34
“That was genius today, the way you came up with restructuring that entire line.” Bobby says as he opens up our salads. “One tweak to the envelopes used, saved hundreds of thousands and you just came up with it on the fly.”
“Oh. Thanks. Just seemed obvious.” I shrug.
“To you, because you’re an operational genius. Not obvious to us common people.” He says quietly.
“Hey, I—Oh.” Jenn bursts in and then stops. “Didn’t realize you guys were having a working lunch. Again.” She gives me a look.
A look I don’t need.
Because Bobby is not in love with me and I am not leading him on.
Am I?
I have gone through my mental checklist again and again. I’m not attracted to Bobby. Aside from the occasional complement, our conversations are always about work. There’s nothing physical or emotional going on here.
Not really.
My gut clenches.
Not really?
“I’ll catch you tomorrow? Sushi?” Jenn asks.
“Yes, sounds great. After the C-Suite huddle, not before.” I clarify.
She nods and then leaves, shooting me another glare over her shoulder before she disappears out of sight.
“You know what, I should probably, um, do some reading while I eat today. Those reports from purchasing and also I’ve got those new hire requests to review.”
“Okay.” He says, not getting it.
“Do you mind?” I ask, then he stumbles all over himself gathering his lunch and hightailing it out of my office.
“Open or closed?”
“Closed.”
“Just buzz if you need anything.” He says before shutting my door.
After he’s gone I stare at my office wall.
I feel bad. Not bad.
Guilty.
About what, exactly? I think about Bobby. There are no butterflies. No thrill at seeing him. No emotional entanglements. I don’t think he’s dating anyone but I wouldn’t mind if he was. No jealousy there.
But…
I really do look forward to our time together. Like a friend? Yes. But it’s more than that…it’s…
“You’re an operational genius.”
It’s words of affirmation. That’s it.
It’s my primary love language, according to that book I read years ago.
And I’m not getting it from Adam.
I’m getting it from someone else.
Crap.
This cannot be good.
But…it’s also not really crossing any lines. If he was a woman, I’d feel the same, eager to spend time with someone who makes me feel good…wouldn’t I?
Hmmm.
Maybe not. I know he checks me out. I know he thinks I’m “utterly beautiful,” because he told me once when I had been up all night long with two vomiting kids and muttered out loud that I looked like an ogre.
Still. He’s not in love with me. Jenn is wrong.
I’m not in love with him and I’m not leading him on.
I do maybe spend too much time with him beyond what’s necessary. I do need to watch how much I lean on him for support.
So.
I’ll watch it.
_____
“You sure you’re good, sweetheart?” Dad asks before leaving.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “It’s always like this at the end of a quarter. I’ll stay until it’s done. I’m not going to crunch numbers over the weekend.”
“I can understand that. You got the boys covered, then?”
“Yes, Adam’s on it.”
“You mean he’s servin’ up pizza and Paw Patrol?”
I laugh, “Probably.”
“He’d be lost without you.”
“Eh, he’d be fine,” I wave off the comment.
Even without the logistical conversations, Adam still seems bothered. By anything, everything, nothing. I’ve stopped trying to ask about his day, stopped sharing about mine. We have no common threads anymore beyond the boys. Even that feels tattered, he gets the same school emails, sees the shared photos in the photo stream. He’s up to date and so am I.
He’s probably glad I’m working late so we don’t have to do our awkward, quiet dance around each other.
“Jenn staying to help you?” Dad looks around.
“No, you know her, she had a hot date. But I have Bobby, Carla and Jean.”
“Well,” he frowns, always worrying about me. “If you’re sure that’s enough help?” I nod and he nods too. “You’re the best, honey. See you Sunday.”
My dad taps the door frame and then heads out. He would normally stay but he has a charity dinner. One I’m happy to miss because if Adam hated them when we were young and somewhat under the radar, there’s not an adequate word for how much he loathes them now. I started going by myself but then that started feeling more sad than fun.
Like a lot of things in my life.
Not everything, of course. My three mini Adams did not inherit their dad’s temperament. They are the smiliest, sweetest, goofiest bunch of cuties I’ve ever seen. Worth all the lack of sleep, the leaky boobs and saggy skin and everything else. And boy, howdy, they love me. They are exhausting and if they’re not trying to break their own bones, or each other’s, they’re dismantling the house, but they bring me a lot of joy.
