Текст книги "Pure Abandon"

Автор книги: Jeannine Colette

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

The gowns are stunning. Row after row, there is one more beautiful than the other. I don’t know where to start, so Gwen grabs several and makes a room for me. I scan the price tags to make sure she’s not going overboard. The prices are fine, but the sizes are all wrong.

“Mom, these are too small,” I hold up the tag in my hand.

“No, Kathryn. Your clothes are too big.” Her eyes look me up and down. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. Trust me. They’ll fit.”

I roll my eyes and head into the dressing room. The first is a pale-pink A-line that—to my surprise—fits. Maybe I have lost weight. I don’t know how. I feel like all I do is eat with Malory.

I open the door to show Gwen the pink dress and she shakes her head in disapproval.

Next I try on a strapless plum satin number. It’s slimming and sophisticated. I love it! Opening the door, I look out for Gwen. “What do you think?” I beam.

Gwen tilts her head to the side and twists her mouth. “Not for you.”

“I like it!”

“Kat, it does nothing for you. It’s too boring. Try on the red one,” she directs.

Fine! I slam the dressing room door like I’m a fourteen-year-old. Gwen lets out a laugh. “You’ll never change!”

The red dress has a two-part neckline that I get my head stuck in twice before finally figuring it out. I’m so aggravated by the time I get it on properly; I automatically hate the dress no matter how it looks.

I open the door to Gwen standing in front of me, holding an ivory dress. “Try this on.”

“You haven’t even looked at the one I have on!” I huff.

“I hate it. Here.” She shoves the dress in my hand. “This is the one.”

I hold up the ivory dress. “I am not wearing white. It’s not my wedding day.”

“Put it on.” Gwen walks away. Flashbacks of my prom, formals, and even wedding dress shopping pop in my head. The woman is maddening to shop with.

And just like with my prom dress, formal, and wedding dress… she is right.

Damn her.

The gown is exquisite, worldly, and makes me look like a goddess. It is a Theia form-fitted number with a low, soft V neckline and spaghetti straps. The silk fabric clings to my body but hangs delicately as it swoons down my hips into an elegant cascade of delicate petals. The hemline drapes gracefully on the floor. I look like a goddess walking on a bed of floating white rose petals.

Ivory on ivory, it is the epitome of classic. I’m in love.

I open the door to allow Gwen to gloat, but she isn’t there.

“Mom?”

Picking up the bottom of the dress, I sneak barefoot out of the dressing room. Where did she go?

As I’m about to turn around back into the dressing room, I hear a familiar voice.

“He wanted to spend time together tonight, but I was already at the mall. I mean, he can’t ask me last minute to spend time with him. A girl needs to pamper!” She lets out a laugh.

Hiding behind a rack of clothing, I eavesdrop on the conversation.

“You have to see him. He’s gorgeous! And his body is to die for… Yeah, yeah… We run together… In the park… Yes, totally hot bod. It makes it all worth it.” She continues.

What is worth it? Who is she running with? And is she talking to herself? I slide down to the floor and squat low so she doesn’t see me. I have to get a glimpse.

Putting my hands on all fours, I crawl around the rack. Shirt sleeves and price tags are hitting me in the face as I peer around the side of the rack.

It’s her.

The lioness!

The girl from the park, who knows my husband and calls my son Jack, is on the phone and looking at a display of undergarments. Very sexy undergarments, I might add.

What’s her name? Beth, Brie, Baily… Shit!

“We are seeing each other Tuesday. I know, right?” She continues. “I have to find something killer to wear. We are going to…” She starts to walk away. I can’t hear. I crawl closer.

I’m about to round the corner when I’m interrupted by a pair of feet. I don’t know those feet. They are clad in black aerosols. Cowering down, I gaze up hesitantly. I’ve been caught by a salesgirl.

“Excuse me, miss. May I ask why you’re crawling on the ground in a thousand-dollar dress?”

A thousand dollars!

