Chapter Fourteen

Now

I’ve been at my new job for a week without any further problems. I haven’t see Kaden again. This is a good thing; it’s for the best. If I’m attracted to him, the smartest thing I can do is stay far away. It might be the coward’s way, but whatever works, works, and I’m okay with calling myself a chicken.

My marriage may not be perfect, but I’m committed to Mason and have vowed to love him through thick and thin, in good times and bad, in sickness and health. I may not remember making those promises as I don’t remember much about our actual ceremony, but I know the promises were in our vows. I need to honor those words — those promises.

Mason may be distant now, but he isn’t a bad man. He isn’t abusive, doesn’t treat me poorly, doesn’t put me down. He takes care of me, provides for us, and has a kind word to say to every stranger on the street. He’s a good man. Many women would be honored to have him for a husband. I shouldn’t look for faults. We can fix our marriage if we both try. But are we willing to try anymore? I shake my head at this thought.

We are part of a generation who doesn’t think much of others. It’s all about ourselves and our own needs, trying to get as much as we can for as little effort as possible. I don’t know if that is where we are heading, I only know I can’t give up this easily.

It’s four in the afternoon when my phone buzzes. Not a lot of calls come to my line. I’m the most junior associate and this means a lot of grunt work. I don’t mind at all. I like it in fact. It’s nice to be unseen as much as possible. I can go through my day, get my work done, and leave it all behind when I go home.

I loved that about most of my former jobs. I don’t want to work in a position that consumes me. I know some people live for their work, but work is just a way to earn a paycheck to me. I don’t want it to devour me whole. What will I have at the end of the day if I have nothing but my job?

Mason’s addicted to his work. He puts in eighty hours a week. He puts it above our relationship. He promised me many times he’d slow down, but he’s yet to make good on that promise. I vow I’ll never allow that to happen to me. If my life is so unfulfilled that all I have is work, I must be doing something wrong.

That’s a lesson I learned from my dad. He lives a simple life. And he’s happy. I love how happy he is. He doesn’t ask for much and doesn’t want much. There were times I hated that about him, but the older I get the more I realize he has had it right all along.

I pick up the phone and it’s Jenny. “Hi, Miranda. We have a late night meeting tonight, so plan on eating here,” she says, her voice cheery.

I groan inwardly. I was thinking about how nice it would be to escape from work on time and forget all about everything. And now I have my first late night. I really can’t complain. It isn’t as if they ask me to do this often.

“Okay, where are we meeting?” I ask. Why do they want me here? I haven’t been with them long enough to know anything, to contribute at a meeting. I’m more of a data entry person. Maybe this will change the longer I’m here, but for now I’m on my own a lot.

“It will be in the blue room,” she says.

I tell her I’ll be there and hang up. I turn to Betty, who’s been Mr. Alexander’s personal assistant for a long time. She worked for him when he was in Seattle then moved here with him.

“What do I need to take to the meeting?” I ask her.

“I think today is more for you to learn,” she explains. “We have these sessions a couple of times a month. Sometimes they go quickly, and sometimes they go pretty late. If it’s too late, Mr. Alexander will let us take a day off or work a half day. He’s more than a fair boss,” she assures me.

I decide to take my notebook and a pen. A lot of people will have their computers, preferring to type things out, but I take pretty good shorthand, and I don’t like to interrupt speakers with the sound of clicking keys. With too many computers in a room, the noise can be quite overwhelming.

I get to the blue room early; no one else is here. I glance at the clock and it says quarter till five. I thought others would stroll in. Maybe they’re taking a quick break before the long night begins. I don’t know where to sit so I walk over to the large windows and look out at the water.

I feel his presence before I hear him. I know he’s here. It’s Kaden. There’s a shift in the air, a static electricity only I can feel. A shiver runs through me; his eyes fix on me. I expected him to be the last person to enter the room.

With the amount of power the man exudes, he doesn’t need to put on shows, doesn’t need to exert his authority by making everyone stand until he sits, or play the games so many others play. His existence is enough to make people stand at attention.

“I’ve missed you this week,” he says, making my stomach tighten. I can’t look at him, but I don’t pretend to act surprised he’s here.

“You have no right missing me,” I reply. I won’t admit I’ve looked for him and missed seeing him as well. I can’t possibly miss him as I don’t know him, but I’ve looked up often, seeking him out.

“I told myself that for two days. I’ve never actively pursued a woman. No is no,” he admits. There’s hesitation in his voice. “But I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.” He seems angry about this. I can relate. I don’t want to think about him either, but it seems I do whether I want to or not.

“I’m going to have to leave this job, aren’t I?” I ask, feeling unbearable sadness at the thought. I can practically feel him stiffen beside me.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says. I can’t read his tone, can’t understand what he means as he says these words. This situation is so damn complicated. The best thing for both of us is for me to leave. It truly is. But I think we both know I’m not going anywhere. What I don’t understand is exactly what that means.

“I’m not going . . . not yet,” I finally say. His hot breath trails the back of my neck, and goosebumps pepper my skin. He leans closer; I can practically taste him.

We both hear voices nearing the door, and he takes a step back. I turn to see him, and he looks completely composed as a group of men and women step into the room.

“Hey, Mr. Alexander,” one of the young techs says as he moves to the table and flops down. He takes out his computer, flips it open, and looks at something, not waiting for a reply from his boss.

“Hello, Bill,” Kaden replies. He steps away from me, and I finally breathe easier.

Jenny comes in and shows me where I should sit. I clutch my notepad in my sweaty fingers and stare holes in the table. The meeting starts and I try to pay attention, but my mind’s replaying the short conversation with Kaden. My body relives how his hot breath felt cascading over my skin. My heart races.

I barely eat any of the delicious meal Kaden has provided. His team seems in great spirits, all of them eager to impress, ideas flying around the room as quickly as bullets. It’s obvious the people who work here love their jobs.

We finish about ten, and I look at my phone. There are no messages. Mason hasn’t even noticed I’m not home yet. My husband makes it far too easy for me to want to lean on another man.

It isn’t until I’m on the bus that the thought crosses my mind: maybe Mason wants me to leave him. Maybe he fell out of love with me many years ago but is too honorable to tell me. I wonder what he’ll say if I ask him.

When I step inside the house there’s no music playing, the lights are off. I make my way to the bedroom and find him tucked into bed, sound asleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

A bit of tenderness fills me. He’s worked+ day and night for weeks on end, and he’s finally crashed. It isn’t that he hasn’t noticed I’m not home; exhaustion has finally forced him to take a night off.

I strip and crawl into bed beside him. He turns in his sleep and I snuggle up to his back, comforted. This is my safe place. This is where I belong.

I fall asleep, and for the first time in over a week I don’t dream.