Chapter 23
Nathan
O n Monday, I texted Spencer asking if she’d like a coffee from the local spot, and if so, what kind?
She ignored me. I bought her one anyway and left it on the edge of her desk.
By lunchtime, I couldn’t resist the urge to check.
Lifting the coffee up, it was clear not a drop was consumed.
She sent me a curt email informing me that Dawn needed her assistance on a project and she’d be away from her desk for most of the day.
I wanted to put my dick on the table and tell her she’d need my approval before she loaned herself to another employee, but something told me to stop digging my own grave. So I let that one go.
Tuesday rolled around and I was determined to break the ice.
I even looked up dad jokes, for fuck’s sake.
I used: What do sprinters eat before they race?
Nothing. They fast. She stared at me like I’d sprouted rainbow-colored horns.
I know for a fact the not-pissed-at-me Spencer would’ve found that cute at least. When the joke didn’t work, out of desperation, I texted her that I left my belt at her place and needed it back.
I prepared myself that when I got her alone in my office, I was going to shut the door and tell her the truth.
I’m just not ready for a relationship, and I’m very sorry I led her on.
A part of me feels like I should mention how much I still want her, and how my cock hates me because I want to strip her down and bend her over any surface she’d let me. I’m worried she thinks this has anything to do with her. It’s me. It’s all my ghosts.
But the excuse didn’t matter. I walked into work on Wednesday to my belt, in a neat coil, already placed in a small, white box.
By Thursday, I’m determined. I strut into work this morning ready to pull rank. Like it or not, Spencer. I sign your paychecks, so when I think we need to talk, we’re going to talk. End of story.
The first thing I notice is that Spencer’s wearing something odd. Normally she’s all business skirts, dresses, and slacks. Spencer always dresses like she’s about to enter a courtroom. But today, her thick hair is pulled back into a sporty ponytail, and she has on…overalls?
They are black overalls with silver button hooks. What in the world? It’s only when I’m about a yard away from her desk that I notice the enlarged rat that pops its head out of her pocket. And suddenly the overalls make sense. She’s using the giant chest pocket to kangaroo-mommy that thing.
“Spencer,” I say as I near her. “It has to go. I told you I don’t want rodents here.”
She swivels around slowly, stroking Spike’s head with one finger, looking like a Disney villain.
“Funny thing. Did you know guinea pigs can be registered as emotional support animals and are permissible in the workplace as long as you have HR approval?” She taps a tri-folded piece of paper next to her.
“This is a letter from HR recognizing Spikey here as my new desk buddy.”
“Are you trying to get a reaction out of me? Look, we need to talk.”
“Spike isn’t here for you, he’s here for me,” she argues.
“Really?” I roll my eyes. “And what does he support?”
“Mostly my anxiety, which is stemming from one main source,” she says, narrowing her lids.
“Point taken. And you’re right. I owe you an explanation. Step into my office and let’s talk privately. Now.”
“Fine,” she grumbles as she rises.
“Leave that thing.”
She taps her paper again. “Take it up with HR, boss. Where I go, he goes. So, I’d choose your meetings sparingly if Spike terrifies you so much.”
Great. We’re back to her calling me boss which is pseudo-respectful because I know when she verbally says boss , she’s mentally saying ass .
I watch the guinea pig’s fidgety nose twitch back and forth, debating if I can learn to live with this. But I can’t stomach it. I resist the urge to shudder. “Not terrified, I just don’t like them. Spencer, seriously. Enough. This isn’t the way to get back at me.”
“I’m not getting back at you, Nathan. I’m not anything with you except just…done.” She sits back down and reopens her laptop. “Would you excuse me? I have a lot of work to do.”
I bite back my irritation at her stubbornness and try to keep my tone warm. “How are the office remodel plans coming?”
“Fine,” she answers without looking at me.
“So, it’ll be done by the time my project partner shows up next week?”
“Yes. Furniture will be delivered this weekend. The designer asked that you please leave your office unlocked.”
“Okay, I can do that. Is there anything else you need feedback on?” I know she can’t tell, but even me being within eyesight of that chunky rat is a testament to how much I like Spencer and how bad I feel about how this all went down.
“I’ll email you if I do.” Her eyes are still attached to her screen. I should’ve never started this cold-shoulder war with Spencer. She’s even better at it than I am.