I slowly creep up to a standing position.

“I… um…” My mouth goes dry.

She crosses her arms and taps her foot. This day just can’t get any better.

“There you are!” Gwen emerges by my side, holding Jackson. “Oh, don’t you look beautiful!”

My scowling eyes meet hers. “A thousand dollars?”

“If you don’t like it, don’t get it,” Gwen suggests nonchalantly.

I turn to the sales girl. Her lips are set in a hard line and she’s raising an eyebrow. There is no use arguing, with either of them.

“I’ll take the dress,” I mumble beneath my breath.

The sales girl gives me a smug look. “I’ll ring you up.”

As she walks away, Gwen hands me a shoebox. “Here, these will go perfect!”

I look at the expensive high-end label on the box and shake my head. “I think we’ve done enough damage.”

“Try them on, Kathryn. Listen to your mother.” Gwen tries to shove the shoebox in my arms.

“No.” I shove it back.

“Kat…” She admonishes.

“No.” I push the box away again.

“Kat…”

“I said no!” I shout.

Gwen’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Is that Jack?” an excited voice calls from beyond the rack.

Are you fucking kidding me?

The lioness pops up her bubbly head and leans over to give Jackson a kiss.

Gwen looks at her and smiles. “A friend! Hello dear, I’m Kathryn’s mother. Gwendolyn. You can call me Gwen.” She holds out her hand.

“Hi, Gwen.” She shakes my mother’s hand. “I’m Becca.”

Becca!

The lioness who was just on the phone, talking about, who I presume is, MY husband, is kissing MY baby and shaking hands with MY mother, while I’m standing in a thousand-dollar dress I just dragged across the floor.

I grab the shoebox from my mother’s hands.

“Oh, give me the damn shoes!”

“What do you mean you think Gabriel is cheating?”

I’m a chicken shit. I can’t talk to Gabriel about it. Mostly because there has been zero privacy in my house since Gwen is staying for a few days. Lord knows I can’t talk to my mother about this.

Even if I did talk to him – If he’s having an affair, he’s not goanna say, “Oh, since you ask, yes. Yes, I am having an affair with the blonde with big boobs from the park. And yes, she did buy sexy lingerie to wear for me. Thank you for asking.”

Instead, I hold my breath until I see Malory, my sounding board.

“Part of me thinks he is and part of me knows better. I mean, this is Gabriel we’re talking about. It would be so out of character. He’s one of the good guys… right?” I ramble, disgusted that I’m even thinking this. My foot is shaking a mile a minute, and I’ve chewed through two pen caps this morning alone.

“Yes, Gabriel is definitely one of the good guys.” Malory tries to comfort me, her hand leaning across the desk to touch my arm. It’s an odd gesture for Malory. It seems forced.

“But you say it all the time. He is good-looking and successful. I mean, why wouldn’t women be thrusting themselves at him all day long?” My head falls in my hands. There is a mountain of work on my desk to be done, but I can’t concentrate. “There is this girl in the park…”

Malory scowls. “What do you mean a ‘girl in the park?”

“Blonde, perfect, and well acquainted with my husband and son.” The thought makes me shiver. “And to top it off, I heard her talking to someone about this guy she’s seeing.”

I let out a breath of air. I feel defeated. “There was something she said. She made a reference to the guy making it all worth it. Like there was an obstacle they had to overcome.” My fear is that obstacle is me.

“Tell me more about the girl. What did she look like? Was she young?”

“I’d say early-twenties. She was—” The ringing phone interrupts me. I put my finger up to Malory. “Hold that thought.”

I pick up the phone.

“Hello.”

“This is Cecelia from Mr. Asher’s office. He’s requested your company in his office. Shall I alert him of your availability?”

Is this the right time to be dealing with Asher?

He’s your boss, Kat. Yes.

“Yes. I’ll be up in five minutes.” I hang up.

Malory’s black eyes question my phone call.

“Asher has summoned me.” I answer her unspoken question.

