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“I’m fine.” She yawns again, tugging the blanket up to her neck. “Tell me what else you two did.”
I look down at my hand, remembering what it felt like to hold Alexander’s. “He wanted pizza, but I told him that I was craving lobster rolls, so we went to that place in the Financial District. It was good. I had fun.”
She doesn’t respond so I glance in her direction.
Her eyes are closed, and a faint snoring sound is escaping from her throat every time she inhales.
She’s fast asleep.
I don’t have the heart to wake her, so I get up and tuck a pillow under her head, adjust the blanket so it’s covering her completely and I turn off the lights.
“Goodnight, Kate,” I whisper before I kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
***
“Did you have a hot date this weekend, Olivia?”
What the…?
I look up to see Sheryl standing in the doorway of my office. Considering that it’s Monday morning and not quite nine a.m., I’m shocked to see her here.
My assistant almost always extends her weekend until at least eleven on Monday mornings.
Today is an exception.
She’s dressed in a navy blue skirt and white blouse.
Great.
We’re wearing matching outfits today.
“You should have texted me to tell me what not to wear today, Sheryl.” I push back from my desk, stand and twirl in place. “We look like bookends.”
“You’re thirty years younger than me and your curves are still all in the right places. “She mimics grabbing her breasts near her stomach. “If I weren’t wearing an extra supportive Liore bra, I’d be arrested for indecency.”
I laugh. “Why are you here so early?”
“Can I sit?” She motions toward the two white chairs across from my desk.
“Please.” I take a seat in my chair as she closes the door.
She takes a moment to situate herself, carefully crossing her legs and adjusting her skirt. She slides her eyeglasses down her nose as she peers over them at me.
“Are you moving to London?” She points to the laptop on my desk. “I saw the email that Human Resources sent you on Friday afternoon.”
I saw it too right before I left the office.
It was the invitation to submit my interest in the position in London. I read through it quickly and then dashed out to help at the store on Fifth Avenue.
I plan to take some time this afternoon to read it over again.
“I’ll submit my application, but I have no idea if I’ll get the position,” I answer honestly. “I hope I do.”
“I read the fine print and it says that when it comes to hiring an assistant, you make the call.” She jerks a thumb toward herself. “I know someone who works well with you and would love the opportunity to work in the London office.”
“You’d move to London to be my assistant?” I’m surprised. I’m actually shocked that she’d consider a life-changing move across the globe.
Sheryl is single. Her divorce was finalized years before we met. Her son and his wife live in Montana with their two young kids. Her daughter is studying at a college in Georgia.