“All right, well, you know where to find me.”
I trudge to my office, defeated. My mood is further worsened when I open my emails and see another fresh set of images from the PI, Hodge. Grabbing my desk phone, I dial him immediately, and as usual, he picks up on the first ring.
“What am I looking at?” I ask, staring at the picture of Ruby, looking disheveled, meeting with a suspicious-looking man in an alleyway.
“I don’t know, boss. I thought I should bring it up. I’ve been tailing Peter, but like I said—he’s squeaky clean. I got a gut feeling I should follow the old lady one day, so I did. The man she’s meeting with is a known drug dealer.”
“Ruby bought drugs?” I peer more closely at the image. No money or packages seem to be exchanged.
“Nah, boss. They were just talking. I’ve got nothing else. I can keep tailing her if you want?”
“Keep following your gut feeling. I want you focused on Peter, but if Ruby starts acting outside of the norm, dig up whatever you can. And if you ever suspect Claire is in danger, the police are your first call. I’m your second. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks, Hodge, I have to go,” I say as I see my dad hovering at Spencer’s desk.
To add insult to injury, Spencer’s smile is wide and toothy.
She’s clutching her chest, laughing hard at something my dad said.
He turns around and to my horror he’s holding her guinea pig in his arms, looking at it like a brand-new baby.
Okay, so obviously my rodent phobia doesn’t come from my dad.
We make eye contact through the closed glass doors of my office and Dad waves.
I hold up my palm and he hands Spencer back her rat-pig and makes his way into my office.
“Your assistant is delightful . Sweetest little thing. Did you know she’s part Cuban and black? I asked her where her pretty complexion came from.”
“I’m aware,” I bite out. “You’re engaged. Should you be describing other women as sweet and pretty?”
He slumps into the chair opposite my desk. “First of all, Jules doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body. She knows where my heart is. Second, what’s wrong with you? Still feuding with your assistant? Because if you’d stop with the silent treatment, you’d learn she’s a gem.”
I want to tell him it’s the opposite, actually. Spencer’s the one with the icy demeanor lately. But I’m not in the mood to explain myself. “What’s up?”
“Legal contacted me this morning. What you unearthed about the Graystone and Lakeshore properties was impressive detective work.”
“That was all Spencer. She went through those voicemails and put the pieces together.” If anyone deserves credit, it’s her.
“ Smart girl. Give her a raise,” Dad says firmly. I don’t have the heart to tell him that at the rate we’re going, she’s probably going to quit on us the moment she finds a comparable job.
“Anyway, I’ve had inspectors in and out of those properties all week. Lakeshore is fine. It’s salvageable with repairs, but Graystone is pretty much condemned.”
“Condemned?” I push away from my desk, folding my arms over my chest. “Isn’t that a little dramatic? I was just there and the apartments are functional.”
Dad brushes against the top of his lilac button-down, probably getting guinea pig hair all over my office.
Great. “It’s lipstick on a pig,” he explains.
“My concern is safety. The plumbing isn’t up to code, the electrical has suffered because of it.
I want to gut the entire thing, rebuild properly, and then offer all the tenants we displace the first opportunity to sign up for our brand-new, rent-to-own condominiums.”
“Dad, if we force an evacuation, we’re on the hook for relocation assistance, we’ll have to return all deposits, and we might have to reimburse portions of leases. It’d be a major financial loss. There’s no other way to do the repairs.”
Dad rubs his hands together, palm sliding across palm.
“Nate, some decisions aren’t about money.
I’m not willing to risk the tenants’ safety.
Yes, we’re going to take a major financial loss.
But we’re going to sleep in peace knowing a newborn isn’t going to have damaged lungs from inhaling mold, or the ceiling isn’t going to concave and crush a family.
This is the only way to stay ahead of accidents we aren’t anticipating.
We’re closing the complex. That’s my final word. ”
I finally nod in agreement. “So be it, then.”
“Get on the phone with the property management company. We’re also issuing them a formal apology for putting them in this situation. I also want a thorough investigation of all our construction partners. Moving forward, I want to make sure all our partners are squeaky clean. No more crooks.”
I cock a brow. “Does that mean you won’t be placing any more spies in Harvey’s employment?”