“Huh,” she replies with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Huh. Shall I say more?” Her lips fix into a smirk.

“You’ve said enough.” I stand, grabbing my files for the gala. I’m sure he wants to go over the permits and timeline.

“If Gabriel is having an affair, you want to catch him in the act. Otherwise, he’ll just cover his tracks,” Malory says, and I nod in agreement. I should be taking notes. “Do you have any proof of this alleged affair?” Malory questions.

“No.” There is comfort in that fact.

“Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not talk to Gabriel about this. We need to come up with a strategy first.” Malory stands and smoothes out her onyx dress. “Did you drive in today?”

“Yes. Why do you need to borrow it for some reason?”

Malory grabs her bag and thinks for a second before changing her mind. “No. I just wanted to know if you had a train to catch. When you get back, I still have questions for you. I want to know who this younger other woman is.”

I stall at the door before answering. “If my husband is sleeping with another woman, does it really matter how young she is?”

Malory stares at me blankly as I walk out of the room.

Upstairs in Asher’s office, I take a seat and stare at big-eyed fish. They’re so naïve, thinking their perfect little aquarium is a paradise just for them, when, in reality, there is an entire ocean out there they have no idea about. They only know what they’ve been lied to about.

The large door behind me opens and a dark-skinned woman with hazel eyes and a tiny frame exits Asher’s office. She’s buttoning the top button of her blouse as she saunters over to the elevator. Shouldn’t she at least have the decency to put herself together inside the office? It’s like she wants people to know what she’s up to.

“Ms. Grayson.” Cecelia draws my attention away from the afternoon booty call. “Mr. Asher will see you now.”

Oh, what this poor girl must have to witness on a daily basis.

“Close the door,” Asher calls over from the bar area.

I compromise and leave the door slightly ajar as I do every time I’m in his office.

“Afraid someone might think we’re being… Oh, what’s the word? Inappropriate?” Golden eyes leer at me.

“Did you enjoy your Twinkie?” I say, referring to the woman who just left Asher’s office. I hope he can hear the disgust in my voice.

“That,” he says, pointing toward the door, “was not a Twinkie. That was a Simone Davenport.”

“Do Simone Davenports not have the same cream filling as the rest?” I sneer.

Asher waves me into the room and motions toward one of the barstools. “Simones are part of the business world. Daughters of men with a lot of money and power. So if you fuck over a Simone, you better have your balls in a vise.” He makes a mock cringing face like he was just kicked in the balls. “But we do have an arrangement. We see to each other’s needs.”

He is so full of himself.

“All men are swine.”

“Only the good ones.” His chiseled chin rises as he holds up a glass. “Drink?”

There is one thing to say about Alexander Asher. He doesn’t hide who he is. Sure, he has secrets. But women know what they’re getting from him. They know he’s a cad and non-committal. He doesn’t lie and he certainly doesn’t sneak behind anyone’s back.

The thought is lightly refreshing. I could use a good dose of honesty right about now. I let out a deep breath and toss back my shoulders making my way toward the bar. “I don’t drink on school days.”

“Only school nights?” he teases.

“That was a special occasion.”

“Heather’s birthday was a special occasion? Are you two becoming buddies or something?” Asher lifts the rocks glass to his lips and takes a sip. The alcohol must burn a little because his throat clenches.

“As much as I’d love to banter back and forth with you, I have a gala to produce.”

“Right,” he says, putting the glass down on the bar. “I have something to show you.”

He is giddy with excitement. Its so un-Asher it makes me smile for the first time today.

Asher walks over to his desk. Propped up against the side is a large poster-sized picture. He lifts it with both hands and turns it around. He is wearing his megawatt smile in anticipation of my reaction.

I can’t help but let out a small laugh. In his hands is an original vintage movie poster for the film It Happened In Brooklyn, starring Peter Lawford and, my namesake, Kathryn Grayson.

