Page 8 of Wishes for August

And now? Now he was calling me. And the reason? His new son - that’s right, the son he had a few years after abandoning me - wanted to know his big half-brother. Well fuck them all. I didn’t want them in my life. I didn’t need them. I had spent so long as a family of one, I was used to it. That is what my stubborn self believed - while the young kid in me sank to the floor and cried.

There went my Saturday evening. I had been in a foul mood and had no desire to bring Branson down with me. Instead, with my stomach in knots, I’d dragged myself down to a bar with the intention of losing myself in the bitter taste of alcohol and the sweet ass of a man. Drowning my sorrows was something I was good at. And as for anonymous sex? Well, that sated an appetite that was even more demanding when loneliness and disappointment lived so viciously inside me. But as I’d sat in the crowded bar downing my third vodka and soda, the idea of finding someone to get lost in no longer appealed. The vodka though was doing the trick and with each drink I had, with each burning sip of the cool liquid, the less my heart ached.

A cute blonde had sidled up next to me at the bar, his scent was sweet and reminded me of candy floss and vanilla ice cream. Delicious. But even with his delectable scent, and striking brown eyes, when he offered to buy me a drink, I declined. I’d felt nothing towards the stranger, not even a small stirring of desire.

By midnight, my head had been swimming and a sour taste lingered in the back of my throat but I had at least spent a few hours not thinking about my father - the bar had been the perfect place to escape my reality and the decisions I would have to face sometime soon. I’d staggered off my chair, and headed outside into the chilly London night, calling a rideshare and making my way home. Alone.

Alone August. August Alone.

Sunday was no better. I had woken up with my head pounding and a foul taste in my mouth. With little to no desire to untangle myself from my sheets, I’d rolled over and picked up my phone only to see that my father had sent me a text. The only reason he even had my number was thanks to the short dealings we had had - through lawyers - about mom’s possessions after she’d died. His message was brief but every word felt like a dagger to my already broken heart.

Can we talk? Please.

No, we cannot fucking talk. Not after I wished every fucking birthday and Christmas and on every other meaningful day - for years - that he would reach out to me. Too little too late, dad. I didn’t reply. And I hadn’t answered my bedroom door when Branson knocked, asking me if I was okay. Only once did I yell at him to give me some time. Knowing that if I completely blanked him, it would only be a matter of moments before he broke my door off the hinges. He was and would always be my protector and I knew he only wanted to make sure I was okay, but I’d been too weak and too hurt to talk to him. He would understand. He always did.

This morning, I dragged myself to work. I wasn’t going to let my father get in the way of my job. I had barely slept all weekend and had drank so much I was sure I was sweating out the stench of stale alcohol. I looked like shit and people were giving me pitying looks. And I hated it. Because he did this - yet again he was fucking up my life.

To make things even worse, the first person to see me that morning was the cheeriest man I had ever known - Caleb. Happiness and sugar and boyish charm, he had looked at me like I was some sort of broken toy he wanted to fix. I couldn’t meet his eyes, I didn’t want to see pity in them. Add in the fact that I had also spilt coffee all over his white shirt and this day was getting worse by the second.

My plan for the day was to put my head down and work. I had no clients meetings thankfully. Who knows what they would have thought if they saw me looking like a truck had reversed over me twice. But there was a flaw in my plan. And he was tall and handsome, with beautiful hair, gorgeous eyes and an ass I wanted to bite.

At just past four, he was wandering around the office, chatting and laughing with Joe from accounts and then checking in withDaisy when he sauntered over to my desk. I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to. My body had developed this sixth sense related solely to his proximity to me. I could sense him, feel him, my blood went up a few degrees, my pulse quickened. My response to him was immediate and visceral. But I kept my head down.

“August are you free for a few minutes?” he asked, leaning closer to me but, asking loud enough for those around us to hear. Clever. Not like I could say no to the boss in front of all my colleagues.

I moved my head in an attempt at a nod. “Sure,” was all the answer I gave him, still not making eye contact.

He held his breath, then let out a sigh. “Okay, let’s go chat in my office then.”

He turned and walked away - I felt his absence rather than saw it - so I spun my chair around, got up and followed behind.

Caleb didn’t say a word when I entered but gestured for me to sit opposite him at his desk, while he rounded it and sat in his chair. I sat, my mouth going dry and my hands restless on my lap, my eyes focused downwards.

Caleb broke the silence, his voice warm, rich and comforting, “I know I asked you this morning and I also know I have no right to ask you again, but are you okay? Did something happen?” He was calm and assured, taking charge, looking out for his employee. Because that is what this was: him asking after an employee.

I nodded and finally, looked him in the eyes. The look on his face caught me by surprise and made my breath catch on the lump that had been stuck in my throat since I got that phone call on Saturday. For once, he wasn’t smiling, his lips were a firm line and his eyes were filled with concern, his brows drawn in a frown.

He cares, August.

I started to say that I was okay but at that moment, in a split decision, I decided not to lie. Caleb exuded nothing but kindness and I believed I could trust him. For once, I decided not to say I was okay when I wasn’t. To not pretend to be doing fine when I was really so weary and tired. I didn’t know what I planned to accomplish by being honest but this feeling in my gut told me he would listen. And something - something small but powerful - made me want to open myself up to this man, even just a little.

Taking a deep breath, I answered him honestly.

“I have some things to deal with and they are taking their toll on me.” I hastily added to my confession though, wanting to assure him that I could still do my job properly. “But you don’t need to worry, all my projects are on track and my client meetings are scheduled for Wednesday and I will be in tip top shape by then.” I gave a small, hesitant smile.

His concern didn’t fade, instead it seemed to magnify.

“I am not worried about your work, August.” His words came out sharp. “I am worried about you. I could see this morning when I ran into you that something was bothering you, and for some reason, that bothered me. A lot.”

It what? His honestly was refreshing but, what? My troubles bothered him. Why would that matter? Because I work for him?

“Why?” I asked bluntly. “Why do you care?” I wanted to delve into why he cared but at the same time the answer scared me. Very few people cared about me - Branson and his mom were probably the only ones who did. So, the thought that Caleb might care about me too was confusing. I was nothing to him, just another employee.

“I don’t know,” he said, simply. “But I saw you this morning, looking upset and I couldn’t ignore it, I couldn’t ignore you. I realise I’m your boss August and you may feel weird opening up to me but, I want you to know you can talk to me. I’d like you to talk to me. I’ve been told I am a very good listener.” He saidthat last bit with a sweet upward tilt of his lips, his eyes lighting up. The juxtaposition between this fancy businessman and the cute puppy dog eyes he aimed at me lifted some of the weight off my chest and for a moment, I sat and basked in the warmth of Caleb’s smile.

For a split second I had a moment of uncertainty. A moment in which I doubted my own thoughts on never falling in love. I wondered what it would feel like to have Caleb look at me like that every day. To feel his warmth wrapped around me, his calm words comforting me. I shook those thoughts from my mind. I was just tired and upset about the events of the weekend. I wasn’t thinking straight.

The conversion faltered then, neither of us saying anything more. The silence stretched for what felt like hours but was probably no more than a minute or two. Caleb never took his eyes off me and I watched as his facial expressions changed. He tilted his head to the side, as he mulled something over and he asked tentatively, “Do you, um, do you maybe want to get a drink after work?”