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And the last bit of solid foundation in my life had officially split in two.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JESSA
Priority tasks. Action tasks. Care tasks. Personal tasks.
I was drowning in a sea of tasks. Thank God I had a tablet, desktop, company phoneandmy personal phone. Otherwise, I might not have been able to stay afloat withso much to doin the Fairchild world.
I’d gotten to work extra early the next day, since our late-night meeting ended with approximately 127 new items on my to-do list. Priority items 1 through 78 included the rapid planning and execution of a brand-new Programmer’s Ball that the brothers wanted to host to begin repairing their post-investigation reputation via fundraising, donations, and transparency. It was a noble cause, one that I was eager to work on, but the date Axel and Damian had chosen for the event scared me.
One month from now.
It didn’t leave much room for error—or anything else, for that matter. Damian had already handed me a draft version of the invitations they planned to paper Manhattan with, which, pending booking one of the venues I’d call today, would roll out by eight a.m. tomorrow.
This wasn’t just breakneck speed. This was a liquefying to-do list for little ol’ Jessa Walton.
I flitted around my office space, getting ready for the day. Damian wouldn’t be in for at least another half hour, and I was planning what I might surprise him with today on the food front. We could call that anourishment task, since a good portion of my day was spent thinking about what might go into his mouth.
Like maybe my nipples?My eyes fluttered shut, and I shook my head. No, that wasn’t helpful at all. Not after what happened in his laundry room last night. Or his brief touch on my lower back, which had sent a surge of moisture straight to my panties.
I wasn’t proud of how sensitive I was to Damian’s nearness. It was embarrassing. But the man had essentially admitted that he’d had a crush on me at least once in his life, which was the green light for my body to start acting even more insane when it came to this man.
If he’d crushed on me once, maybe I had a shot now.
Jessa, quit being crazy. He has a girlfriend. Legs basically confirmed it. Besides, 17-year-old Damian having a crush on you does not equate to 32-year-old Damian being even remotely interested in you.
I sighed, looking at his closed office door. To make things worse, I missed him, which was just further proof that I was living in an unrequited love bog that I needed saved from immediately.
Focus on work, Jessa.If he wouldn’t put my nipples in his mouth, then he’d put a bagel in his mouth. I’d quickly amassed a list of interesting delivery options in the neighborhood, and today’s selection was going to be a bagel smorgasbord, complete with an interesting array of jams, jellies, cream cheeses, and more. I wiggled in my seat with excitement as I set up the details, scheduling the delivery for ten a.m. That seemed to be the time that Damian really came to life, which seemed like the best time to surprise him with a bagel tray.
Once breakfast was ordered, I got to work on my to-do list. Some tasks were easy, like verifying availability of their preferred venues and checking in with the company’s lawyers. I tried to knock as many of those out as I could first, so I could feel preliminarily victorious. As always, I had my sketchbook open on my desk, ready to receive fresh lines in whatever design I was working on whenever I had a spare moment. Today it was a miniskirt my instructor wanted us to develop, even though a thing like this would hardly cover one of my ass cheeks.
Around 9:40, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I peered down at it, my belly knotting when I saw Tara’s name on the caller ID.
I contemplated not answering it. I was plenty skilled at avoiding her calls. But not answering had just as many risks as answering.
I picked it up right before it switched to voicemail. “Hi, Tara.”
“Hey! You actually picked up.”
I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, instantly annoyed. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know the latest.”
The knot in my belly turned to stone. “Hopefully good news?”
“Mom got sprung from rehab. She’s in a halfway house now.”
The news settled over me in the same way sludge coated the river bottom. I’d been through this song and dance too many times. I knew better than to rush to excitement. Knew better than to even hope for the best.
“Okay…”
“It’s actually the second halfway house,” Tara went on. “She was in one for a couple days before we found out it had roaches.”
“Oh, jeez.” I nibbled on my bottom lip as she spoke.
“Yeah. Unfortunately, this new place is a little bit more expensive than we had planned.”
