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Or even his girlfriend.
Chapter Twelve
Lacey
The first week flies by, and by the beginning of week two I’m feeling much more relaxed about everything. The workload is huge, and I’m finding myself spending half the night researching things for the next day, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.
It’s Tuesday morning and I’m in Aaron’s office compiling some reports for the psychiatric assessment due to be held the following day when I look up and see my father standing in reception. I’ve been dodging my parents’ calls all week just in case they’ve found out about the internship. Apart from a couple of texts, we’ve had no contact for nearly a month. Not that that’s really that far out of the ordinary.
Panic-stricken, I jump off my seat and dive behind the filing cabinet just in time for Aaron to walk in and witness it. He halts in the doorway and watches me, his eyebrows raised, an amused smirk on his face.
“I, uh, dropped a file…” My voice trails off as he eyes the empty carpet next to me. Why couldn’t I have come up with a better lie? Fuck it. I’ll tell him the truth. I nod in the direction of reception. “That’s my father.”
“Your father is William Anderson?” he asks. He lets out a low whistle, impressed. “Is there any particular reason you’re crouched behind my filing system?”
My face heats. “We don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to my career choices. He doesn’t even know I’m working for you.”
“You didn’t tell your parents?”
“I tell my parents what they need to know,” I reply. “And this was something I didn’t think they needed to know.”
“Because it’s not important to you?” His eyes glint. I know he’s trying to wind me up, and it’s working.
“No, because I don’t want to have the conversation with them where they tell me how disappointed they are with me for ‘wasting my life,’” I practically snap. Could I sound any harsher? He’s only joking, Lace. “I’m sorry. It’s kind of a sore spot.”
“Family relationships usually are,” he murmurs. He glances through his office window and then turns back to me. “You’re safe to come out now.”
I get to my feet and straighten my skirt, aware that he is watching me. I can’t even imagine what he’s thinking, but I feel obliged to try and change the subject.
“Do you have kids?” The question spills out, and as his face clouds over, I regret asking.
“Yes, but like you, it’s complicated.” He turns his attention back to his laptop. You think that would make it clear for me that the conversation is over, but I’m nervous, and when I’m nervous, I babble.
“How old?”
He looks at me oddly.
“Your kids,” I mumble. I want to turn and run from his office, but I’m glued to the spot. I can almost hear the stupid, invasive questions lining up in my head waiting for their chance to make a fool of me.
“Your age,” he finally says. “Lacey, I’m sorry to cut this socializing hour short, but I needed to finish this brief half an hour ago.”
I bow my head and quickly leave, cursing myself for what just happened. As if hiding from my father wasn’t bad enough, I can add crazy, nosy stalker to the list of adjectives he’d probably use to describe me.
It’s just after lunch and I’ve finally gotten over what happened earlier when Aaron stalks into the room and over to my desk.
“Get your jacket,” he orders. His loud, imposing voice makes me jump, and I feel like I’m about to be punished.
“Where are we going?” I ask, threading my arms through my jacket, but he’s already half out the door. Hurrying, I grab my bag and follow him, finally catching up to him at the elevators.
“The psych assessment just got pushed forward.”
Oh.
My heart pounds when I realize what that means.
“We’re going to the Francis Centre?” I ask, naming the psychiatric unit where Fairgone is being held. The thought of being within arm’s reach of Duane Fairgone terrifies me, even if we do have a mirrored wall between us. But surprising even to myself is how excited I am by the exact same prospect.
“We are,” Aaron confirms. His eyes twinkle as he sees the anxiety in my expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you every step of the way, and you have a two-hour drive to prepare yourself.”
