17. Chloe
17
CHLOE
H enry recovered from his reaction to the new medicine fairly quickly once he stopped taking it and was able to resume attending his classes within two days.
He hadn’t realized I’d gone out that night and was very uneasy when I told him about it later.
“Why would your boss send you on errands at that hour?” he had asked, frustrated, and I’d instantly regretted telling him.
Now, he would worry about me.
“I don’t trust this guy, Chloe.”
A few days ago, I might have agreed.
But after that night, when I’d seen a different side to Sean, I wasn’t so sure.
But I’d assured Henry that it wouldn’t happen again.
“I’ll be at home with you in the evenings, Henry,” I’d promised.
I’d picked up his old medicines, paid up, and skipped paying for the PMP certification course.
I’d told myself it didn’t matter at all.
But now, as I sat in our van, waiting to pick up Henry from his late-night club meeting at his college, I wistfully looked at the few students walking across the campus.
Focus, Chloe . Skipping your PMP certification was not a sacrifice at all , I reminded myself, since you didn’t know if you had it in you to get PMP certified anyway, and you’re happy to put it off once more.
But I’d never gone to college, and nights like this—when I faced yet another setback in my career goals—were times when I found myself regretting parts of my life.
I had been eighteen when Dad left us, and I didn’t have it in me to care for Henry, earn an income, and deal with classes and grades.
I took the first job that I could find and made sure we could continue the same basic lifestyle we were used to.
And I’d wanted to be cheerful while doing it all.
Henry should never suspect I was unhappy.
What use was it when he was dealing with his own unhappiness?
It was close to seven at night, and I got out of the van, leaning against the side and looking up at the dark sky.
There was a lot to be thankful for too.
Greg, my apartment neighbor, had waved to me today from his kitchen window when I came home at half past five.
He hadn’t spoken to me yet, but I knew he was grateful for my bringing the trash in on his behalf.
Someday, I hoped to be able to invite him over for coffee and cake, but something told me that would take a while.
Sean had made sure I was reimbursed for all my expenses from that night, not even bothering to look at the receipts I’d so carefully collected.
The silence of the night broke with the shrill ring of my phone.
It was from Sean.
“Yes, Mr. Tassater?” I asked, my pulse racing when I answered.
So far, he’d kept his promise to not send me on errands at night.
In fact, he had been very reticent the past few days, canceling most of his meetings and preferring to work alone in his office as much as possible.
“Are you busy, Chloe?” he asked, his voice deep and low over the phone.
“Kind of actually. I was just out,” I said, hoping to preempt any further errands from him.
I needed to get home and keep my promise to Henry that I wouldn’t be away at night.
“What are you doing?”
I hesitated as I looked at the college building.
“Just waiting for someone.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
“I see,” he said finally.
I didn’t know what he’d made of that, but I found that I didn’t want to leave him hanging anymore.
I could let him in a little on what my life was like.
“I’m waiting for my brother,” I clarified.
I didn’t want to keep everything from him.
Just the heavy, troublesome bits.
I heard a deep exhale on his end.
“Your brother,” he said, and it wasn’t much of a question.
He seemed to mull over it.
“I hadn’t pictured you having a brother.”
I hadn’t known Sean was trying to piece together the world I lived in at all.
“Since we’re on the topic of families, I need a favor,” he said, his voice sounding rushed.
“After seeing how you interacted with Lucas that night, something occurred to me.”
As his PA, I was prepared to get calls from him at odd hours, even if he claimed he wouldn’t.
But I wasn’t used to discussing families.
“Can you help me figure Lucas out?” he asked.
I blinked. “Figure him out?”
A seven-year-old?
I wasn’t sure what deep troubles he thought Lucas was hiding.
Sean let out a deep breath, and I could picture him standing with his hand on his side, brows furrowed and looking lost.
“My ex-wife called me earlier and said she needs Lucas to stay with me for another month.”
“Oh.”
I hadn’t realized the wife was an ex.
I felt a sense of spark and hope unfurl in me that had no place doing so.
“Lucas and I don’t exactly get along. He … well, he hates me.”
I waited.
I knew interpreting a child’s behavior was hard, but to assume it equaled hate?
“I sincerely hope that’s not true, but I’m listening,” I said.
In the distance, I spied Henry wheeling himself out of the college building, and he stopped to scan the surroundings for me.
Spotting me, he waved before slowly making his way to me.
I waved back.
“If you could help me get along with Lucas,” Sean said, exhaling deeply, “well, that would be very much appreciated.”
“Me?” I repeated, sounding dumbfounded.
I could picture him nodding.
“We could pretend that you’re my friend and get Lucas to join us outdoors.”
Show up at places where Sean and his son are in attendance?
“Like parks and ice cream shops?” I asked, and he agreed after a beat.
