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“What about it?”
“We can’t both be out of the office.”
“It’ll be around the holiday season. I can make it work for us.”
“I know. But at least the last time you traveled I was there to hold the fort and direct certain calls to one of the other senior guys. With me gone, then what?”
I think for a while. Should I put this on the table now? I think better of it and hold my peace. We haven’t been living together for even a month so my desire for a more permanent arrangement cannot be discussed just yet.
“What’s going to happen to my desk if we both leave, Archer?”
I shrug. “Maybe we can get a temp. Honestly, I haven’t given it that much thought.”
“I fail to believe that. You are always thinking ahead.”
I laugh softly and squeeze her knee. “You’re getting to know me a little too well. Let’s just say I have a thought but I’m not yet ready to share it. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, okay? Just know I have plans for our birthdays.”
“Okay.” She smiles at me and my own smile is plastered on my face.
We get home and head inside out of the cold quickly. I arm the system and take her hand as we head upstairs. She turns on the bottom step and places her arms around my neck.
“Thank you for a great evening.” She kisses me gently. I move to deepen the kiss when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and frown. Why is my son calling me at this time of the night?
“Let me take this call. I’ll be up in a few.” I brush her lips once more, then head back to the kitchen.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Daddy dearest.”
I sigh at the obvious drunkenness in my son’s tone. I listen as he starts to say how he wishes he had never been born and that no one loves him.
This has been our routine over the past few months whenever he calls. Ever since his mom cut him off too, he takes pleasure in calling me occasionally to either berate me about how worthless I was as a father, or to pity himself to ask for money.
“Stop that, son.”
“Don’t fucking call me that! You don’t care. You never have and you never will.”
“If I didn’t care, would I be always begging you to let me help you?”
“All you want to do is stick me in a nuthouse.”
“All I want is for you to be okay.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then can you buy me a ticket to come home? I don’t want to be here anymore.”
I blink a few times as I process the request with skepticism. His mother must have really cut him off for good, otherwise he’d never ask to come back here. To be close to me.
“Well? Can you?”
“Of course, I can.”
“Okay, good. As soon as you wire me the money, I’ll book an airline.”
“I’m not going to do that. My money will end up in your veins and you know it.”
