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All this going through my head is an unwelcome reminder that I’m meant to be working on a plan. On a way to make myself and everybody who works with me look indispensable. Or at least too useful to sack. And this might just be something resembling an opportunity. “Is there,” I ask, “is there anything I can do to help?”
Jonathan snorts. He’s not very attractive when he snorts. Then again, who is? “How? Do you even remember what the store looks like?”
“Not exactly. But I know what Christmas is and I know what parties are, so if you need a Christmas party organised, I don’t think my memory’s particularly important.”
For a moment, I think I’ve scared him off—that the humble, chicken-sandwich-making Jonathan has gone away and the viciousbathroom shark has come back. Because he gives me this dead-eyed look. “You want me to hand over my event planning budget to a man with amnesia who doesn’t even live in the city where the event is being planned? A man who, for what it’s worth, wasn’t very good with budgets even when he did have his memory.”
That isn’t true. We just had different priorities. That, and I’m not a dick. “Well,” I suggest, “maybe I’ve forgotten all my bad habits. Besides, it’s a room, some music, and some pigs in blankets. I don’t think I need any special skills to pull that off. And I do technically still work for you, right?” I’m flying close to the wind but I can’t quite stop myself. “I mean, unless you fired me and I can’t remember it.”
Jonathan mostly doesn’t react, but the lines in his brow get a bit deeper. “No,” he says very carefully. “But—”
“And I could help you get things set up for your family as well,” I offer. “It’d give me something to do so I’m not just sitting around all day watchingPointlessand annoying Agnieszka.”
He looks blank.
“Your housekeeper?”
“Oh, yes of course.”
I stare at him. “Do you—do you not know your housekeeper’s name?”
At the very least, he has the decency to be embarrassed. “I don’t speak to her very often and it slipped my mind.”
I’m almost tempted to laugh except a man who forgets his housekeeper’s name is a man who needs to take a long hard look at himself. “Because you’re so busy you can’t treat people like human beings?”
“I really don’t believe my housekeeper cares if I know her name or not.”
“She thinks you’re a serial killer.”
Jonathan’s eyes widen just for a second. Then he goes back topretending he’s made of stone. “If she thought that, she wouldn’t be working here.”
“She thinks you’re the kind of person whowouldbe a serial killer. That suggests to me you might have a bit of an image problem.”
“Serial killers can be extremely charismatic.”
I don’t think she thought he was that sort of serial killer. More the “oh, I should’ve known” sort of serial killer. But I’m not sure I want to be sitting here at midnight discussing the finer points of mass murder. “Shut up and finish your chicken.”
“Excuse me, I’m your boss.”
“Shut up and finish your chicken, sir.”
He picks up what’s left of his sandwich. Then looks like he realises he’s just done something somebody else told him to so he stops on instinct and eyes me intently over the plate. “Does this mean you’re staying then?”
“I think that very much depends on you.”
“So you’re essentially coercing me into letting you organise a party and inviting my family over for Christmas?”
“Jonathan,” I say, trying not to laugh, because this is fucking ridiculous. “The fact you need to be coerced into being helped with things and seeing your family is very much the problem here.”
“I don’t need help.” He’s getting all defensive and cornered-wolf-like.
“Everybody needs help. And you keep saying you’re too busy for everything. Somebody who’s too busy for everything needs help by definition.” I shoot him a sharp look because I can be sharp when I need to be. “Unless you’re not actually that busy and this is all an excuse to not see your family.”
He opens his mouth and then closes it again. Because it probablyisan excuse. A bit. On some level. Then he sort of crumples very gently round the edges. “Fine. But if I agree to this, then you’re staying until you’re definitely better, and you’re not suing me.”
I give him my most innocent look. “What would I have to sue you for?”
“You had an accident on my property. People sue over that kind of thing all the time.”
