Page 70 of The Wife Situation

“And so it begins,” he says.

Before I can tell him to fuck off, he ends the call.

After I’ve had my caffeine for the day and get dressed, I climb the stairs two at a time and enter my office. My degrees and certificates hang proudly on the wall with photographs of my family.

Each Sunday, I spend the morning reviewing my agenda for the week and lay out every video conference I’m required to attend. My days are full of virtual and in-person meetings with investors, board members, directors, and executives.

While I was traveling around the world, doing official business, I was in different time zones, so I missed a lot. I tried to stay informed as much as possible. Playing catch-up while trying to fulfill my end of the contract to become CEO has been difficult, and I find myself growing exhausted with each passing day.

Half of the meetings should be canceled because they are a waste of my time. When I take over, if it can be said in an email, I expect one. This needs to stop.

I work until nine and find myself daydreaming as I look out at the park. It’s a beautiful day without a cloud in the sky, and I need fresh air.

After I change into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, I grab my Yankees baseball hat and sunglasses, then text Brody. When I step out, I always let him know where I’m going.

He sends me a thumbs-up emoji and I shake my head. I don’t know why one thumb can aggravate me so much, but it does. Lexi would probably say it’s elder millennial rage. It is.

I grab my drawing notebook and ink pen, then leave.

Stella, the building manager, greets me by the security desk. “Good morning. I received your email, Mr. Calloway.”

“Thank you,” I offer.

“We’ll be ready for her arrival.”

I nod and continue, happy to know Lexi will be given access to everything I own. Except for the keys to my cars.

Once outside, the bright sun warms my skin as I cross the street and take the sidewalk to the paved path. People play with their dogs. Bicyclists zoom by as runners sprint past me in their gear, huffing. I glance over my shoulder, spotting Brody fifty feet away. I find a random bench and sit.

Five minutes later, Brody joins me at the same one.

“You had fun last night.” His brows pop. It’s a statement, not a question.

“Please remind me why I haven’t fired you yet.”

“Because I’d fuck you up.”

“Good point,” I tell him.

Plus, he’s the best there is, and he’s family, but we never discuss that.

“So, you two …” He doesn’t finish, but the silent question lingers.

“She’s moving in today.”

He doesn’t react to the news, but I didn’t expect him to because he’s a brick wall. Brody’s perfected shielding his emotions over the years, and I’m convinced he’s better than I am.

It’s why I tell him things though. He’s a good listener, and it stays between us.

“This just got interesting,” he says, and I follow his gaze.

Then, I see her.

Alexis walks with Carlee across the grass, and she’s smiling. They’re holding iced coffees, laughing about something.

“What does her shirt say?” I strain to read the words in the distance.This is my improv shirt. I burst into laughter.

“She gives no fucks,” he mutters, and I don’t take my eyes off her.

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