My sisters bring me joy too, even if I feel like I’m more their nagging mom, or maybe their activities director, than their big sis.
My work is deeply fulfilling.
There’s a lot of good stuff.
“Mexican or Thai?” Bobby asks.
I smile, the team always wants one of those two options on really late nights.
“Both.”
“Your dad’s right. You are the best.”
He leaves before I can respond.
I can hear the team bustling and joking in the conference room. It’ll be a long, hard night but we’ll have fun too.
But…
Something is just off. Has been for months. Years.
It’s like if my marriage—the partnership I wish Adam and I had, that we used to have…or maybe that we never actually had—if that core relationship is unstable, nothing else fits into place properly. Happy times with the boys are strained under the surface. Conversations with my sisters feel like lies by omission.
And I have no idea how to fix it.
It’s like Adam and I have gone too long, too far past the point where we could’ve had a conversation, could’ve hugged it out or brainstormed solutions or gone to couples therapy…ha! As if Adam would ever go to therapy. All that talking? The horror. I pull out my phone.
Susan: Did you find the carrots and apples Loretta cut for their dinner?
Adam: Yes
Susan: Ok. It’ll be late so I’ll see you in the morning?
Adam: Ok.
Ugh.
I can’t fix it. Not tonight.
I can run these numbers and update our projections though.
I can throw myself into work. I can operate the hell out of my operations job.
So I do.
For hours.
When I check my phone to see if Adam needed anything, it’s after midnight.
Only myself and Bobby are left.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s call it.”
He doesn’t protest. We got everything done, we just haven’t gone back through the spreadsheets to double check and cross reference. I’ll have the team do that first thing in the morning. We get up and gather papers and folders, Bobby starts throwing away trash.
“Thanks, great work.” I yawn at him before heading down the hall.
I step into my office, eyes drooping, and trip over the very soft but apparently too-fluffy area rug that fills the floor. I twist to catch myself but all the papers aren’t so fortunate. The whole evening’s worth of work goes flying. I breathe for a beat, then stand and survey the damage. Is there a fan on in here? How did papers go literally everywhere?
“Aw man,” I whine.
“Susan?” I hear Bobby, who must’ve heard me. He appears at the door. “What happened?”
“Attack of the shag rug. Don’t ask me how papers ended up in that far corner. Ugh.” I kneel down and start gathering. Bobby does too. “You don’t have to stay, I can get it.”
“You stay, I stay.” He says quietly. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I just start scooping and rearranging as quickly as I can.
“Ow!” I say when I stretch with my left side.
“What is it?” Bobby snaps to attention.
I hiss at the pain. “Guess I pulled something trying not to fall.”
“Stay still.” Bobby says and then he moves to me in two long steps.
“I’m fine, real—”
He squats to put his hands on my shoulders. And massages.
I freeze.
His breath is on my neck and one hand moves to hold my neck, the other kneads my shoulder. I blink, mind racing.
“Mmm, that’s it,” he whispers onto my skin. No moans. He moans the words at me, with his lips on my neck.
On my neck!
!
I shoot up, away, as fast as I can.
“Bobby, I don’t think that—”
He stands. “Sorry!”
“I, um, you, uh, you should go home.” I say, panting.
He stares at me, opens his mouth, closes it. Exhales heavily through his nose, nods once, then stalks out of the room.
I collapse against the credenza on the side office wall.
What the hell!
What do I do now!
I have to let him go, obviously.
No. Transfer him.
Why has he been my EA for so long anyway?
Because I liked the attention.
Shit! Crap! crap crap crap crap…
This could be very bad.
No.
It’ll be fine. In the bright morning light, after a sleep and a coffee, it’ll be okay. I will just transfer him because it’s the natural time to do so. He’ll probably be glad to be moving on, getting a raise. He’s a sweet guy, he’ll understand.
_____
“No, I don’t understand.” Bobby says, angry. I’ve never seen him angry before.
“Bobby, you’ve been with me way too long, it’s time to move up.”
“Not that,” he spits. “We’ve been playing around the edges of this thing long enough. Last night I felt it just like you did. You want me, I want you, why are you fighting it?”
WHAT!
“What? Bobby. I’m married.”
He scoffs. “So what? I’ve shown you I can be discreet.”
“Bobby, I’m sorry if I gave you the impression—”
“Impression!” Patches of his pale cheeks are turning redder by the second. “Is that what you call ungodly hours at the office alone? Tight outfits and batting eyelashes and hanging on my every word to you?” He steps to the side, to walk around my desk. “Susan, it’s me.”