I considered that. It did help that my evenings were free and Bruce-less, but I also had a younger brother who needed me.
In the distance, a classmate caught up to Henry and stopped to have a quick conversation, and he turned his head a few times to make sure I had noticed.
I did, and I gave him a thumbs-up from afar to let him know it was okay.
“So, what do you think?” Sean asked, his voice a distant echo.
Help him get along with his son?
I wasn’t sure how I’d even do that, my recent experience with Lucas notwithstanding.
“Why me?” I asked after a moment.
He grunted in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Is one incident enough to convince you that I’m the person for the job? I mean, there are a lot of behavioral counselors out there who can help. Professionals.”
“I trust you,” he said simply, as though that was all there was to it.
I wanted to ask why, and then I realized why.
“Is it because it’s easier to trust someone whose life you’ve seen fall apart in front of you?”
He sighed.
“You’re being dramatic. And having a fiancé stand you up on your wedding day isn’t life falling apart material.”
“I’d argue it is, but let’s move on,” I said in response.
Most mornings, I’d begin my day by admitting to myself that I was broken, and knowing that my expectations for myself were so low, I found it easier to go through my day.
We never expected anything from broken people.
Sean didn’t know the whole picture; if he did, he would realize just how much my life was fraying at the seams.
Henry’s classmate finally left, and he was coming over.
I would get another minute with Sean before I had to hang up.
“But you’re right. I did see you being vulnerable. And here you are, working with me, even after all the crap I gave you at work. I trust you now, Chloe.”
I guessed I should thank him, but it felt like he was painting me as an easy woman.
Something I didn’t fancy myself being.
“I was vulnerable that day at the café because everything I’d thought was important in my life left me the moment Bruce bailed on me. Just like how Lucas feels abandoned by the mom he’s probably lived with forever. Even if she’s gone for just a month. So, I’ll think about it because I want to help you—or rather, I want to help Lucas.”
His voice was wry.
“Lucas wins over me, eh?”
I grinned.
“Are you jealous, Mr. Tassater?”
“I am conscious of feeling a little let down at the moment.”
I laughed.
I could picture him in his office, standing by the large, expensive oak table.
“Are you still at work?” I asked.
He had been when I left at five earlier that evening.
“Yes.”
He was probably still wearing his suit, his jacket unbuttoned, looking out the windows at the sky.
It was dark out, and we were both looking at the same sky.
“Are you looking at the sky?”
“Yes, always the sky.”
“What about the skyline?” I asked.
When you worked on the thirty-fifth floor, you had a choice of things to look at beyond a great, expansive sky.
“Never.”
“What a pity when you have such a beautiful view,” I added, remembering spending early mornings looking out at the view after I placed his breakfast and drink on the table.
“Maybe someone like you might convince me to admire that too.”
“Maybe,” I said, realizing with a pang of regret that Henry was close to the van already.
I’d have to hang up soon.
I let out the back ramp for our van and waited.
“Could I think about your request for a few days before I give you an answer?”
“Sure. I want to say take as much time as you need, but I only have a month left with Lucas.”
“I’ll get back to you tomorrow. I find that it is usually best to sleep over things before I decide.”
“Are you afraid of being impulsive, Chloe?”
“Very. I can’t afford to be.”
He was silent.
“What happens when you’re impulsive, Chloe?” he asked, his voice low.
I didn’t speak for a few moments.
“I do things that I regret. I decide to marry the wrong man, for example. Or I’d tell—” I bit my lip.
“Me the truth about why you were so flustered that night I needed the Spider-Man figures?” he asked, completing the sentence for me.
I blew out a sharp breath.
“You remembered?” I asked finally.
“When it comes to you, I seem to have the sharpest of memories, Chloe.”
We were still for a few moments while Henry stopped a few feet away to wave at a friend across the street.
“You know, there’s a lot more to you than I imagined when I met you at the café,” I muttered.
“You imagined me and my life?” he demanded.
“I tried to,” I confessed.
“I tried to picture what kind of life someone like you might lead.”
“What parts are you disappointed in?” he asked, his voice tinged with urgency, as if that were suddenly all that mattered to him.
“Nothing,” I admitted, feeling surprised by my answer.
“So far, I’ve found nothing lacking. And that realization stuns me.”
I heard him clear his throat.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
To my right, Henry slowly rolled up the back ramp into the van while I waited.
Some vans had automated systems with buttons to help a wheelchair in, but ours was manual.
“Oh, and, Ms. Nichols, you don’t need to worry about me asking you about why you were flustered that night.”
“I don’t?” I asked, feeling surprised at this turn of events.
He hummed in assent.
“Because I know you’ll tell me the truth someday. When you trust me. Which you will, Chloe. There’s no escaping that.” And with that, he hung up.