Dad clears his throat, trying to swallow down his smirk. “I sent Harvey a very nice gift basket with smoked Alaskan salmon and rare truffles.”
I slip him a sly smile. “Because truffles absolve your deviant behavior.”
“Pretty much.” Dad rises. “All right, I’m headed to a meeting. I meant to ask you about Santa Barbara this weekend. Are you available?”
“Why? Are you in the hunt for yet another project?”
“No. I invited Julia’s parents, her siblings, their spouses, and their kids to the beach house for some bonding time. It’d mean a lot to us if you came.”
“Oh, I uh…” There’s so much on my mind between my newly recharged feud with Spencer, Ruby meeting with a drug dealer, and all the work on my plate, it’s hard to sift through the clutter of my mind to find a good excuse. “I have plans.”
“What plans?”
“Some landscaping things at my house. They’re measuring the pool, replacing the fridge, and installing a new built-in grill. It’s a whole thing. I need to be there.”
Dad blinks at me. “Your excuses are getting lazy.”
I hold up my hands like I’m caught and surrendering. “Then why do you ask, Dad? I’m happy for you and Julia. And I want you to get along with your new family. I’m just not interested in cozying up to strangers right now.”
Dad’s face morphs into disappointment. “She made you soup. It’s in the break room.”
“Huh?”
“Julia makes a bone broth soup with homemade egg noodles. She swears it’s a magic cure.”
“For what?”
“For every five events Jules invites you to, I only ask about one. I’m trying not to overwhelm you.
I keep telling her you’re sick so as not to hurt her feelings.
I’ve used that excuse so much, she thinks you’re dying from mono.
So, she made you soup. Even though you reject her over and over again, she still has hope and extends blind kindness to you at every turn.
It’s getting harder not to see your behavior as deliberate. ”
I tuck my chin to my chest, feeling weighed down by guilt. “I’ve been an ass.”
“You sure have.”
“Fine. I can’t do this weekend, but I swear on my life, my answer to the next invitation is yes.”
Dad makes his way around my desk to clamp his hand around my shoulder. “Thanks, Nate.”
“No problem.” He’s at the door when I stop him. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Tell Julia her soup is delicious.”
Dad cocks his head. “You haven’t even tried it yet.”
“I know, but it’s nice to say. Just tell her thank you.”
He nods once more before he’s through the door.
My view is no longer obstructed and I see Spencer’s empty desk.
An idea sprouting to mind, I march to her work area.
After ensuring the rodent carrier under her desk is empty, and the guinea pig is nowhere in sight, I snag the pen off her desk. Sticky note, sticky note.
She stores a set here somewhere…
I open the top desk drawer which is empty except for a hole punch, a collection of pens, and other office supplies rarely used in this day of digital communication. I open the second drawer to see a rainbow collection of sticky notes. There we go.
I’m jotting down a note to her on a pink sticky, inviting her to lunch with me in the break room—Julia’s homemade soup. She’s been so clipped to my texts and emails, maybe a handwritten note will warm her up to me again. It at least shows some effort.
I’m signing my name, from Nate , when other contents of her drawer catch my attention.
Cheap mini donuts seem out of character for Spencer.
I pick up the pack of powdered sugar Hostess Donettes to see a name, Caleb, scrawled in black permanent marker.
Next to it, his phone number. The chocolate glazed donuts have the same.
A beast of jealousy screams and tries to claw its way out of my chest. If there were any doubt about my feelings for this woman, I am immediately humbled.
I’m furious at the idea of her getting another man’s number.
I hate how she laughed so easily with my dad, yet every time she looks at me it’s with daggers for eyes.
I’m even more pissed at myself, because I had her and I let her go.
I should’ve just talked to her more that night.
I should’ve explained everything that happened with Elise.
It’s Spencer, she would understand. She’d be patient as I worked through my shit.
But opening up about my grief is a Mount Everest I can’t seem to climb.
I know this sticky note won’t do. It’s not enough to invite her to lunch.
I bunch up the note and chuck it in the wastebasket.
I have to leave Spencer alone until I’m ready to tell her the truth and lay all my messy tragic baggage on the table.
Until I can do that, logically she has every right to talk to other men…
But not today and not donut guy.
I casually toss the packaged donuts in the trash, one log at a time.
Sorry, Caleb.
She’s mine.