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Luckily, because of the day it was, his staff hadn’t bombarded him with a lot of unnecessary nonsense, and everyone seemed to be doing their jobs at full efficiency. Thank god. All he wanted to do was clock out on time, because he had two beautiful pieces of fresh halibut he’d picked up from the market yesterday that he planned to cook for Bishop tonight.
He’d missed him this morning, since Edison had come in early to get a jumpstart on the day. So, he hadn’t seen his boyfriend since Saturday after he and Bishop had finished with the garden shop. They’d parted ways so he could handle his business and spend time with his dad and Trent on Sunday. Edison hadn’t been able to sleep on sheets that still smelled like Bishop until he’d pleasured himself… twice. Sunday, he’d woken with plenty of energy. He’d spent an hour working out in his exercise room before he’d cleaned up his dining room and sanitized his kitchen. He’d made a stop at his dry cleaners to get his suits, then proceeded to do his grocery shopping for the week—which had been fun—but he’d finished his errands too fast. By five that evening, he was bored and lonely. Going to visit with his aunt and uncle had been a great idea, because after he’d stuffed himself on baked ham and green beans and potatoes, he was good for nothing but bed when he’d gotten home at nine.
“Edison, come on. Everybody is ready,” Mila whispered with her head inside his door.
Edison groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He cracked the knuckles in his aching fingers then shook his hands out. “Do I have to?” he whined playfully.
Mila smirked. “Just fake it, okay.”
“Oh, you mean like all of my employees are doing right now? You know none of them want to do this for me. They just think they have to,” Edison grumbled. He closed what he’d been working on and tucked the file into his desk. He glanced around at his cluttered work space. “Did you pull Ramona Jackson’s case? I needed that—”
“It’s to your right, Edison.” Mila came forward and lifted the file from beneath a stack of law books.
“Crap. Sorry.” Edison rubbed his forehead and opened the file.
“No way. Don’t start on that. We have to go. I told them I’d have you there at three on the dot, now let’s move.” Mila came around his desk in her fitted zigzag dress and high black pumps, and took his suit jacket from hanging on the back of his chair. She raised one brow and motioned for him to get his behind up.
Edison stood and turned so Mila could ease his jacket up his arms. He tucked his tie in and buttoned the middle two enclosures. It actually felt a little looser around his midsection, and he wondered if he’d maybe lost a few more pounds. He smiled, wondering if Bishop would notice. Feeling good, he closed the door to his office and walked down the long hallway with his assistant. He was sure she was leading him to one of the conference rooms on the other side of the building where his staff no doubt had a catered lunch waiting for him. He really didn’t have the time to spend doing this when he had work piled up to his hairline waiting for him. Thank goodness he’d been able to put a dent in some of it on Saturday evening or else he’d have been there until eight.
Edison put on his best appreciative smile and entered the room behind Mila. She threw her hands up and started clapping, encouraging everyone else to join in.
“Here’s to the best boss in the world!” she said with a huge grin on her face, but it was clear that no one else was sharing in her enthusiasm.
He stepped around Mila, ignoring the few slow claps he got around the irritated expressions. Mila eyes went wide when they landed on the conference table.
“What is this?” She looked up at her coworkers in horror.
Most of the people were on their phones, a few were conversing with each other, and a couple of members had even brought their laptops and were working. Edison almost laughed. He’d told Mila this whole show was ridiculous, but she’d insisted that he deserved some recognition.
“I said a potluck, people. That means cook something.” Mila’s tone had everyone pausing. “Did you all read the memo? What did you think I meant when I said bring a savory dish?” Mila picked up the two bags of Doritos someone had brought and laid on the table next to two boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts. “Who brought this? How is this even remotely savory?”
“I’m sorry, Mila,” Robert said hesitantly, inching up from his chair. His cheeks were dark red, and his pale-blue eyes were so wide, his brows practically disappeared into the front of his toupee. “My wife is on strike. She wouldn’t cook anything even though I asked her about this last week. So I…” He pointed at the chips. “I think Edison said those kind were his favorite.”
