Page 26 of DadBod
ELIZABETH
“Thanks for staying.”Rome is standing behind his desk, sorting through papers. A lot of papers. I’ve only been in his office a few times, and it’s always immaculate. There’s never even dust on top, but tonight, well, you can’t even see the top of his desk.
“No problem.” I hesitate but go ahead and say it. “Sorry about tonight.”
He looks up at me. Our eyes meet. I wish I could tell you a smile crossed his lips, but nope. Nada. He does say, however, “I assume it’s because you were worried about this meeting.”
“Yep.”
“I should have reassured you, but I didn’t want people to think––”
“That I was your favorite?”
He looks at me for a solid fifteen seconds before muttering, “Something like that.”
Without asking, I sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He should have offered since I just worked a hellish shift, but since he didn’t, I plopped right down and sighed at the relief of getting off my feet. That’s when I see my shoes. The ones shiny with the oils from the house dressing. “I wonder if that’s gonna come out in the wash?”
Sure, I’m talking to myself.
“What?” Rome asks distractedly. He’s still sorting through papers.
“Nothing.”
I wait for what seems like ten minutes, but it was probably closer to five. Long enough that I feel like this conversation may never happen and that Jeriann may decide to leave without me. “Um, Rome. Jeriann’s waiting for me.”
“Right.” He drops a stack of papers and places his hands on the desk. “Elizabeth.”
I’m torn between doing that thing where I slide down the chair onto the floor to hide, and leaning forward to hear what he’s got to say. I choose neither. Instead, I sit absolutely still. “Yes?”
“I need a favor.”
A favor?
Oh God. Please tell me it’s a sexual favor…
Shit. That did not just run through my head. No. I shake my head in an attempt to make my dirty thoughts go away.
“No?” Rome frowns. “I haven’t even told you what it is.”
“No.” I clear my throat. “Sorry. Just tired.”
“I bet you are.” Rome’s lips turn up on one side. I’d call it a smirk. A small smirk.
I wait for him to continue, and he pulls his chair out and sits. Placing his elbows on the desk, he clasps his hands together in front of him. Leaning forward, he places his chin on his hands. “I need help with the kids.”
“The kids?” I know which kids, but I felt like I need to say something.
He clarifies, “Calvin and Ryann.”
“Calvin and Ryann.”
“Yes. My children.”
I don’t know why but that makes me giggle. He’s getting grumpier the longer this conversation goes on, and that makes me laugh. “I know they’re your children.”
“Are you okay?” His right brow is arching now. “Maybe this isn’t a good––”
Holding up my hand, I stop him. Clearing my throat to show him I’m taking this seriously now, I ask, “What do you mean by needing help?”