Page 10 of The Grump's Assistant

“Vincent,” he replies, his no-nonsense tone matching mine. While our lifestyles are completely different, we have common ground when it comes to how we communicate.

“Has it been six months already?” I ask, checking the date on my computer.

“You make it sound like we have scheduled calls. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me you have an allotted time slot for personal calls.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I say with a sigh.

“I know, I know. I’m giving you shit. Someone has to.”

I grunt, which makes my old friend bark out a laugh. It’s about as rusty as mine, but truthfully, I’m glad to be talking to him. Cutter hasn’t had an easy go of it the last few years after a tragic incident involving his father. We were talking more regularly immediately afterward, but the weeks keep turning into months, as they do, and it’s probably been too long since I’ve checked in on Cutter. He’s all alone out there on the top of his mountain. Looking out of my corner office window looming above the city, I realize that’s another thing we have in common.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers all too quickly. I wait a beat, silently letting him know I don’t buy his bullshit. “Mostly,” he hedges.

I hum in acknowledgment but don’t say anything. Cutter needs space to tell me whatever is on his mind. I can’t do much to ease his suffering, but I can listen.

“The thing is,” he continues. “There’s this… thiswoman.” I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but that wasn’t it.

“Oh?” I nearly choke on the word. Is this yet another thing we have in common? Women who have taken our attention and energy without our permission?

“Yeah. Well, I mean… shit. It’s not likethat. God knows I don’t deserve to have that kind of relationship.”

“Cutter, that’s not true.” I hate that my friend carries around so much guilt.

“Agree to disagree,” he grunts. “Anyway, this woman, she’s… she’s in my space.”

“Okay…” I draw the word out, not sure what he’s getting at.

“Like, literally. In my cabin. Can’t remember the last time someone else was here. I don’t think I’ve had a visitor since before…” Cutter trails off, not wanting to finish the thought. I know what he’s referring to. He hasn’t had anyonein his spacesince before the incident. “Anyway. She’s resting up now and I don’t know… I don’t know what to do.”

“Resting up?”

“Yeah, the little trespasser was wandering around my property last night in high-heels and some fancy business outfit one of your employees would wear. She just needed a place to stay for the night. Once she wakes up, I’ll send her back down the mountain.” He’s talking to himself more than me, but I don’t mind. If he needs to process stuff out loud, being here is the least I can do for my friend.

“Sounds like a good plan,” I say after a few moments of silence. “Everything okay?” I ask again. After years of knowing Cutter, I can tell something, or possiblysomeone, has rattled him.

He sighs heavily, and I can see him running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… she’s here, ya know?”

“Yes, you already said that. But she’ll be gone as soon as she wakes up, right? No big deal. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to brood and tend to the land in the afternoon.”

“Right. Yeah.” Cutter sounds lost in thought. “But I think maybe I… like her here?”

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline and I pull the phone away from my face to stare at it. Shit, we really do have the same conundrum going on. “I get it,” I tell him, bringing the phone back to my ear. I’m not sure if I meant to say the words out loud, but it’s too late to take them back now.

“Really?! I thought you were going to tell me to wake her up and kick her out.”

“Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” he admits, letting out another exasperated breath. “What’s going on with you? Did you have a stroke and suddenly believe in the power of love?”

“No,” I scoff. I don’t think I sound too believable, however. When Cutter snorts out a laugh, I know I must have come off as overly defensive. “I don’t believe in the power of love,” I reiterate. “I can sympathize with unexpected women bursting into your life and making you… feel things.”

“Now this is a story I need to hear.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I say, unconvincingly. “She’s my assistant and that’s that.”

“Right,” he confirms. “You have an assistant, and I have a trespasser. That’s all they are.” He’s talking to himself as much as me. “We don’t do relationships. We’re better alone.”

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