Chapter 27
Nathan
C harlie and Spencer have been living with me for almost two weeks, and sharing the internet, so now my entire social media feed is guinea pig advice. It’s a living nightmare. All the hairy pigs on my screen, I mean. Not the part about having company at home. That’s been heaven.
Since Spencer and Charlie moved in, I’ve been treating every night like it’s an eleven-year-old’s birthday party.
We’ve done pizza by the pool almost nightly.
Crumbl cookie deliveries every other day.
To my great pleasure, Spencer actually ate with us.
She’s smiling more. Her sass has skyrocketed, but that might just be because we’re getting more quality time with each other.
I think snark is her native tongue. My favorite part is the earrings she hasn’t taken out of her ears since I gifted them.
She keeps saying she loves how beautifully understated they are.
In a way, I agree. They are a subtle pink, each earring barely over a carat.
What she doesn’t realize is these are natural pink diamonds from one of the most revered rare-jewelry providers in the world.
There’s about fifty thousand dollars sitting in each of her ears.
It’s probably best she doesn’t know that. She’d have a heart attack.
Charlie’s also a freaking riot. She has a sharper mouth than her sister, but a heart just as sweet.
We have a standing cereal date every morning before she goes off to school.
We’ve become cereal connoisseurs, ranking all the top contenders by flavor, crunch, and most importantly, sog-resistance.
Well, important to me. Charlie likes her cereal to look like pig slop.
After glancing over to Spencer’s empty desk, I check the time.
Almost nine. She drops Charlie off by seven fifty-five.
Her school is about ten minutes away. We’ve been drinking coffee at home together.
This morning, after telling me she felt extra exhausted, she downed three cups, so I know she’s not on a latte run. Where the hell is she?
Me
I have some concerns about Spike’s rodent ball.
Spencer
For the love of God, Nate. Let it go. He can’t hurt you. I’m getting ready to go Fear Factor on your ass.
Me
Huh?
Spencer
Lock you in a cage with a thousand guinea pigs to help you conquer your fear.
Me
Literally the only thing you could do to get yourself fired.
Spencer
What’s the problem with the rodent ball?
Me
According to all these internet articles, you’re not supposed to put him in a plastic ball. Something about hurting their spines. Apparently guinea pigs don’t bend like hamsters.
She doesn’t respond right away, and I know she’s online researching my claim.
Spencer
Well, shit. I didn’t know that. I thought I was giving him a little freedom and exercise at the office.
Me
Oh please. Give it up, woman. You thought a rat in motion would freak me out more than one in his carrier.
Spencer
Moving on… Should we take him to the doctor?
Me
Guinea pig vet… Lamest medical degree imaginable.
Spencer
There aren’t piggie-specific doctors. Surely you’re familiar with veterinarians.
Me
Nope, never heard of them. I think Spike’s going to be fine. Just no more ball. Even better idea—quit bringing him into the office.
I already tolerate that little punk in my home. It helps that he stays locked in the guesthouse with the girls. I bought their pet a two-story rat castle to play in. I upgraded his food. He drinks pH-balanced alkaline water now. He should have no need to leave his oasis.
Spencer
I just looked up alternatives. Would you have issues with a medium-sized acrylic pen by my desk?
Me
Big problems.
Spencer
So you’d be mad?
Me
Yes.
Spencer
How mad? Like I’ll-lose-my-job mad?
Me
Like I’ll-bend-you-over-my-desk-and-spank-you mad.
Shit. That slipped right out. Sometimes when I’m moving too fast, I text exactly what I’m thinking. I’m typing out an apology when Spencer replies.
Spencer
I’ll risk it. I’ll buy padded underwear.
Me
Who says you get to keep your underwear on?
Spencer
Now I’m feeling like you have ulterior motives with this spanking.
Me
Fuck around and find out, Spencer. Buy that cage. I’m begging you.
I have to adjust my slacks as my cock twitches uncomfortably.
It’s a constant problem I’m having lately.
The flirty texts are just the beginning.
Spencer is very unaware of when her thick nipples are showing.
I’m not. Every time she’s in a swimsuit or pajamas, I literally have to picture Spike and his beady eyes to calm my intrigue.
So why haven’t I made my move?
Because she said she liked me. I heard her talking to Charlie the day they moved in.
All the haughty attitude, glacier stares, witty comebacks…
It’s Spencer trying to fight her feelings because she thinks I want to sleep with her, then toss her aside.