I’m going to vomit.
I hold up a hand. “I’m sorry Bobby, I don’t feel that way.” He freezes in his tracks. “And even if I did, I'm married. ”
“Susan, I love you. And you don’t love him.”
“I, I do.”
Do I?
“You don’t. And you’re just scared of something deep, something real.” Bobby fumes and I stand behind the barrier of my glass desk, mouth hanging open. There’s no way he can know the reality of my arranged marriage. But he must have picked up on a lot more than I thought over the past year.
“Let’s keep this professional.” I finally say. He scoffs, but I go on. “It was always the plan for you to move on and move up. You can choose which department you go to, you’ll be in an Associate director position.”
“Vice President.” He says.
“What?”
“I want a VP position.”
My turn to scoff. VPs report to the C-suite, no one goes from an executive assistant to a vice president, no matter the department.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I know you absolutely can, Ms. Canton and if I can’t have you, then that’s what I want instead.”
“Uh, so you love me but now you’re going to blackmail me?”
He deflates a little and looks at the floor. He sighs. I think maybe the Bobby I know has returned.
“I don’t want to do this but I think if I push you, you’ll see the truth.” He looks up at me. “We’re good for each other. I would be so good to you. Good for you.”
My eyebrows hit the ceiling.
I cannot believe I have been so wrong about this.
“Bobby. Please be reasonable. You’ll be a director, you’ll be on your way to VP in a year or two, and then you know my dad has big plans for you after that.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Love isn’t reasonable, Susan. If you’re breaking us apart, you’re giving me VP.”
“How could I possibly—”
“You’ll figure it out. Or…you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” He says before stomping across my office. He pauses with his hand on the door. “Or you give into this, give into us. Let me stay. Just let me love you. Think about it, please.” He pleads with his eyes, then he opens the door and leaves.
I don’t think about it.
I pick up the phone.
“Dad. We have a situation.”
_____
“Hey guys I brought Starb—woah, who died?” Skye says when she walks in to what’s become a Def Con One Damage Control meeting.
In the hours since Bobby stormed out, Dad, HR, Jenn and a few board members have gone over the situation again and again.
Jenn gave me one look that said I told you so without saying the words out loud. She hugged me tight, then she got down to problem solving. No shame, no blame.
Dad has been ping ponging around between a lot of big emotions. Blaming himself for putting me in this position with ‘an ambitious assistant that’s a member of the opposite sex.’ He’s also angry with me for letting it go on so long when I admit I did suspect he had feelings for me but didn’t think he’d ever act on them. He also pivots quickly between ‘of course the man fell in love with you’ and ‘you should’ve known better’ and ‘well, did you wear tight clothes to lead him on?’
It’s been a rough morning.
In response to Skye’s innocent question, we all freak out.
“No one.” Jenn says.
“Nothing!” I squeak.
“Our billables with Whittier.” Dad mumbles, upset most of all with how expensive our lawyers are and how complicated this is all going to be.
“What’s going on?” Skye places the coffees down on the conference table that sits on the side of Dad’s corner office. She also looks out the doorway to where the office is buzzing with gossip. We don’t know yet what they know. But Bobby is not at his desk and I know I was spotted crying— weak, Susan! —and all the heavy hitters are having a hushed meeting in the CEO’s office.
“Just boring legal stuff.” Dad covers for me.
“Doesn’t seem boring to me,” Skye says, still watching the employees scuttle around, sneaking glances at the corner office door.
“Sweetheart, we’re going to be tied up in this for a while. Thanks for the coffees.” He starts to guide Skye back out.
She looks around, locking eyes with Dad, Jenn and me. She doesn’t miss my mascara is gone and my eyes are rimmed in crimson. “Okayyyy,” She says as she leaves.
Dad tells her to come back in the afternoon and shuts the door behind her.
“She’s right, they’re all going nuts out there. We have to put a lid on this asap.” I admit.
“Yes.” Dad exhales the word. “But right now you should go talk to Adam, before the rumor grows into something else and crawls its way to his offices.”
“Right.” I gather my things and start to tear up again, so embarrassed and angry.
My dad hugs me on my way out. “It’ll all be okay, sweetheart. These things happen to people in our position. Adam knows that.”
I nod.
But as I go to my car and start the drive to Adam’s office, I’m positive.
Everything will not be okay.