“I thought we could hang it in the conference room,” he proposes, looking down at the poster in his hands and then back up at me, waiting to see how I react.

I can’t argue with him about buying it for me, because he didn’t. He bought it for the office. That’s acceptable. I won’t admit it out loud, but I kind of like that he bought it because of me. It’s a sweet gesture. “It will look great in the conference room. I approve. Now let’s talk about the gala.”

“Yes.” He places the frame back on the ground and suddenly becomes very serious. “The gala. Come, take a seat.” We walk over to the small conference table and Asher holds out a chair for me. The swell in my belly that was dancing earlier with every emotion from anger to excitement and absolute anxiousness is settling. Maybe it’s the scent of vanilla or the way his voice has this melodic sound to it, but I am undeniably relaxed in his company.

Crazy, right? I know.

Right now, I’m a far cry from the anxious twit I was this morning. Working together, we have a commonality in this job that puts us on the same playing field. When we went to the tomb, we shared stories of family and honesties reserved for intimate friendships. I feel like he’s known me forever. We’ve come so far in a short amount of time.

Maybe Asher can give me some advice. Malory is no use. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” There is vexation in his voice.

I twist the words around in my head for a minute. I don’t want to give too much away. “If you believe something in your gut, but you have no physical proof it is what your mind thinks it is… do you…?” My mind can’t find the words. Crap, why am I even talking about this with him? My eyes feel heavy as tears try to inch out from behind them. I swallow them back to the point my throat feels like it’s going to burn.

My eyes betray me by letting go of a single tear.

“Kathryn.” His warm, strong hands grab mine and hold tight. He tries to catch my gaze, but I sit, staring at the empty space around me. “Look at me.”

Tentatively, I raise my head and compose myself, the drop falling down my cheek. “I’m sorry. I feel so foolish.” My head falls again in embarrassment as I wipe away the solo tear with the back of my hand.

“Never say you’re sorry to me.” He dips his head until it’s within my gaze and holds his eyes to mine, forcing me to raise my head along with his. He’s not touching me physically, yet he can control me with just the look of his eyes. “And never lower your beautiful face.”

“You never call me Kathryn.” I let out a shy smile.

“Only when I’m mad at you.”

“Very funny.”

“Listen.” His voice is low. “I don’t know why you’re distressed, but I can tell you this. This business. Everything is numbers and bottom lines. But sometimes, something may look great on paper. Hell, it may look like a fucking cakewalk. But if there is something in my gut that says it’s wrong, then I walk away.

“The same goes for when I know I should be doing something.” He continues. “If I know it’s right, if I feel it’s right, then I have to do it or else it’s all meaningless.” His eyes look to mine for understanding.

I try to comprehend his words. “What do you do if the issue at hand is personal? If it’s not business?”

“Then I follow my heart. I’m impulsive that way.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” My breath leaves my body.

“Listen. The world isn’t all black and white. Sometimes it’s… grey, Gray.”

I smile reticently, my body at ease and my mind at rest. “Are you mocking me?”

His lips cock into a crooked smile. “I believe I am.”

Follow my heart? My heart knows I’m going entirely overboard. My brain knows what it saw and heard, but what was it I thought I saw or heard? When did I become so insecure? Perhaps I always was, yet Gabriel never gave me the opportunity to see just how insecure I was over him. He’s always been so attentive. His world revolved around me. Am I being so self-indulgent that I can’t imagine him having another life aside from the one I’m in? He’s a hardworking man. I can’t be so jealous of the time he puts into his career. Isn’t that exactly what I asked him not to do? I wanted to have a staple of my own, a place where I was important and productive outside of our marriage.

And that stupid pesky blonde from the park? Gabriel’s a nice guy. He makes friends easily. Always has, always will. It’s fine he runs with her. I have lunch with Asher and there’s nothing indecent going on here.

As for that conversation I heard in the store, I must have misheard. My imagination runs away from me sometimes. Gabriel is a good man. He’s my man. I can’t believe I almost let Malory help me dig a deeper hole of despair just thinking about it. When here, Asher is being the voice of reason.

