Page 26
Story: The Boss Problem
Lucas stomped on the floor and shouted, “You’re lying. I want to speak to Mom right now. Call her!”
Where was his mom? Why wasn’t anyone able to call her?
Sean attempted to soften his voice and knelt down to look in his son’s eye. “Lucas, I’ll call Mom later. Here, why don’t you see what I got for you—Spider-Man fig?—”
The boy wasn’t paying any attention to his dad. His eyes drifted to the open office door and with a yell, he shouted, “I’m calling her right now from your phone,” and ran for the door.
Sean and the nanny followed him inside while I was reeling with the realization that Sean was married and had a family.
I hadn’t looked into his personal life, but I had noticed the lack of a ring and assumed that he was unmarried.
Wishing I could stop the train of thoughts in my head, I turned to give Sean some space. He was having a hard time with his son, and my presence was only making it tougher for him. I was familiar with hard times.
There had been a lot of emotional meltdowns while Henry tried to come to terms with his new way of living, and in these situations, I knew that strangers were a pain at best. Ten years later, he had long-term disability, and I had become well versed with pain management.
I reached the elevator and got in, pressing the button for the lobby when I heard another shout. Lucas ran out of Sean’s office, Sean and his nanny on his heels. He outran them easily, getting into the elevator with me just before the doors shut, almost hurting himself in the process.
My heart raced at the close call as the elevator started moving down.
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, kneeling down to look at him at eye level.
He looked visibly distressed, and tears were welling up in his eyes.
“Well, that was clearly a silly question for me to ask,” I said in a lighter voice as I fake smacked myself on the forehead with my palm. “You have every right to be upset because your dad wasn’t honest with you. Ignore my question. Now, which floor do you need to get to?” I asked him while he furiously blinked the tears away.
He looked a little less distressed now.
“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter,” he said in a low voice that painfully reminded me of a younger Henry’s. He continued to keep his eyes focused on the ground.
My heart went out to him.
“You know, when I was younger and needed to make a great escape, I realized that the best spot to hide in was sometimes the most obvious one.”
He didn’t acknowledge me, but I knew he was listening.
“Do you want me to help you hide from your dad? We can hide together. I’m the best at finding hiding spots.”
“Really?” he asked doubtfully, looking up at me at last.
I nodded. “When I was seven and mad at my family, I found such a good hiding spot that neither my mom nor my brother could find me for three hours. Oh, it was splendid.”
“Where did you hide?” His voice—boyish, innocent—rang out in the elevator as it continued its descent.
I grinned at that memory. “I was sitting at my table in my room all along. Everyone who came to my room to search for me didn’t do more than glance at the empty bed in my room before going away.”
He turned and met my gaze. “That doesn’t sound like a great spot,” he admitted finally. “But at least you had your mom andbrother to search for you. If I hid for three hours, no one would even notice.”
Oof. Those were deep pains, and for once, I was stumped for a response.
Putting my arm around him, I drew him in for a hug. He didn’t resist, but his shoulders trembled while he rested his head on my shoulder.
“It feels like everyone is hiding from me. Mom, Dad … no one’s around,” he said in a strangled voice.
“Well, how about this? I’ll be there for you. The next time your dad’s giving you a hard time, you tell him to get Chloe Nichols on the line. I’m his assistant, and that means he gets to call me at all hours of the day and night. So, he’d definitelynotsay no to calling me. I’m one cab ride away from you, so I’ll always show up for you. Okay?”
We reached the lobby, and I could feel him nod as he stepped back.
“Besides, I don’t want to hide.” He looked through the open elevator doors, not making a run for it anymore.
Where was his mom? Why wasn’t anyone able to call her?
Sean attempted to soften his voice and knelt down to look in his son’s eye. “Lucas, I’ll call Mom later. Here, why don’t you see what I got for you—Spider-Man fig?—”
The boy wasn’t paying any attention to his dad. His eyes drifted to the open office door and with a yell, he shouted, “I’m calling her right now from your phone,” and ran for the door.
Sean and the nanny followed him inside while I was reeling with the realization that Sean was married and had a family.
I hadn’t looked into his personal life, but I had noticed the lack of a ring and assumed that he was unmarried.
Wishing I could stop the train of thoughts in my head, I turned to give Sean some space. He was having a hard time with his son, and my presence was only making it tougher for him. I was familiar with hard times.
There had been a lot of emotional meltdowns while Henry tried to come to terms with his new way of living, and in these situations, I knew that strangers were a pain at best. Ten years later, he had long-term disability, and I had become well versed with pain management.
I reached the elevator and got in, pressing the button for the lobby when I heard another shout. Lucas ran out of Sean’s office, Sean and his nanny on his heels. He outran them easily, getting into the elevator with me just before the doors shut, almost hurting himself in the process.
My heart raced at the close call as the elevator started moving down.
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, kneeling down to look at him at eye level.
He looked visibly distressed, and tears were welling up in his eyes.
“Well, that was clearly a silly question for me to ask,” I said in a lighter voice as I fake smacked myself on the forehead with my palm. “You have every right to be upset because your dad wasn’t honest with you. Ignore my question. Now, which floor do you need to get to?” I asked him while he furiously blinked the tears away.
He looked a little less distressed now.
“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter,” he said in a low voice that painfully reminded me of a younger Henry’s. He continued to keep his eyes focused on the ground.
My heart went out to him.
“You know, when I was younger and needed to make a great escape, I realized that the best spot to hide in was sometimes the most obvious one.”
He didn’t acknowledge me, but I knew he was listening.
“Do you want me to help you hide from your dad? We can hide together. I’m the best at finding hiding spots.”
“Really?” he asked doubtfully, looking up at me at last.
I nodded. “When I was seven and mad at my family, I found such a good hiding spot that neither my mom nor my brother could find me for three hours. Oh, it was splendid.”
“Where did you hide?” His voice—boyish, innocent—rang out in the elevator as it continued its descent.
I grinned at that memory. “I was sitting at my table in my room all along. Everyone who came to my room to search for me didn’t do more than glance at the empty bed in my room before going away.”
He turned and met my gaze. “That doesn’t sound like a great spot,” he admitted finally. “But at least you had your mom andbrother to search for you. If I hid for three hours, no one would even notice.”
Oof. Those were deep pains, and for once, I was stumped for a response.
Putting my arm around him, I drew him in for a hug. He didn’t resist, but his shoulders trembled while he rested his head on my shoulder.
“It feels like everyone is hiding from me. Mom, Dad … no one’s around,” he said in a strangled voice.
“Well, how about this? I’ll be there for you. The next time your dad’s giving you a hard time, you tell him to get Chloe Nichols on the line. I’m his assistant, and that means he gets to call me at all hours of the day and night. So, he’d definitelynotsay no to calling me. I’m one cab ride away from you, so I’ll always show up for you. Okay?”
We reached the lobby, and I could feel him nod as he stepped back.
“Besides, I don’t want to hide.” He looked through the open elevator doors, not making a run for it anymore.
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