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“Well, no… but?—”
“No buts. You don’t see the way you light up when you’re baking or talking about your bakery. You get so happy, so passionate. And that’s what we want for you. We want you to be able to pursue that dream and make something of it. Working for us isn’t going to get you there.”
Again, I’m stunned into speechlessness. I can feel tears prickling behind my eyes, and I blink quickly, trying to hold them back. It’s my instinct to argue that I don’t deserve this. That it shouldn’t be this easy for me to get everything I want.
As if he can read my mind, Xavier comes over and takes my hand. “Let us do this for you,” he says softly.
All I can do is nod, laughing a little as the tears overflow and spill down my cheeks. “Okay. Okay, you win.”
“Good girl,” Dominic rumbles, looking pleased.
“I don’t mean to be ungrateful, I really don’t. It’s just that I’m not used to people taking care of me like this. I’m not used to anyone caring enough to… to do something this big.”
“You’ll need to get used to it,” Xavier says, squeezing my hand.
“Because we plan to take care of you from now on,” Dominic adds.
Even Tristan has a hint of a smile on his face, and I surrender to the feelings of gratitude and care.
Chapter 33
Tristan
“What’s wrong with you?” Xavier asks me, one eyebrow raised.
“Nothing,” I mutter back. “Pay attention.”
We’re in yet another meeting, another important one that needs to be handled well so our business can thrive and we can stay on the right track.
Dominic is nodding along with something that one of our development team members is saying, making notes on his laptop, and even Xavier has focused on what’s being presented. When he’s not badgering me, that is.
It’s only me who feels restless and irritated, unable to focus on what’s being said or why this is important. My cursor blinks at me accusingly from a blank document, proof of how little I’ve retained from this.
Xavier is eyeing me skeptically, and gratefully the meeting breaks up before he can start asking again what my issue is.
I do see him lean over to mutter something to Dominic, and both of them look over at me, but by that point I’m gathering my things and moving to leave the conference room.
I don’t want to hear whatever it is they’re going to say.
The problem is Penelope.
The problem has been Penelope since she came into our lives. She’s still there at home, filling the house with the smell of baked goods and her own sweet, floral scent, but at the office, she’s gone.
She’s gone, and I feel it like missing a limb.
My instincts clamor at me about it, leaving me grumpy because I want to see her. I keep sifting through the air, trying to pick up her scent, only to remember that she’s not here anymore.
And it’s a good thing she isn’t. It is. Giving her that building so she can follow her dreams was the right thing to do. And getting her out of the office, so she’s not always here, was supposed to be a good thing too.
But I’m left with my altered routine, the one I adjusted so I could see her more often, and the fact that there’s no her to see now.
I go back to my office and settle in to start working on proposals for the new client we’re going to be onboarding soon.
My part to play in the process is important, smoothing over their worries about moving their data to the cloud and assuring them of the security and reliability of our servers.
This is usually the easy part for me. The part I built my business on and can do with my eyes closed now. I have all the information about the new client and all the info on what they’re looking for. I just have to link how we can make it happen.
But I can’t focus. All I keep thinking about is Penelope. The way she looked when she was in heat, the tears shining in her eyes when we took her to her bakery and told her it was hers again. The excitement on her face and the way her scent filtered pleasantly through the house for the last few days while she worked out what she wants to sell this time around.