Chapter 20 – Rule #9 No outside contact. Ever. #2
“We agreed a long time ago that I wouldn’t.” I’ve been tempted many times, but I gave him my word, and that’s important to me. I’ve gotten as far as the staff directory on his company’s website before stopping. “You remain the mystery man with a sexy voice that I can’t wait to meet.”
“What a pain in the ass you are, Kait,” he says with deep affection that makes me smile. “You make me dream. You give me hope. You make me want things I can’t have. I imagine a life that I’m not built for, and I keep coming back for more. Even though it’s all fiction.”
“You did it first, Henry,” I reply. “I’m paying you back. And it’s not all fiction. When I quit this job, you can expect a phone call from my real number, with my real name. Promise.”
“That sounds lovely,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his words, so I use it as an excuse not to bring up the business selling.
I’ve never said a peep about being more than an employee.
And it just seems easier to keep the bit about Chicago to myself.
Because I’m afraid of change. Because I’m afraid he will be mad. Or because I’m a coward.
“How are things in Kait Land?”
Julian always asks me that, and it’s close enough to Kaitlin that I flinch, even though I told Henry it’s my real name. I use my personal phone, using *67 to block my number, and call their office number so Henry doesn’t get charged for our chat.
“Can’t complain, you?”
“I’m great. Mr. Sterling isn’t available right now,” he says, thoroughly posh and British. “He won’t be back for a few hours.”
“That’s why I called. He told me he’s out of the office.”
“Oh, good,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you too. I laughed until I cried when you named that playlist Old People Songs and put Henry’s favorites on it. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” I say with a chuckle. I amuse me. “I had fun.”
“Well done. Truly,” he says. We chat about the unusually cold weather and random things until the conversation winds back around to Henry, as it always does.
“Hypothetically,” I say before stopping.
“Hypothetically, Kait, what’s on your mind?”
“If meeting Henry were to happen, what would be the best way to go about that? I’m thinking a surprise is best, but not a party-level surprise.”
“He’ll be insane with joy whether it’s in the middle of Times Square with a billboard or a coffee. You literally can’t go wrong,” he says, delighted.
“Maybe if you were there, it would be more okay? We could meet at a coffee shop, then head back to the office for cookies or something once I’m sure you two aren’t murderers?”
“He’s shy,” Julian says absently, and I wonder why he would say that. “I think you’re right. A low-key kind of introduction, if possible. Coffee would be low stress for everyone, even us murderers.”
“He’s so not shy,” I say with a smile. “I used to think of him as bashful, but I don’t know why. He’s positively chatty.”
“No, that’s not accurate,” Julian counters. “Henry’s quite reserved. He’s chatty with you all the time, me and Saoirse some of the time. You much more than us. He’s pretty tight-lipped; the more people in the room, the quieter he gets. He shares more with you than anyone.”
“Me?” I ask, unsure if Julian is being serious or joking. “But I don’t experience him as reserved or shy.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re his person,” he says, and my heart does this odd little bounce.
“He calls you if he’s gotten good news or if something goes wrong.
You’re the person he’s always reaching for first. If there’s anyone on the planet he wouldn’t be reserved with, it’s you. You light him up.”
It didn’t occur to me that the way he talks to me was something special.
“When would Henry’s favorite human like to visit?” Julian asks.
Today would be great.
“Maybe the thirtieth? It’s the Monday after his birthday weekend. He said he’s going somewhere with his brothers for the weekend.”
That works beautifully. We sign the papers for the sale the Friday before. Henry’s birthday is Saturday, and I can spend the weekend apartment hunting.
“Ten days from now? His calendar should be up-to-date… I’m looking.”
“I checked our shared calendar. He doesn’t always put details there, mostly his location and my work schedule so we don’t wake each other up, but Monday is wide open.”
“He has nothing scheduled for work on the thirtieth. He’s out of town the twenty-sixth to twenty-ninth.
I’ll block the thirtieth, from lunch on, for…
what sounds painfully boring? Oh, I know, corporate human resource policy revisions and legal review.
That sounds ghastly and outside of his usual work product.
He’ll dread it. It’ll make the surprise so much better.
” Julian cackles at his evil plan. I approve.
“Okay, coffee?” I ask, as my brand-spanking-new anxiety disorder kicks in.
“Early or before lunch? Should we make it lunch? Should we have lunch instead of coffee? Doughnuts? Cookies? Will he be upset that his afternoon was cleared for nothing? What if he doesn’t like that I’m in his office? What if he—”
“Kait,” he interrupts, firm and in command.
“I need you to breathe before you pass out from lack of oxygen. He’ll say his schedule was cleared for everything.
” Julian says it like it’s a fact, not a guess.
“Henry will worry from the moment he finds out.” He makes a little sound as he mulls over our plan.
“If he gets angsty and confides in a single Sterling, we will have twenty of them making up reasons to drop by here on a random Monday. We absolutely do not want extra Sterlings showing up.”
Oh hell no. Henry and Julian are perfect.
“I’ll get some coffee and treats delivered here,” he says, and there’s the scratching of a pen on paper as he takes notes.
“I’ll make a reservation for lunch to follow if you’re having a nice time.
If you aren’t, you leave and go about your day.
What else can I facilitate in anticipation of your meet-incomparably-cute? ”
“Well, there is one thing. I’m not sure if you can help,” I say, tentative.
“It’s kind of a pain in the ass. I waited too long for his birthday.
I need your help with some framing. I’m sending him a piece of art for the big day, and it’ll need to be stretched and framed.
I can’t find a place in Columbus that could get the framing done fast enough—they all say two weeks or longer.
Giving him an unstretched canvas is a little too close to giving him a tie and making him pay for Hamilton tickets to show it off.
I could give it to him Monday to give you a few extra days since he’ll be gone for his actual birthday. ”
I finished it yesterday, signing Eóghann MacGregor in silver paint with a tiny, delicate brush.
I was going to sign Kaitlin MacGregor, since the cat will be out of the bag Monday, but the painting feels like a promising start to my art life.
I need a professional name for medical illustration, and Kaitlin MacGregor makes sense for that, with Eóghann MacGregor for the side hustle.
Eóghann is a weird-as-fuck name, hence, a good artsy one.
“Absolutely, I can do that. Can you overnight it? I’ll find a local place that can turn it around in time for his birthday. We’ll have more options here.”
“I’ll send the painting FedEx. Let me know what I owe you.” Henry’s worth spending some money, just this once.
“What else can I help you with, future BFF?” He pronounces it like biffiff, and I laugh.
“Is Wrigleyville a nice area?” I ask, tentative in my effort to sound casual. “You know, safe?”
“It is.”
“Is it convenient to the Near West Side?” I ask, trying to play it cool but failing. “If you were to commute?”