6. Adrian
Chapter six
Adrian
T he elevator dings its usual cheery chime, mocking me as I step into the sterile halls of my own damn firm. It’s too early for this. Work’s been insane ever since merger negotiations began two months ago, and it doesn’t help that Isabella and I have been clashing ever since … well, things got complicated between us.
Suzy’s voice cuts through the morning fog in my head as I make my way to my office. “Mr. Cole. You’ve got that meeting with Aurora later, remember? To go over the financial projections.”
“Thanks, Suzy,” I mutter, offering her a ghost of a smile. The reminder is both a blessing and a curse; I can’t afford to screw up these negotiations. “Can you grab me a coffee, by the way?”
“Sure, Mr. Cole.”
My jacket comes off once I step into my office and I’m business casual in seconds flat. However, there’s nothing casual about the mess waiting for me on my desk. Isabella’s financial projections—or rather, the incomplete mockery of them—sit before me, taunting me with their inadequacy. My brows knit together, confusion morphing into annoyance faster than I can say “missing data. ”
“Seriously, Isabella?” I grumble under my breath, shoving back from my desk with enough force to send my chair rolling away. I make the short journey to her office, my stride a little too forceful, my knock a little too sharp.
“Come in,” she calls, the warmth in her voice at odds with the cold fury building in my chest.
I step inside … and damn it all if Isabella King doesn’t look like a siren dressed in corporate silk. That teal-blue blouse of hers makes her eyes pop—a stormy green sea I’ve drowned in before. And that skirt, hugging her like it’s privy to secrets I’ve only begun to uncover.
“Isabella,” I start, clenching my jaw when her name leaves my lips. It’s like tasting a forbidden fruit—sweet yet bound to end in disaster. But there’s no time for hunger now, only the bitter taste of frustration. “Several of the projections we discussed in our last meeting are missing. Please tell me you just misplaced them and didn’t decide to play hide-and-seek with crucial documents.”
Her eyes narrow, a silent challenge. “I finished every last one of them and gave them to you, Adrian. If anything’s missing, it’s not on me.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I shoot back, the heat of our proximity igniting a fire I have no time to put out. “Because unless they’re playing invisible, those numbers aren’t where they should be.”
“Maybe you need glasses then,” she retorts, her spine straight as an iron rod. She’s got nerve, I’ll give her that.
“Or maybe,” I say, leaning forward, my voice low, “you need to double-check your work before handing it over.”
“I gave everything I drafted to you.” Defiance sparks in her gaze, and for a moment, I almost admire her tenacity. Almost.
“If you’re so sure, come to my office. I’ll show you the gaping hole where those projections should be. ”
Besides, I can barely stomach the thought of lingering in her office—a space tainted with memories best left unvisited during working hours—so I usher her out, needing the sanctuary of my own four walls.
We walk in tense silence, the distance between us crackling with unsaid words and regrets we’d both rather not acknowledge. As soon as we cross the threshold into my office, I gesture toward the chaos of papers on my desk with a flourish.
“See for yourself,” I challenge.
Isabella’s eyes scan the desk, and she frowns, plucking the stack of documents with an efficiency that irks me. She flips through them with the precision of a surgeon, then points to the gap where several pages should nestle.
“Adrian, these aren’t even in the correct order that I turned them in. You clearly lost them. Just admit it.”
Her accusation slices through the air, leaving a trail of indignation in its wake. “I did no such thing. They’ve been here on my desk all week.”
“Well, maybe Suzy—”
“Leave Suzy out of this,” I snap, “you’ve been nothing but careless since this whole merger started.”
“Careless?” Isabella scoffs, lips curling in disbelief. “Your standards aren’t just high—they’re perched on top of Everest, and even then, I doubt they’d be satisfied.”
“Maybe so,” I concede. “But for now, all I need is for you to draft a new set of documents. Replace the missing ones.” When she doesn’t say anything, I lean in closer. Probably too close. “Redo them. Now.”
The fury in her eyes would be enough to set the room ablaze if looks could ignite. She whirls around, her skirt swishing in silent reprimand, and storms out of my office like a tempest in red-bottom high heels.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, watching the door slam shut behind her with a force that mirrors my pounding headache.
I’m pacing in my office like a caged animal when Suzy waltzes in, the scent of Arabica in her wake. “Your coffee, Mr. Cole,” she chirps, oblivious to the storm clouds brewing over my head.
“Thanks,” I grumble, still simmering from Isabella’s latest “contribution” to our shared misery. I seize the moment to vent. “You won’t believe the mess Ms. King has made—missing projections, documents amiss ... it’s like working with a tornado these days.”
Suzy sets the cup on my desk, her brows knitting together in a way that spells trouble. “But didn’t you take those documents home Monday night?”
I freeze, mid-rant, the heat climbing up my neck. “What?”
“I recall you took the financial projections home to look over because your nanny couldn’t stay past 4 p.m. It seems like you might have only taken half of the stack home with you.”
Right. I had brought them home but never looked at them. Caleb had a science project due the next morning, so those documents have been sitting on my dining table ever since. The mistake is mine, not Isabella’s.
“Should I let Isabella know she doesn’t need to redo them?” Suzy’s voice is soft, tinged with sympathy I don’t deserve.
“Ahem.” I clear my throat, already weaving my web of self-justification. “No, no. Let Ms. King flex those organizational muscles, it’ll be good for her.”
Suzy eyes me, a flicker of skepticism in her gaze, but nods all the same. She exits, leaving me alone with my bruised ego and a coffee that’s suddenly lost its appeal.
My pride, stubborn as it is, seals my lips. Let Isabella think what she wants; I’ll handle my mistakes in silence.