Pulling my thoughts back to the now, Asher is looking at me with a peculiar mix of intensity and contentment. “Thank you,” he breathes.

“For what?”

“Confiding in me. It’s new for me. I like it.” His voice is low.

“You’re a good friend,” I whisper.

“I try.”

Catching my eye, I notice a beautiful piece of artwork hanging on the wall over Asher’s shoulder. A triumphant, gold, jeweled cross, adorned with emerald, sapphire, and citrine stones, lies against a black backdrop. The alpha and omega symbols hang from the arms of the cross. Asher follows my gaze.

“It’s called the Crux Gemmata,” he explains, looking at the early medieval art. “Do you see the tree in the center of the cross? It symbolizes the story of Adam and Eve. The first original sin.”

“It’s stunning.” My eyes meet his again.

“Feel better?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” A grin crosses my face.

“You have a beautiful smile, Gray.”

Breaking the intense eye contact, I grab my files from the desk and rise from the table. “Enough with the compliments. I think we’ve crossed enough lines this afternoon.”

Asher swiftly rises. “Don’t start with that again…”

I hold my hand up in protest. “No. You misunderstood. I’m not admonishing you. Thank you. I mean it. I feel much better.”

“You should.” His words are sincere. “You have me.”

I do.

Cecelia’s eyes are reprimanding as I exit the office. She probably assumes the worst. To hell with it. What does she know? And what do I care?

Back to reality on floor twenty-four, my redhead is barely seen over the ever-growing display of white roses.

“Do you have any stationary?” I ask.

She hands me an envelope and a notecard emblazoned with the ASHER signature and Omega logo.

In my office, I scribble a note and seal the envelope before placing it in the small Bloomingdales bag I have in my purse. I never took it out from this weekend. Frankly, I had no idea what I was going to do with the cologne.

I walk back to Trish’s desk and hand her the bag.

“Please deliver this to Mr. Asher’s office. You can leave it with Cecelia.”

Ever the eager beaver, Trish grabs the bag and heads toward the elevator to make the delivery.

Stopping for a moment, I lean over Trish’s desk and smell the delicious white roses laced with tobacco and vanilla. Tranquility swims through my bloodstream.

Turning on my heel, I head back to my office with a foolish grin on my face. My office is still bare. Its stark white walls and spacious furniture may seem cold, but this little space has become my home away from home.

I don’t believe I have anything personal in here.

Oh, I do.

Bending down under my desk, I grab the black umbrella. I hold it by its beautiful white pearl handle. It really is pretty. The sight of it solicits a fond memory. I can’t believe just two months ago, I thought this man was crude and wildly “inappropriate.” It’s odd to think he has become one of my best friends. Maybe Gabriel was right. I do need more friends.

My desk has become a paper landmine. For a job that is so creative, there is an awful lot of paperwork that goes into it.

We have a production meeting at eleven, so I came in nice and early to prepare for it. I feel good today. Today is a new day. I’m going to follow my heart. And my heart says my husband loves me.

I woke this morning draped in two hundred pounds of Gabriel. His hair is getting a touch longer than usual and it brushed against my face as he woke me up with soft kisses and a little tickle. We didn’t have the opportunity for more because Jackson was up and ready for some attention as well. From the bed, I admired Gabriel’s backside as he undressed for the shower. It was a beautiful sight to see.

Stepping out of bed, I nearly slipped on a magazine. I lifted it up to see the cover with Asher’s picture. It was the same one Gwen was reading this weekend. Gabriel must have fallen asleep reading it.

The phone rings. Shaking off the memory of this morning, I answer it in my most professional producer voice. “Kathryn Grayson.”

“There is a delivery here for you. Shall I bring it to your office?” Trish is on the other end.

“No. I’ll be right there.”

