Page 41 of A Bossy Roommate
I lick my hands.
13
CARTER
FRIDAY
The end of the workweek is here, and I’m busier than ever. Everyone is trying to wrap things up, me included, for once. Aunt Eleanor is due tomorrow morning, and I want as few interruptions as possible. Especially since Eden and I have blocked out time later this evening to get our stories straight.
At 4:47 p.m., I finally have a chance to breathe.
I enjoy what I do. The fast-paced, intense environment is where I thrive. A lot of my day is spent either coming up with new ideas, implementing procedures, or connecting with my clients for one reason or another.
Bradley’s “whispers” about client poaching have more weight to them than I originally thought. Two more of my longtime clients have mentioned being contacted by Ecclestone Construction, which has left me wondering if they’re attempting a takeover of my client base, possibly thinking they can outshine my long-standing relationships. It has certainly put me on high alert.
When I step out of my office for a break, Eden is typing away at her computer, focused on what she’s doing. She wears a form-fitting navy skirt and light-blue blouse that draws my attention. The top two buttons have been left undone. From her seated position, I catch the barest hint of her cleavage. We haven’t spoken about our midnight “encounter” in the laundry room. It had been a mistake. An incident arising from an accidental convergence of circumstances, one might say. It won’t happen again. She knows it. I know it. Despite the unfortunate situation, both of us are maintaining our professionalism and are choosing not to bring it up—particularly within the work environment. We both recognize the importance of keeping a level head and not allowing personal matters to interfere with our work duties.
When I approach her desk, she looks up and smiles.
“Do you need something, boss?” she asks.
“I’m pretty much finished here. Let’s get dinner.”
“Sounds good to me, I’m starving.” The way her eyes light up and her face brightens has me pausing for a moment. She lowers her voice, even though there’s nobody around to overhear us. “Are you sure it’s wise to be seen out in public with me?”
“You were the one saying you wanted to see more of the city and that I had to feed you. If you’re fine with take-out again, then…”
“Nope,” she says quickly, afraid I’m changing my mind. “Dinner out sounds great. It’ll give us a nicer ambience to work up our battle plan for the weekend.”
Appreciating but not reading anything into the fact that she said “our battle plan” instead of “a battle plan,” I pull my phone out and bring up the Uber app. “I’m ordering a car to take you to the restaurant. I’m going to need a few more minutes to wrap up here.”
“Are you sure? I can wait.”
“No need.”
She nods, and I know she understands my reasoning. There are still plenty of people around, and the last thing I want is for them to see me and Eden get in the same car or leave at exactly the same time. It’s no problem for people to see us leave together now and then for a business lunch, a meeting, or a presentation, but people will get suspicious if we leave together every day at the same time. Rumors are the last thing I need. We’ve been doing well at keeping things at a distance, and I don’t want to jeopardize that.
Eden shuts down her computer and grabs her purse. “I guess I’ll see you in a bit.”
I nod without a word and go back to my office. Eden’s high heels click against the hardwood floor on her way out. It’s been an interesting couple of days. The whole wedding situation aside, Eden’s presence has been a pleasant change of pace in the office. She knows her stuff and is a hard worker. I’m impressed with how easily she picks up new things and how many clients have been starting to mention her in a positive way.
It feels good to have one thing off my plate. As long as everything goes well this weekend, the next six months will be a breeze.
For exactly twenty more minutes I finish up minor tasks and then shut my stuff down for the weekend.
Time to focus on my aunt.
I’ve told Aunt Eleanor a lot of stories over an extended stretch of time—she’s curious like that. The good thing is, during the last few days, Eden has gotten a good insight on all things work related and other basics she would be familiar with as my wife. We still need to discuss how we met. If she gets even the slightest detail wrong, it could blow the whole charade. And I’m not going to let that happen.
We’re planning to move her belongings into my room early tomorrow morning so the maid can prep the guest suite and restof the apartment for my aunt before we return with her from the airport. Eden has surrendered to her fate and agreed to do so without any further objections. As long as we keep our stories straight for forty-eight hours, we’ll be good.
The restaurantI sent Eden to is a small Italian place I’ve visited only once or twice, typically frequented by locals who enjoy authentic homemade pasta. I don’t want to risk taking her to any of my usual places in case we’re noticed or recognized. When I get there, she sits at a table tucked away in the corner, a complimentary drink and bite-sized appetizer in front of her, poring over the menu. When I join, she gives me another one of her bright smiles.
“Everything on the menu looks so good,” she comments. “I’m having a hard time deciding.” She lowers her voice. “There’s no price. The price is missing.”
“Pick whatever you’d like,” I say, glancing at my own menu.
The waitress appears at our side, asking, “Good evening, may I take your orders?”