Catch and release. Which is why I’m determined to prove her wrong.
The only way I can do that and prepare myself for something more permanent is little steps.
I’ve been practicing on Charlie.
Eleven-year-olds love keeping secrets. Charlie’s good at it, especially when I tell her it’s for Spencer’s benefit.
She’d do anything for her big sister. So, she is now my confidant.
I share bits and pieces, a little at a time.
I told her how Elise also had a pretty voice.
She didn’t have Charlie’s vocal range, but she was still talented. I’d play piano, Elise would sing along.
I ask Charlie about her grief, too. We swap stories about the realistic dreams we’ve had where it felt like our lost loved ones were back.
We admit how painful it is to wake up and realize it wasn’t real.
But the great thing is, Charlie’s patient.
When I can’t bear another step down memory lane, and have to change the subject, she doesn’t push.
Either she has the attention span of a guppy, or even at her young age, she’s so emotionally intuitive, she’s recognizing my limits.
Ten minutes go by and Spencer doesn’t respond. She’s now late for work, and as any other amazing boss would do to their OCD, perfectionist assistants, I give her hell.
Me
You’re officially late. Now, I can either write you up with a warning, or you can pull down your panties and bend over my desk. A couple swats and all is forgiven. Your call.
I’m expecting a polished, sass-studded response from the great Spencer, but instead…
Spencer
I don’t think I can make it today. Are you okay without me? The Johnson contracts are printed out and on your desk for review.
Me
No I can’t make it a day without you. Get your ass to work, lazy.
She responds with a picture of a thermometer reading.
One oh three. I could playfully accuse her of grabbing that picture off the internet, except her bare toes are showing.
I recognize her pink, chipped polish. The color matches the train wreck of an office I’m still working in.
If I spend too many more days in this pink prison, I’m going to have to forfeit my man card, but damn.
I rock back and forth in my blush, cloth executive chair.
This thing is really comfortable and the lumbar support is awesome.
And who is going to have the balls to make fun of the boss’s pink office, hm? I’d have their head.
Me
You were feeling fine this morning. You dropped Charlie off at school, right?
Spencer
I was trying to power through. If I act sick, Charlie’s suddenly extremely sick too.
Me
Ah, so fibs are contagious.
Spencer
Use that in my eulogy, if the guilt doesn’t kill you first.
Me
Aw, double funeral. That’s kind of sweet.
Spencer
Great. Not even in death can I get rid of you.
Me
Ha. Jokes aside, what’re your symptoms?
Spencer
Pounding headache, body aches, so tired, cold sweats, nauseous and some other stuff I’m not going to share with you.
Me
Meaning you’re spewing from both ends? Well, pumpkin, that’s the flu.
Spencer
Did you just say *spewing*?
Me
We’re all adults here.
Spencer
One of us is.
Me
I’m on my way. Are you a Tamiflu or Xofluza kind of girl?
Spencer
What?
Me
NyQuil, then?
Spencer
I’m fine, Nate. Just let me sleep it off. Please? Your new project manager is starting today anyway. Dawn told me to put a block on your calendar. You can’t miss that meeting.
I tap her photo and hit the call button. Spencer answers with a disgruntled, “What?” Her voice has already changed from when I saw her a couple hours ago. Whatever she has is escalating fast. She said she was extra tired. That’s probably what she’s been puking up, all that coffee.
“I can miss any fucking meeting I want. I’m coming home to take care of you…just as soon as I pick up a hazmat suit.”
“Hilarious,” she grumbles, devoid of actual mirth in her tone. “Out of curiosity, could you get a hazmat suit?”
“Easily.”
“Such a humble billionaire.”
“Aren’t I though?”
“Do you need anything else?” Her last question sounds more like a plea than her usual snark. Now, I’m worried.
“No. Seriously, what do you need?”
“Just some rest.”
Hmm, I’m not buying it. I get that she’s a suffer-in-silence type, no surprise there.
Spencer is much stronger than she gives herself credit for.
She carries the weight of the world on her back, and even when it cracks, she keeps moving.
The thing is, she’s not alone anymore. She can put away her brave face.
I want her to need me as much as I need her.
“Okay, get some sleep. I’ll check in with you the minute this meeting is over.”
We end the call, just in time for Dawn to enter my office.
“My oh my, you’re looking dapper today.”