll my eyes, annoyed that I bothered to come down here. “I’ve wasted your time.” I go to get up.
“Not so fast, sit down, Mr. Watson. You do have the one quality that they require.”
“What’s that?”
“Honesty.” She smiles over at me. “And we can teach skills but integrity is something intrinsic.” She puts my résumé down onto her desk. “So the position is to start in six weeks.”
“Before Christmas?”
“Yes. Would that be a problem?”
“I guess not.”
“Currently the caretaker is an elderly gentleman named Clyde who has been there for twenty years, he has family back in Scotland who need him so he has decided to leave.”
“Uh-huh.” I listen intently. “And the owner?”
“Due to work commitments the family only visit a few times a year. Three young children who are in school.”
“Are they from New York or?”
“No, they reside in Los Angeles. Originally from France but have been here in the States for fifteen years.”
“Okay.”
“You would be reporting to Clyde.”
“But isn’t he leaving?” I frown.
“Yes but he will be your supervisor via Zoom, at least for the first year until you learn everything.”
“That’s helpful.”
She leans back on her chair and looks me dead in the eye. “You are the least qualified for the position, Mr. Watson, and yet—” she shrugs, “—I can’t shake the feeling that you’d be perfect to put forward.”
Seriously?
I roll my lips to hide my smile. “That would be…. Amazing.”
“You would need to go and meet Clyde on the property, of course, and look around to see that it suits you as well before anything formal is offered.”
“I could do that.” I nod. “I could go in two weeks, over the weekend.”
“That could work.”
I smile and she smiles back. “I’ll email you with the full job description and if you could reply to that with the dates you would be able to go and meet Clyde.”
Excitement fills me, does that mean I got the job? “Of course.”
“Thanks for coming, Mr. Watson, you have a great day.”
“You too.” I smile as I shake her hand again. “This went better than I expected.”
She chuckles. “For me too.”
MADISON
“Let’s get a coffee.” I point over to the café across the road.
“Yeah, okay.” Vance looks at his watch. “I have a two o’clock.”
“We’ll get to-go.” We are on our way back to the office after a meeting across town. “I’ll call for the car.” I dial Angus, my driver. “Hi, we will be ready in ten.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks.”
We cross the road and walk into the café. “What do you want? I’ll order.”
“Iced long black.” His phone rings and he answers, “Hello, Vance Meldrum.”
I walk up to the counter and order and turn and run smack bang into someone. “My apologies,” I say before looking up, big blue eyes meet mine and I step back in shock. “Andrew.”
He presses his lips together as if angered. “Hello….”
“Madison.” I finish his sentence.
“I know your name,” he fires back before stepping past me to the counter.
Fuck.
I walk to the back of the café and stand to face the front, my heart hammers hard in my chest.
Damn it, why does he affect me so?
As he orders at the counter my eyes linger on him, he’s wearing a navy suit and a crisp white shirt and damn it, nobody has ever been more attractive.
I haven’t seen him look like this before…. Even more lethal than those damn white scrubs.
He finishes ordering and goes and stands at the other side of the café, as far away from me as he possibly can.
Shit, shit, shit.
My heart races and I know if I have anything to say, now is the time. My coffee is about to be ready and I will never see him again.
Go.
I nervously walk over to him. “Hello.”
“Hi.” He folds his arms and looks straight to the front.
“I just wanted to talk about the other night.”
“It’s fine,” he snaps.
“You see I had a….”
“I said. It’s fine.” He cuts me off. “No need to dredge up the past.”
His aftershave hangs in the air, bringing memories of our magical kiss, and the magnetic pull I feel to him is otherworldly, but all I can feel is that he wants to be nowhere near me.
“You don’t want to speak to me?” I ask for confirmation.
“Not really.”
My heart twists, more than it should.
“Why not?” I ask.
His eyes come to meet mine. “Because I know my worth. And you don’t.”
Ouch.
I nod and step back from him. “Right.”
“Madison,” the girl on the counter calls.
Sarcasm flashes across his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Is that the name you’re going by today?”
“You’re an asshole.”
He smirks. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
My face flushes red as I hear my angry heartbeat in my ears.
Fuck. You.
“Have a nice life,” I snap.
I march to the counter, collect my coffees and storm out of the café. I begin to power walk to where my car is waiting.
“What are you doing?” I hear a voice cry from behind me.
“Oh crap.” I turn back, I forgot about Vance.
TEN DAYS LATER
I chew my thumbnail as I stare across the road.
Healing Hands
What are you doing here, you idiot?
I have an itch that I can’t scratch. Ten days of dreaming about that stupid kiss we had.
And I don’t want to make up with him, and I’m not apologizing. But I cannot go on like this. Yes, it’s true I should have called, but he should have been more understanding.
Things I should have said to him are playing over and over in my mind like a broken record and I hate to admit it, but the fact he thinks I don’t know his worth is infuriating.
Because I do.
He’s all I can fucking think about.
And so here I am, waiting for my massage appointment. The appointment made in a fake name. A chance to see him again.
I take a deep steadying breath and close my eyes, okay…. “Let’s do this.”
I cross the street and push through the heavy door, a little bell rings and he walks out into reception. His face falls when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”
“I have an appointment.”
His eyes darken and he flicks the lock on the door and turns the sign to closed.
I open my mouth to say something but no words come out.
He gestures to the hall and I follow him up to the treatment room, he turns back toward me. “Get undressed and get on your fucking knees. It’s time to apologize.”