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“I won’t be.”
Dad looks dubious, but nods. “Good.”
“She’s really serious about this guy,” I comment. “We never had solo dinners with Cal.”
“Well, Cal was already familiar with the family.”
I don’t think that’s why, and I doubt Dad does either.
“What do you think of Charlie?” I ask.
“I like him.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “But don’t mentionthat to your sister. She’s too young to get serious about a guy.”
“She’s twenty-five. Isn’t that how old you and Mom were when you gotmarried?”
Dad shakes his head. “That was different.”
“Uh-huh, sure. How?”
“Because I had to marry your mother in order to date her.”
I laugh. “Sounds like you had some serious game, Dad.”
“We’ve been together for over two decades, son. Obviously, I did something right. See you this afternoon.” He leaves, shutting the door behind him.
I take a seat at my desk and start tackling the outrageous number of emails that piled up over the past two days. I should have answered some over the weekend.
But I haven’t changedthatmuch.
8
“And this is your desk.” Laura leads me over to a station that looks the same as the ones lining the outside of every office we’ve passed.
The raised counter around it offers some privacy, almost like a cubicle, but is low enough to see over if you’re standing near enough. Aside from a desktop, keyboard, mouse, and phone, the desk is empty. Maybe I should buy a plant to decorate it.
Kit has a corner office. And his door is solid wood, not frosted glass, like the other offices lining this hallway, which is especiallyintimidating. I’m relieved by the barrier too. Focusing on tasks would be a lot harder if I knew his eyes might be on me at any point.
Christopher Kensingtonis engraved on the shiny nameplate left of the knob.
I don’t know much about Kensington Consolidated as a company. Just the little Lili has mentioned over the years, plus general knowledge. They’re very successful, and they own a lot of subsidiaries—that’s the gist of the information I’ve retained. A lot of the tasks I’ll be responsible for—filing, phone-answering, note-taking—are familiar from my job at Carter Thomas. But same as the offices, they feel elevated here. I wasn’t working on million—or billion?—dollar deals in Chicago.
“Let’s see if Mr. Kensington is available,” Laura says, continuing past my new desk and straight toward the imposing door.
I manage a nod she misses, my stomach somersaulting in a way that makes me glad I skipped breakfast this morning.
He’s not Lili’s little brother here. He’s not even Kit. He’sMr. Kensington, which sounds stuffy and formidable and prestigious, especially coming from a woman who’s roughly the age of his mother.
Laura knocks once on the dark wood. “Mr. Kensington? It’s Laura. Do you have a minute to meet your new assistant?”
My mind fixates onmeetandnew. I don’t know what magic Lili worked behind the scenes, but no one I’ve encountered so far has had any clue I’ve met members of the Kensington family before.
It’s a relief, honestly, to feel like a regular employee, making a fresh start she desperately needed.
For the first timeever, I feel some sympathy for Kit. That’s one luxury hedoesn’thave. He couldn’t pretend he had no connection to this company on his first day.
“Yes, come in.”
I’ve heard Kit talk many times before. Usually while wishing he’d stop.