Page 45 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
“Perfect. See you tomorrow.”
“You want to hang up already?”
“Yeah, weren’t you going for a swim?”
“Yeah, I was… um, so until tomorrow. One works?”
“Sure, that works.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
I nod to her and hang up. It’s best if I talk to the team right now. The sooner everyone knows, the longer they’ll have to think it over.
The next morning, I drive to the office again. I park, turn off the engine, and check the messages on my phone again.
So far, only one person from the team has said no. His wife and kids insist on staying in New York. We still need to discuss the severance package, but of course I’ll pay him generously. I hope the rest will follow me to London. I need the team on-site—preferably all of them. So, I write back: “Relocation costs will be covered. Housing will also be fully reimbursed. Your children’s schooling will be taken care of. Maybe it could be a new beginning?” I completely understand not wanting to uproot their whole life. Even I found it hard to return to London, even though I was born here and was only in New York for five years.
Stephanie has sent me a series of pictures. I just skim through them quickly. Her in yoga clothes. Her in a bikini. Her cooking dinner. Looks like she’s missed me. Back in New York, she didn’t send that many pictures. She also writes: #perfectwify.
Yes, she is. I text her back a smiley face.
I grab my things and head inside. There’s still a lot of work waiting for me today, but I’m really looking forward to seeing London again.
My father is to blame. He planted this idea in my head, and now I can’t stop thinking about asking her out.
When I get upstairs, London is already at her desk. She yawns and peers sleepily into her coffee cup.
“Rough night?” I ask, amused. London jumps—she didn’t see me coming in. Her cheeks immediately flush. Cute.
“Good morning. Yeah. I couldn’t really sleep. But coffee should fix it.”
“Still sore from boxing?”
“A little.” She rubs her neck.
Should I offer to give her a massage? No, that would be too much. Or would it?
“If I call downstairs, you’ll get an appointment right away.”
“That wouldn’t be fair,” she says, which makes me smile.
“I could…” No. I shouldn’t offer that. “Well, we could hire someone new. Seems like there’s a demand.”
“Hmm, I like that. Should I make a job posting?”
“Yes. Starting immediately. You can book an appointment right away or have a trial massage. During working hours, of course.”
Yep, that’s better than offering to do it myself.
“Well, I’m all for that,” she says brightly. “I’ll take care of it right away.” Seeing her smile feels good.
“Excellent.” I’m about to leave but turn back: “Oh, by the way, Stephanie’s coming at one. I’ll have lunch with her in my office.”
“Got it. For an hour?”
“Thirty minutes should be enough.”
She looks at her screen. “Your next appointment isn’t until 2:30. Technically, she could stay for ninety minutes.”
