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NyQuil, then?
Spencer
I’m fine, Nate. Just let me sleep it off. Please? Your new project manager is starting today anyway. Dawn told me to put a block on your calendar. You can’t miss that meeting.
I tap her photo and hit the call button. Spencer answers with a disgruntled, “What?” Her voice has already changed from when I saw her a couple hours ago. Whatever she has is escalating fast. She said she was extra tired. That’s probably what she’s been puking up, all that coffee.
“I can miss any fucking meeting I want. I’m coming home to take care of you…just as soon as I pick up a hazmat suit.”
“Hilarious,” she grumbles, devoid of actual mirth in her tone. “Out of curiosity, could you get a hazmat suit?”
“Easily.”
“Such a humble billionaire.”
“Aren’t I though?”
“Do you need anything else?” Her last question sounds more like a plea than her usual snark. Now, I’m worried.
“No. Seriously, what do you need?”
“Just some rest.”
Hmm, I’m not buying it. I get that she’s a suffer-in-silence type, no surprise there. Spencer is much stronger than she gives herself credit for. She carries the weight of the world on her back, and even when it cracks, she keeps moving. The thing is, she’s not alone anymore. She can put away her brave face. I want her to need me as much as I need her.
“Okay, get some sleep. I’ll check in with you the minute this meeting is over.”
We end the call, just in time for Dawn to enter my office.
“My oh my, you’re looking dapper today.”
Dawn holds out her arms and spins around, showing off her ruby-red A-line skirt with the bow around her waist. It complements her new hair color, which is now a deep red brown. Over the years, Dawn has sported every color in the book—red, jet black, platinum blonde. But she’s stuck within the spectrum of red the longest.
She freezes, examining my office makeover. “Still looks like a Powerpuff Girl threw up in here.” She holds up her hands before I can answer. “Is Spencer taking over this office now?”
I roll my eyes as I exhale. “No. She’s not.”
“Then she got you good.”
“It was somewhat deserved.” I shrug.
She curls her lips in amusement. “Glad you’re so self-aware these days.”
“Mhm.”
“Anyway, why am I here? I got your email requesting I grace you with my presence.” She pulls out the chic pink-colored, golden-legged chair across from my desk and flutters her lashes. “I’m here. I’m gracing.”
“How close are you with Julia?” I ask right away.
Dawn’s brows lift into wide arches, surprise painting her face. “Much closer than you are.”
“I’m trying to fix that. I’ve been a little?—”
“Cold? Distant? Rude? Spiteful?” shehelpfullysupplies.
I level a stare. “I was going to say busy.”
“I think my suggestions were more accurate.”