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The theater is filled with kids around Addison's age, whisper-talking and unwrapping candy. I let the chatter wash over me and smile. Some of them have clearly seen the movie before. Parents' attempts to hush their kids are futile.
“That was amazing, Dad! Can we come back and watch it again?” Addison chirps as the final credits roll and the lights come on. I chuckle. We haven't even left the theater yet. I tousle her hair.
“Maybe,” I reply, and she jumps up and down with a squeal of delight.
After the movie, we head home, and Addison hums the theme song's melody. There is less pedestrian traffic now, and I take a moment to observe the city. The scent, the visuals, and the way traffic—or the absence of it—transforms the environment always surprises me. I adore this city and all it has to offer.
As we pass the Park Lane Hotel, something catches my eye. I do a double take. Inside Harry's bar, I spot Ana with the same man from this afternoon. He must be her boyfriend. They seem to be engaged in conversation with another man.
“Dad, can we ride the carriage before we go home?” Addison's initial question goes unnoticed as my attention remains fixed on Ana. I can't help but wonder about their relationship.
“What, sweetie?” I lean closer to Addison, keeping an eye on Ana.
Addison points toward a horse-drawn carriage, and I glance over. “Oh, yeah, sure.” Carriage rides in New York City are not uncommon, especially at night. The carriage Addison choses is white, adorned with lights, and resembles something out of Cinderella's story. A majestic Clydesdale horse, tan and beige, is harnessed to the carriage with illuminated reins.
We make our way over to the horse, and I retrieve my wallet to pay the coachman. Assisting Addison as she climbs into the open carriage, I follow suit. As we settle in, I notice Ana leaving the bar with the man, their arms intertwined as they stumble and share laughter. A pang of jealousy strikes my gut. But why am I feeling this way?
I think back to the interview and how she looked. She is still wearing the same pantsuit from this morning. It clings to her body in all the right places.
A tug on my arm and a girl’s giggle jolt me out of the thought.
The horse is pooping while walking, which is making Addison laugh and hold her nose. I hold my nose as well, laughing along.
It's probably for the best that Ana has a boyfriend. The physical pull I feel toward her is like a gravitational field. But she is my employee now and off-limits.
My focus must remain on my firm, especially as I’m figuring out a way to take full control of it. With that thought solidly in my mind, my body begins to relax.
The carriage whisks us through the enchanting expanse of Central Park. The lights of New York City's skyline twinkle with an awe-inspiring display of colors, resembling a vibrant tapestry. Majestic skyscrapers tower with their windows aglow, blending into a tapestry of pulsating light.
In an unexpected moment of amusement, the horse decides once more to relieve itself on the street, causing us to erupt into fresh fits of laughter. Despite the brief interruption, we continue to gaze at the magnificent city skyline, its brilliance captivating our gaze as the carriage ride draws to a close. The driver skillfully parks the horse, and I disembark to assist Addison.
As we enter our penthouse apartment a short while later, I call out, “Addison, go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas. I'll be in to say goodnight shortly.”
Still on a high from our evening, she scurries off to her room.
Glancing at my phone, it’s impossible to ignore a reminder for my Skype meeting in fifteen minutes. I retrieve my laptop from my bag and set it up in the kitchen, ensuring it's ready to go once I finish tucking Addison in for the night.
“Are you ready for bed, pumpkin?” I inquire, hearing a garbled response that I interpret as an affirmative. Lowering her comforter and dimming the light, I sense her approaching presence as she enters the bedroom, leaving a hint of fresh mint in the air. She wears her flannel pajamas and fuzzy lavender slippers, a birthday gift from me.
Taking a seat on her bed, I patiently wait for her to climb in. But before she does, she leans in and embraces me tightly. It catches me off guard and tugs at my heartstrings.
“Thank you so much for dinner and the movie, Dad. I love spending time with you,” she says, her voice carrying a touch of emotion. I reciprocate the hug with equal intensity, holding on as if my life depended on it. This incredible girl is the essence of my being.
“Me too, sweetheart,” I reply, leaning back and observing her, gently smoothing her hair. Each day, she resembles her mother more and more. A smile dances on my lips as I cherish the sight before me.
She slips beneath the covers, clutching her stuffed elephant. Though she's on the cusp of adolescence, the allure of toys still holds its charm. With their boisterous mix of emotions, the tween years have been bewildering at times as she navigates the delicate balance between childhood and adulthood, grappling with unexpected and unpredictable feelings.
My heart swells with warmth. I carefully pull the covers over her and her stuffy, kissing each of their heads and bidding them goodnight. Pausing at the doorway, I glance back to find her with closed eyes, drifting into slumber. I leave the door slightly ajar and switch on the night light before retreating to the kitchen.
Grabbing a glass of water, I settle down at the computer, ensuring my headphones are within reach. I dial into the meeting, listening to the familiar beeps until it connects me with the board president.
“Good evening, Brando,” the president's voice resonates with a stiffness that suggests he just unwrapped it from a box. As my face appears on the video, I hastily put on a mask to hide signs of my disdain. While I can't stand him, I remind myself to keep my emotions in check to avoid potential repercussions.
“Hello,” I respond, hiding my irritation. “How's it going?” I inquire, eager to conclude the conversation as quickly as possible. The lateness of the hour weighs on me.
Seemingly attuned to my thoughts, the board president retorts, “Considering the time, let's get on with it. We're curious to hear about your plans for the newly acquired building. Did you encounter any difficulties during the acquisition?” His tone reveals a hint of contempt, suggesting that he must have consulted my father. Unlike me, he doesn't feel compelled to mask his emotions. The murmurs of agreement from the other board members follow his question.
“I didn't encounter any issues while purchasing the building, although I did exceed the budget slightly,” I respond. Despite my efforts to maintain composure, my jaw clenches—an unfamiliar habit that has recently developed. If only the board and my father could back off for once, it would alleviate much of my tension and significantly improve the quality of my life.
