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“Right, well, come in. The air conditioning is on, and I will grab you some water.”
I follow Oliver into the kitchen. “Thanks, Ollie. And here, I baked you your favourite cookies—double chocolate chip with extra M&M’S.” I smile as he grabs the cookies from me before shoving two into his mouth as he fills up a glass of water for me.
“Thanks, Lil. But you know you don’t have to give me anything. Helping you is like a hobby of mine.” It does seem to keep him busy, I think to myself.
“Well then, let me take them back.” I go to grab the cookies off him.
“Don’t you dare,” he says as he cradles the cookies protectively to his chest. “They are mine!”
As I sit down at the kitchen counter with my glass of water in hand, I take the time to admire, as I always do, the size of the kitchen in front of me. With the granite benchtops and the industrial-size stove top and oven, I can only dream about the number of quality baked foods I could create in this space. All the spotless stainless-steel appliances are screaming out for me to make a mess in my eternal quest for the perfect brownie.
“So what other disasters have you got planned for today?” Oliver jokes, sitting down next to me, breaking me out of my silent coveting of his kitchen.
“There is a house fire I am planning to light a little later, but that is not until after lunch, so I have some time,” I quip back, earning the full-dimple smile from Oliver.
“Is Amy here? I have some cookies for her as well,” I ask, tearing my eyes from his deadly dimples.
“She should be back from her night shift any minute now,” he says, looking at the clock on the wall. “Feel free to hang out until she gets back.” Amy works as a nurse in the emergency department at Mercy Hospital, a major metropolitan hospital in the city, and often works crazy hours.
I spy Oliver’s laptop open on the bench, noting that he must be working on a Saturday. “I can wait in her room, if you have plans?” I don’t want to be in the way.
Oliver also glances at his laptop, and after a moment’s hesitation, he says, “No, no plans. Just doing some work to get ahead for the week I have coming up. No big deal. You can stay right here and catch me up on your life. It has been ages since I’ve gotten to have a real chat with you.”
“You have been busy,” I tell him in a droll voice. “You know, with Emily?”
“Ha ha,” he laughs. “We don’t spend that much time together.”
I give him a sceptical look, knowing from Amy that Oliver splits his time almost solely between work and Emma.
“Well, I have been busy too. I have made a few New Year’s resolutions that I am working on.”
With a pointed look at the calendar, clearly showing that it is already the sixteenth of January, Oliver says, “A little late getting started on those this year?”
“Maybe I should add that to my resolutions? Get a calendar? And be less tardy?” I say with a cheeky smile.
Oliver laughs at this, so I continue.
“My primary focus is to put into motion some plans to open a café or bakery one day. Soon. Because I simply cannot continue to work for those Neanderthals at O’Brien/O’Ryan Real Estate.”
Oliver gets that protective look in his eyes and asks not for the first time since I started working at O’Brien/O’Ryan Real Estate, “Are those guys still bothering you?”
I smile at this and downplay just how bad that place is in reality. “It’s not always bad. It’s just that given I am only one of two women working there, they rarely know what to do with me, always giving me the most ridiculous tasks to complete, and the younger ones are always asking me out to drinks, no matter how many times I tell them I am not interested.”
At this, Oliver’s jaw clenches, and he tells me in a serious voice, “Lilly, they can’t do that. It is harassment. Talk to your manager. Get him to sort it out.”
I look away as he says that, all of a sudden very interested in a painting on the wall.
“Lilly, is your manager one of these men not taking no for an answer?” he asks, his face turning a little pink, maybe with frustration.
“It doesn’t matter,” I reassure him, “because I have a plan to get out.”
“A plan?” Oliver asks, still looking somewhat cross.
“Yes, I am putting together a plan to open my café,” I announce.
“And by putting together a plan…?” he asks me in an all-knowing tone.
“OK, so currently I am just putting out some good vibes,” I tell him, laughing, knowing that making and sticking to plans is not a strength of mine.
