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“Yeah, he was the one to actually say the words. It was tough, man. Give him some time.”
“I know. All right. I’ll see you later. Thanks, Spence.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later.” Placing my receiver back on the base, I turn to stare out the window. I should be looking over the buyout of the pediatric practice the hospital is purchasing, but instead, I see a blue-eyed, red-haired angel with soft lips. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that when I did, she would be all I thought about.
Forcing myself to get back to work, I grab the contract from my desk and start from the beginning. I didn’t retain a single word when I was going over it earlier.
Hours pass as I immerse myself in my work.
A knock comes at the door, and I look up to see Cheryl standing just inside the door with a bag from what I know is the deli down the street. “You’ve been in here for hours.” She smiles. “I picked you up something when I went out.”
“You’re too good to me, Cheryl,” I tell her, reaching into my pocket to grab my wallet and hand her some cash.
“This is too much.” She tries to give one of the ten-dollar bills back to me.
“Nope. You fly, I buy,” I tell her, and she smiles.
“Thank you, Spencer.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for feeding me. I’ve wanted to read through the final copy of this buyout contract to mark it off my list.”
She nods. “I scheduled a walk-through with the practice administrator on Friday at ten in the morning.”
“Thank you. The board meeting is Monday night, so that’s perfect. What would I do without you?” I ask her. Her cheeks pinken. Cheryl is in her early fifties and the best fucking assistant on the planet. She’s a joy to work with. She keeps me organized and fed when I don’t take time to stop and eat, and I hope she never retires.
I know she will eventually, and I’ll probably riot or whatever equivalent. Maybe I can bribe her to stay longer. I know we are still several years away from that happening, but she’s so good that I’m already dreading the day.
I spend the last few hours of the day replying to what feels like a million emails. Finally, at five o’clock, I’m ready to call it. There are long hard days being the CEO of Charleston Memorial Hospital, a position I was lucky to grab right out of college. I’d done some interning with the previous CEO and somehow, he managed to convince the board, my young blood was exactly what they needed as his replacement. The job isn’t a straight nine-to-five, but today, I’m done. I want to go home, strip out of this suit, grab a shower, some food, and maybe a cold beer, and catch up with Linc before crashing into my California king.
* * *
I’m sitting on the couch with my feet propped up. I just finished dinner, just a couple of burgers on the grill, and now I’m relaxing with a cold beer. The front door opens, and I turn to look over my shoulder to see Lincoln stepping inside with a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.
“Hey, man,” he says hesitantly.
“I’m not really feeling up to throwing hands tonight,” I tell him with a chuckle. His shoulders relax.
“I wouldn’t fight back if you were,” he says. He drops his duffel bag to the floor and plops down in the recliner. “It was the right thing to do, but I still feel like shit.”
I ignore his comment. “There are a couple of burgers on the counter if you’re hungry.”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
“You just getting off work?” I ask. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I see it’s after seven.
He shrugs. “This is an early night for me.”
I finish off my beer and stand. “The spare bedroom is yours. I’m going to shower and call it a night.”
“It’s not even eight.” I hear the surprise in his voice.
“I need my beauty sleep. I don’t stay this handsome naturally.” I laugh.
“Fuck off.” He chuckles. “Thanks, man, for letting me stay here.”
I nod. “You’re my best friend. I might not agree with the way you handled the situation, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. Pissed off, yeah, but that’s diminishing slowly. Just do better.” I feel like my father lecturing him. “You know where everything is,” I say.
He holds his fist out for me, and I knock my knuckles against his before taking my now-empty bottle of beer to the recycling bin and heading upstairs to shower. By the time I reach my bedroom door, my shirt is off, and I toss it on the chair in the corner, along with the others from this week. My suit jacket is still downstairs. I make a mental note to grab it all Friday morning and drop them off at the dry cleaners before my meeting with the pediatric practice we’re buying.
