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I take another sip of the warm, rejuvenating tea that Elliot always refers to as green sludge, and look back at my brothers’ happy, fulfilled expressions.
It’s most definitely my time.
I get to my feet and straighten my shoulders. Now to explain to Max how I’m the perfect person to manage the takeover of Joyntz and that I deserve the opportunity.
I wipe my palms down the sides of my skirt. It’s ridiculous to be nervous talking to Max. He’s the man I give a hard time to every day about his tie choices, his dreadful handwriting, and his inability to consume a cup of coffee before it goes cold.
Maybe I’m nervous because I can sense this is the time it’ll work. This is the time I’ll talk to him and he’ll see the light and give me a chance. This time it will actually happen.
I watch him flick through files on his screen as I walk along the glass office wall and pull his door open.
“Max, do you have a minute? There’s something important I wan?—”
“Ah. Come in. I have the perfect new project for you.”
“Oh.”
Well, that was easy.
3
CHARLOTTE
Isuppress my instincts to grin, gasp or do a happy dance.
Mustn’t appear overexcited. Mustn’t weep with joy. Must remain professional. And appreciative.
“That’s amazing, Max.” I divert my energy into stopping myself from bouncing. “Thank you.”
I’m finally about to get the chance to show I’m more than the most efficient assistant anyone could wish for.
“Is it the new sports rehab equipment company?” I approach his desk, fighting against the smile that threatens to take over my face. “Because I’d be a perfect fit. I already have some ideas. We could?—”
“Sit down for a minute.” He doesn’t look up from the papers he’s shuffling.
“Sure. Yes.” I slide into the black leather button-back chair opposite him and clasp my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking—or at least to stop him from seeing they’re shaking.
“I’ve been thinking about reorganizing things a little,” he says, squaring the edges of the pages.
“That’s great news. You know how adaptable I am. I mean, okay, I do still love a perfectly planned schedule. But working for you, where your plans can shift at a moment’s notice, I’ve learned to be flexible.” Shit. Babbling. I’m babbling. “No point being frustrated at a last-minute change when it’s better to pivot.” I point a finger in the air and do a weird wobble on my butt that approximates a pivot. Fuck. Shut up and stop wobbling. “Anyway, yes, you know I’m happy to take on whatever you need.”
I shove my hands under my thighs to try to keep the wacky movements under control.
Max, always the picture of self-assured calmness, rests his hands on top of the papers and finally looks at me. “Once Polly and I are married we want to start a family right away.”
“Erm, okay.” Well, that wasn’t the sort of revelation I was expecting.
Max might have become slightly more human since he met Polly, but at work he’s still pretty much all biz all the time. It’s certainly not like him to share details as personal as that. “Sounds exciting.”
“Thanks. She wants me to prove I can work less before we have kids. Or at least that I can work from home more.”
Their wedding is just before Christmas—about five months away.
In the meantime, they’re in the throes of building a house plus a cottage for Polly’s mom on a large piece of land Max bought opposite Polly’s old family home in Warm Springs, three or four hours drive north of the city.
But I might now see where he’s going with this. “Great, so you’ll need me to take on more work. More responsibility. I’m totally ready to step up. Raring to go.”
“It actually means I’ll have less work for you.”