Trish has been working hard under Heather. Between that and answering the main phones, signing for deliveries, and keeping this place in order, she has more important things to do than deliver my package.

The display of white roses is extra obnoxious today. Asher is really getting carried away. Sitting next to them is a package with a large red bow on top.

“Looks like someone sent you a present.” Trish beams. “Can I watch you open it?”

As I have nothing to hide, I allow Trish to stand by as I unwrap the silky red ribbon. The box is a large white pastry box with a simple piece of tape clasping the end. Perhaps someone sent me a pie. That’s weird.

Weird doesn’t explain it.

I open the lid and find a box filled with packages of, as the slogan goes, the “golden sponge cake with a creamy filling.”

Asher can be very funny.

“Who would send you a box of Twinkies?” Trish’s face is twisted in confusion.

I partake in the second lie I’ve ever told this girl. “Must be from the Hostess Brands people.” I feign confused. “Twinkie?” I offer.

Trish grabs the cream-filled delicacy and smiles.

Walking back toward the office, I open the card that came with the package. I didn’t want to open it in front of Trish.

The note is short and sweet.

No signature.

I smile inwardly and leave the box on my desk. It’s almost eleven, so I gather my notebook and files and head to the conference room.

Erik, Malory, Gretchen, Harvey, and Heather are in the meeting with me. Erik, Malory, and I take seats next to each other, facing the wall of vintage advertisements, while Harvey, Gretchen, and Heather sit across from us, facing the glass wall that leads to the hallway.

As I take my seat, I look up and see the vintage movie poster Asher purchased hanging proudly. Kathryn Grayson looks ethereal under the handsome Lawford. I smile to myself and catch Malory’s eye, shaking her head in disapproval.

Everyone seems to have their portion of production underway. Erik has been working with his crew to secure equipment and make sure they can capture every aspect for the Central Park concert for viewers at home. He is also planning on setting up a crew at the Lincoln Center gala. It won’t air the same night, but they may be able to sell it as a special down the road. He’s giving one of the tech guys the opportunity to direct. It sounds like a great idea.

Malory has sold the rights to the broadcast and is packing the gala with an elite crowd who are paying thousands of dollars to attend.

Shit! Pressure’s on. This thing better be perfect.

Heather, as evil as she is, really has her shit together. Her concert is planned out, vendor contracts signed, timeline and logistics clear. Her speeches and dialogue throughout the program are all in review stages. She’s hired a well-known name in radio to be the announcer and is having an even more well-known late-night personality host the entire event. That’s really smart.

Asher approved another television personality to host my event as well, but he’s not nearly as funny and his people are a disaster to work with. I look down at my production notes. I have many loose ends. If I had Trish working with me, I’d be as far ahead as Heather is.

Harvey is going over the scripts for the Central Park concert when Gretchen’s eyes shift to the glass wall behind me. Heather notices Gretchen’s distraction and follows her gaze.

“Who is that?” Heather’s doe eyes widen. She nearly foams at the mouth.

Malory and I turn around to see a man with dark wavy hair, an athletic build, and navy-blue eyes behind the glass, looking for, what I presume is, my office.

Why is Gabriel here?

I turn to Erik. “If you’ll excuse me. That’s my husband.”

Erik nods in permission as Heather chimes, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Malory scowls back at Heather. “What bothers you more? The fact that she gets to leave the meeting, or McDreamy over there is here to see her and not you?” Malory’s mad, though I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s directed solely toward Heather. Is it unprofessional to be leaving the meeting? Should I stay? What if he’s here to tell me something terrible happened?

I exit the conference room as fast as possible.

Gabriel sees me through the glass panel and relaxes. Clearly, he was lost.

“What are you doing here?” I guide him down the hall to my office.

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by and see this fancy office of yours. Besides, I know you love surprises.” He looks handsome in his business suit, his blue tie bringing out his eyes. No wonder Heather nearly convulsed.