** *
Later that afternoon, I stride into the neon-lit arcade, Caleb’s hand in mine, my mind still a tangled mess from the morning’s fiasco. He’ll be spending the weekend at my mom’s, though, and I want to get a little father-son time in with him before he leaves.
The place is buzzing with the sound of video games and children’s laughter, a welcome distraction from the endless paperwork and bruised pride waiting back at the office.
“Can we play the racing game first?” Caleb’s eyes are wide, his excitement contagious.
“Sure thing, speed demon,” I reply, ruffling his hair as we make our way through the maze of arcade cabinets.
We spend the next hour jumping from one game to another, sinking tokens into machines like they’re going out of style.
Eventually, we land in a booth with a greasy pizza between us. Caleb takes a bite, cheese stretching comically from his mouth to the slice. He says through a mouthful, “Dad, my tooth still hasn’t come out.”
“Let me see.” I peer into his mouth, noting the stubborn angle of the baby tooth. “It’s just taking its sweet time because it knows you’re tough. But if it starts acting up, Dr. Gomez can show it who’s boss.”
He nods, looking slightly reassured, then hits me with a question that has me choking on my pepperoni slice. “Are you gonna be okay by yourself this weekend? You always say grown-ups get lonely too.”
“Lonely?” I chuckle, masking the sting of truth in his words. “I’ll have my hands full with work all weekend anyway. I’ll miss you like crazy, but I won’t have time to be lonely.”
He tilts his head, frowning. “But my friends’ dads have wives. Don’t you want someone to hang out with?”
“Kid, I’ve got you. That’s all the company I need.” I grin, but there’s an ache in my chest that wasn’t there before.
Caleb smiles, and I feel a little less adrift.
“Okay, let’s finish up. We still have to pack before I drive you to Grandma’s for the weekend.”
Caleb nods. “Okay, Dad.”
As he devours the last of his slice, I watch, my heart swelling. This boy is the best thing I’ve ever done, even if I’m flying solo on the whole parenting gig.
Life might be a complicated mess of work and responsibilities, but moments like these—they’re pure and simple. Just me and my boy against the world.
A half an hour later, we pull into the driveway. Mom’s car is already parked, of course.
“Grandma’s here!” Caleb calls out as I kill the ignition.
Before I even open the car door, Caleb’s already unbuckled and halfway out of his seat, eager to run inside.
When we step into the living room, Mom’s sitting on the couch, already surrounded by Caleb’s weekend bags like she’s gearing up for a full-scale military operation.
“Hey, Mom,” I say as we step inside, my voice echoing off the walls of the house that suddenly feels too big, too empty. “I told you I was going to drive him to Pasadena.”
“I was already in the area. Went shopping on Rodeo.”
I breathe out a laugh. “Then why don’t you just move back to Beverly Hills?” But I know her answer is already no. She’ll never move from the house she and my father lived in for over thirty years. “Thanks for packing his stuff, Mom. We were going to do that before you got here.”
“Of course, honey,” she replies, her eyes scanning my face with that unnerving parental x-ray vision. “Wanted to save you some time.”
“Appreciate it.” I peer down at Caleb. “Ready to go, little man?”
“Yep!” He beams, and we walk outside where I help him into the backseat of Mom’s car, my hands lingering a second too long on the seatbelt.
“Adrian,” Mom starts, leaning against the car door as if bracing herself, “I’ve been talking with Margie—you remember, my friend from bridge club? Her daughter, Elise, just got back from competing. She’s single now, quite a catch …”
“Mom—” I start, but she barrels on.
“25, an Olympic gymnast, and she thinks you’re handsome!” She looks at me expectantly, as if she’s just handed me a winning lottery ticket rather than a potential dating disaster.
“Listen, Mom,” I sigh, my patience thinning like worn-out fabric. “After Colette, I’m not jumping into anything. I’m good on my own, really.”
Her shoulders droop a smidge, and I feel a tug on my conscience. “It’s been three years, Adrian.”
“When I’m ready, I promise I’ll find someone. On my terms,” I add, softer this time. “Thank Margie for me, but tell them I’m not interested.”
“Okay, honey,” she says, but her eyes are clouded with concern I don’t want or need.
“Bye, Dad!” Caleb calls from the backseat, breaking the tension.
“Bye, buddy.” I lean in, kiss the top of his head, and it’s like pressing pause on all my worries for a split second. “Be good for Grandma.”
“Always am!” He grins, and I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Thank you again, Mom. For everything.”
“Anything for my boys,” she replies, her smile warming the chill from my bones.
As they drive away, the house swallows me whole. Trust is a currency I can’t afford anymore; every investment has gone bust. Love’s become a luxury item, and I’m not shopping for that kind of heartache again.
Sure, I always wanted two kids, a wife who loves me for who I am—not how much money I have or how handsome I look—and hell, maybe even a cat, but that dream’s collecting dust on the highest shelf, far out of reach.
Maybe someday I’ll take it down, give it a once over, see if it still fits. But for now, I’ve got a son who lights up my world, and a job that consumes every spare thought.
I lock the door on the quiet house, on the quiet life, and let the silence settle around me like a familiar, if not entirely comfortable, blanket.
As I make my way into the kitchen to whip up a whiskey sour, my mind wanders to Isabella. It’s been two months, and our encounter in her office is still lingering in the back of my mind like an itch I can’t scratch. Would she be open for a round two?
Stop it, Cole. Cannot go there. I take a sip of my drink as if it’ll chase down the thought.
This is why single dads should not be left alone for an entire weekend. Lonely, huh? Caleb just might be on to something.