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“How will I protect you when you’re gone?” I ask through a knot in my throat.
“Where are you going?” he asks her.
“My aunt has taken on a job as agent for an ad firm in upstate New York. She’s secured me an internship with another company up there. New York is where I’ve always wanted to be. This is an amazing opportunity for me to finish school there, and start working as soon as I can.”
“She’s very ambitious, this one. Don’t let the sweet face fool you. She’s going to be running a fancy firm someday.”
“Will you be working in advertising?” Dean asks.
“Not as an intern. I’ll be nothing more than the gopher. But it’s getting my foot in the door. Eventually I’d like to be an agent, have my own accounts. Maybe even more than that.”
“She’s gonna own the whole damned company one day,” I tell Dean, knowing deep down that’s what she really wants.
“Well your momma must be very proud,” Dean says.
“I am,” I say, squeezing her hand.
“So, Dean. Tell me more about yourself? Are you from Florida?” Reese asks.
“I am. Born and raised in Orlando.”
“You went to school there?” she asks.
“Yup. My father wanted me to help with the business,” he replies.
“Land development.” Reese states.
Dean looks at me. “You’ve done your homework I see.”
“My sister,” I say. “She’s nosy.”
“And you’re not?” he asks me.
“Why didn’t you follow in his footsteps?” Reese continues her interrogation. Or is it an interview? I watch her with narrowed eyes, and for the first time realize she’s typing notes into her phone.
“It wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to branch out, do my own thing. When I came to Maxx, I knew this is what I was meant for.”
“Do you want children?” she asks.
“Reese, that’s none of our business!” I reprimand.
Dean laughs it off, but by the red that creeps up his neck, I can tell the question has also caught him by surprise.
“Do you currently live with your parents?” Reese presses on. “Would you consider yourself financially independent? Is wealth important to you?”
“I think Dean has answered enough questions,” I tell her, then look at him and say, “I am sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. And to answer her question, yes I own my place, and yes, I pay my own bills,” he says.
Reese opens her mouth, but I glare at her and she shuts it. Even then, I can tell she’s burning to finish whatever questionnaire she’s come up with.
Our waitress drops off the check at our table. As if to prove that he’s financially stable, Dean grabs the bill and pays it.
“Thank you, Dean. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask.
“Actually, would you mind dropping her off at home?” Reese asks him, grabbing her bag in a hurry. “I have to… um… there’s a thing I need to pick up on the way.”
“What? I can come with you,” I say.