“Thank God, I thought something terrible happened.” I take his hand and escort him into the office. “Well, this is it.” I hold out my hands, gesturing at the stark space of white walls, modern furniture, and paper… everywhere.

“You really do have a view of the Empire State Building.”

The view even surprises me on a daily basis.

“Yes, almost all of the offices on this floor have this view.”

“This is awesome, baby. You really made it.” He sits on my desk, taking in the room. “If I didn’t know better, I’d ask who you slept with to get this kind of view.” He’s kidding, yet his eyebrows are raised at me, questioningly.

“Gabe!” I admonish, crossing my arms, and cock my head to the side.

“I’m kidding,” Gabriel says with a sarcastic tone.

“You better be.”

“Where is that big boss of yours anyway?”

“Erik? He’s in the meeting I just left because you surprised me at work. Which, as a matter of fact, I love but really hope I don’t get in trouble for.”

“No, the BIG boss… Alexander Asher. Where does he sit?”

“Asher?” Why does he care about Asher? Maybe it was the reading he did last night. The man is part of an empire. He would never sit on the floor of the communications company he owns. It seems silly Gabriel would even think he would.

I take a step back and access my husband. “You’re jealous!” I knew Gwen and her ridiculous comments were good for something.

A smile stretches across my face so wide my mouth opens in surprise. Despite my annoyance, I am utterly flattered that Gabriel would be jealous of Alexander Asher. After the crazy few days I had with my head reeling from thinking Gabriel is cheating to my relief to understand he’s not, this is a welcome development.

“Yes, Asher. Where is his big fancy office?” he asks, looking around the room as if there were a secret door that led to Asher’s office.

“It’s all the way upstairs in the penthouse. He doesn’t come down here except for a meeting every once in a while. I hardly ever see him.” Okay, it’s a lie but a white lie.

Gabriel glances down at the white pastry box I have on my desk. “Why do you have a box of Twinkies?”

Oh shit. If I tell him who they’re from, he will never believe my white lie about hardly ever seeing Asher.

“The Hostess people sent them. They probably want to sponsor an event or something. I get pitches like this all the time,” I ramble.

Where’s the card? My eyes skim like rapid fire over the desk. I have to hide it.

Gabriel takes a seat in the chair in front of the desk. “No pictures of me or Jack?” He sounds disappointed.

“I keep on meaning to bring a photo or something, but I always seem to forget. You know it’s very hard being a working mom.” It’s true. Work all day and then take care of the baby at night. It’s a lot.

“But I do have you as the screensaver on my computer.” I motion toward the screen as I swivel it around for Gabriel to see a photo of him and Jackson taken just weeks ago at the house. It’s one of my favorites. This seems to appease Gabriel.

Trish knocks on the door and walks straight into the office.

“Sorry, Kat, but I heard your husband was here and I just wanted to come and introduce myself.” Trish steps back and appraises my husband. “Wow, you’re tall.”

Gabriel breaks out his Robert Redford grin and shakes her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you…” He waits for her response.

She catches her breath. “Trish! I’m Trish the assistant. I must have stepped away when you entered or I would have escorted you to Kat’s office. But I wasn’t at my desk. So I couldn’t greet you.” She’s babbling. Clearly overtaken by the blues.

I roll my eyes at her gushing. I used to be that girl.

I take the moment to look down at my desk. The card from Asher is sticking out from under the box. I pull it out farther and swipe it into the trashcan beneath the desk.

Gabriel finally releases her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Trish. Kat has told me a lot about you.”

He’s such a charmer. I haven’t told him a thing about my job at all… except for the concerts and my office. But the people? Nothing. That’s so rude of me. I love Trish. I have so much to tell Gabriel about her.

Trish absentmindedly grabs her braid and looks toward my desk. “The Twinkies.” She laughs. “Isn’t it funny that the Hostess people would send you a box full of cake?”

Oh, Trish.

“Very.” I grab the box and hold it out to her. “Why don’t you leave these at reception so everyone can enjoy them?”