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Sixteen... Sixteen… Sixteen…
Sixteen steps is the number of steps it takes me to get from one side of my office to the other. I know this because I’ve been continually pacing and counting my steps since I arrived thirty minutes ago. I even had to crank the air conditioning and roll up my sleeves to keep from working up a sweat. I honestly don’t remember the last time I was this nervous.
Last night as I lay in bed, I worked out everything I wanted to say to Maeve this morning. But now the time is fast approaching, and the words are tangled up in my head like last year’s Christmas lights. And no amount of pacing seems to help.
I need to settle down and get my brain to cooperate before she arrives.
I drop down into my chair with a frustrated sigh. I’m not sure how she’s going to react to what I have to say, and at the same time, I can’t wait to say it. Fuck.
As a business owner, I’ve given many talks about real estate in front of large crowds and never suffered from a bout of debilitating nerves. But thinking about baring my soul to my golden goddess, is currently making my stomach turn and my knees weak.
Then again, my happiness has never before felt like it hinged on the outcome of a single conversation. It feels like Maeve literally controls our future. If she doesn’t agree to give us another chance and can’t be persuaded to, I’m fucked.
And not in the way I want to be.
I hear a knock on my door, and I’m sure it’s Maeve. I left something on her desk, knowing she’d need to ask me about it.
“Come in.”
She steps inside and closes the door. “Did you get this for me?” She walks toward me, holding up a white coffee mug that has a red dragon painted on it.
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to remind you of how much fun we had that night at the art studio, and I thought it looked a hell of a lot better than the dragon I painted.”
She smiles at me. “Thank you. And you’re right; it’s one million times better than your dragon.” She laughs and tips her head toward the door. “I better get to work.”
“Hey, while I have you here, can we talk about some things?” Rising, I make my way around the desk.
She nods. “Sure.”
“Let’s sit on the couch. It’ll be more comfortable.” We also won’t have a desk between us.
We settle side by side, and she places her mug on the coffee table.
“Did you want to talk about the retirement celebration?” she asks.
“No.” I nervously tug on my earlobe. “I want to talk about us.”
“Us?” Her brow furrows. “Am I getting fired?”
“No! Fuck no. Why would you think that?”
“You look so somber, like something’s on your mind. I just assumed you weren’t happy with our situation.”
“You’re right, something is on my mind. And I’m not happy with our situation. I’d like to make a change, and I’m hoping you’ll agree with what I have in mind.”
Her brow furrows even more. “Okay.”
“I want to be in a relationship with you,” I awkwardly blurt out.
Not as smooth as I was hoping for, but there it is.
“But we can’t,” she whispers.
“I know you’re my employee, and it might not seem like the ideal situation for us to be together, but I’m tired of pretending I don’t have deeper feelings for you. I’m tired of not being able to touch you whenever I want. I’m tired of not kissing you. And most of all, I’m fucking tired of depriving myself of your company when you’re all I think about every moment I’m awake. And even when I’m asleep, my dreams are about you.” Pausing, I run my fingers through my hair.