Page 10 of Like You Want It

“Carly, you’re as good as they come,” he’d said. “And don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re anything less.”

Of course, he’d never admit to saying thatnow.He’s one of those guys that prefers to keep their emotions close to their chest. And by close, I mean hidden under a flannel, a white shirt, and a pacemaker.

He glowers at my smile, but I can see that little twinkle in his eye that means he actually loves me, so my smile grows.

“What can I do for you?” I ask, stepping into his office. “I am at your humble service,” I tack on with a tiny bow.

That just gets me an eye roll and a little huff as he closes the door behind me and trudges back to his oversized rolling desk chair.

“Well, first of all, you can wipe that smile off your face.”

“Never!” I declare, throwing a fist in the air.

At least with that little flair of theatrics I get a twitch in his lip.

“Second,” he continues, his fingers tapping on his knee, a nervous expression flitting over his face that I’m not used to, “I wanted to let you know some news.”

He pauses and my heart sinks.

“Are you okay? Like, is something wrong? What can I do?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that,” he assures me, and I let out a relieved sigh.

Until his next words.

“I’ve decided to retire.”

If it’s possible, my stomach swallows itself and then vomits everything into my lungs.

“Retire?”

The word comes out reluctantly, like my throat also knows what a shit situation this is and doesn’t want to play along.

Lonnie nods, and then a real smile starts to appear on his face.

“I’ve decided to move to Texas. My brother lives there and… well, he’s got a bunch of grandkids, and a few great grandkids. I’ve never met them, and it would be nice to live near family.” He shrugs, his eyes focused on where his hand is tracing the edge of his desk calendar. “You know, Joanna and I never had kids and, I don’t know. I guess it seems like it’s time for a change.”

For the first time probably ever in my life, I feel a bit speechless. Not because I havenothingto say, but because what I want to say and what I should say don’t match. And while that’s never stopped me before, this doesn’t seem like the right moment.

Lonnie’s never really talked about his family. He briefly mentions Joanna here and there and I’ve heard brief snippets about his sister’s family. But I haven’t heard a wink about these Texans. The family members that are about to steal away the man who has been a paternal figure in my life from the minute I met him.

So when he tells me he wants to retire to move thousands of miles away, I want to tell him not to do it. That he’s stupid to leave a job he loves. That I don’t want him to move away. That these people he’s never mentioned before clearly don’t care about him as much asIdo.

But it would be an incredibly selfish thing. Trying to make an older man feel guilty for finding what makes him happy. When really, I just don’t want to lose him. Or my job.

Speaking of which…

“So, what’s the plan with The Steam Room if you’re retiring?” I finally manage to squeak out. “Are you gonna sell it?”

He shrugs, which isn’t a move I see very often from him. Lonnie is a man of decisive action. It wouldn’t matter if you told him about a brand new topic that he’d never heard of, he’d tell you he already had an opinion. I remember the first time he heard about Tinder.

“It’s horrible,” he’d said.

“Do you even know what it is?” I asked him.

He glared at me, then spun around and continued to work at his desk.

So his lack of certainty about what to do with The Steam Room worries me slightly.