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We spend the morning going through a paper he asked me to write about the history of The Hamilton Group and its transition from its original roots in retail to its current day mission. His notes are helpful, as are his sparse but genuine compliments that I did a thorough job.
There’s a quiet knock on the door, and we both look up to see Marcus poke his head in.
“Sir? It’s noon.”
Kingsley nods, and answers, “Right. Thank you, Marcus. I’ll be right there.” He stands, tidying up his papers and plopping them back onto his desk. “I have to go. I’m not going to be able to have lunch with you today.”
The disappointment stings but I try not to show it, knowing he’d hate that. “Oh. Um, okay, but I made something special thatI really wanted you to try. It’s a spread my mother used to make and put in my sandwiches. Theodore used it in our subs today.”
He gives me rare eye contact, then he blinks and it’s gone. “Is it really important to you?”
“No. It’s silly… of course not. It’s just a sandwich.”
He moves toward the door and then stops. “Can you wait half an hour? I know how hungry you get when you haven’t eaten anything for all of twenty minutes. So I didn’t want to ask you to wait.”
“Firstly, I can go almost a whole hour without eating before getting grumpy now, thank you. What’s your excuse for the cranky? And secondly, yes, I can wait.”
His tongue slips out to draw along his lower lip, and he shakes his head with an amused exhale. “Okay. I’ll be back in half an hour. I expect to be bowled over by this spread you made.”
I wait until he’s gone before I make a happy little gurgle and then get up to go to the bathroom and refresh myself.
The water on my face instantly cools me down, and I’m surprised by how hot my cheeks are. I can’t believe it’s noon already, after sitting in meetings with Kingsley all morning and then just the two of us for the last two hours. It honestly felt like half an hour.
My brain is thumping, though. Just from the sheer amount of information.
As much as he’d warned me that he was going to be tough on me, he’s been nothing but patient. And I’m sure I’ve asked some dumb fucking stinky-ass questions. But he explains things in such a clear and concise way that I’m surprised I haven’t had to ask as many questions as I thought I might.
But after a few weeks of intense studying, I feel like I already know more about the company my father ran than I’ve known my whole life. And honestly, it’s been fascinating to learn. A whole new dimension on who he was.
Probably the most important dimension.
Kingsley has been thorough without being patronizing, giving me a full view of what The Hamilton Group is and what its business entails. And I realize that before now, I couldn’t have told you if it was a real estate business or if it made laundry detergent. Turns out, a little of both.
I tidy my hair bun, tucking my wayward bangs behind my ears, and smooth my hand down my chest. I’ve been trying to dress a little less like I’m a street urchin and more like someone Kingsley might not be too embarrassed to be seen working and having lunch with.
The thought of him makes my cheeks blare red all over again, and I splash some more water on my face. I’m going to have to get that under control. He doesn’t need me acting like some lovesick teenager hanging on his word. I’m sure he gets enough of that as it is.
After making sure everything is tucked in where it should be, I step out of the bathroom and back onto the office floor, just in time to see Kingsley walk through the hallway and toward the office that runs along the far side of the wall.
Sheer curiosity has me following, far enough behind for him not to see me, but close enough to see him straightening his tie as he knocks on the glass door and stepping inside. When the woman inside looks up, it’s with a big smile on her face. I watch as he stands, his hands behind his back, holding an envelope. As they talk, both animatedly, the woman gets to her feet, walks over to him, and reaches up to give him a big hug.
I hold my breath as he embraces her tightly and gives her the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in the whole time I’ve known him. And then he pulls the envelope out and holds it out to her.
She blushes, practically falling over herself as she takes it and opens it. It’s a familiar shade of Tiffany Blue, and she shakes her head, obviously touched, and clasps it close to her chest.
She hugs him again and they talk for a few more seconds, and then before he leaves, she gives him another kiss on the cheek.
He leaves, and I watch her stand alone in the office, still clutching the envelope to her chest, touching her cheeks which, just minutes ago, would’ve mirrored how red mine were.
Catching myself just in time, I duck behind one of the office pillars as he turns into a different aisle along the desks.
Inexplicably, I follow. Even though I know I shouldn’t.
He keeps walking until he reaches another office on the opposite end of the floor.
He steps inside and an almost identical scene plays out in front of me.
The woman stands and they hug, his lips brushing her cheek. Then he hands her the envelope and out pops another blue gift card. Her excitement is audible, though, and she lets out a little squeal and practically knocks him over, throwing her arms around his neck. He sits down on the edge of her desk and they chat for almost ten minutes, her reaching out and touching his hand or shoulder multiple times.
