Page 38 of Matthias’s Protective Embrace (Cardinal Falls #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

MATTHIAS

I tap my finger against the arm of the chair outside the conference room.

I’m prepared for this. Overprepared even.

My mind is full of all the things I want to say during this interview.

I’ve written out responses to questions I think they’ll ask, practiced answering in the mirror, and thought through every eventuality I can think of.

I spent every spare minute of the last week prepping.

With it being the first week of the new year, other things have been relatively light.

It’s still meant a lot of late nights, which I hate.

I never loved staying up, but now that it means I don’t get to fall asleep next to Frank, I loathe it.

Sure, he’s there when I eventually crawl between the sheets, but it’s a different feeling than drifting off together.

So why am I so nervous?

“Mr. Weber?” Beth, one of the administrative assistants, walks in front of me. “They’re ready for you.”

I nod, swallowing hard enough that she probably heard me.

Hopefully, she keeps that little tidbit to herself.

Though she’s loyal to Cedric Maxwell, her boss and one of the partners.

I know from being on the other side of the interview table that the various administrative assistants are always spies, telling us the little things candidates do and say when they think no one’s watching.

“Thanks, Beth.”

I make my way into the conference room. Flashbacks of my initial interview run through my head.

It looked about like this, with the senior members of the team gathered around the table, waiting to begin the interrogation.

Not a lot has changed since then. It’s still two of the partners, Cedric Maxwell and Harold Tate, waiting in the room.

My father let me know he’s recused himself from the entire process, unable to be neutral in the decision.

They’re joined by two of the top people in the company, Stephen and Jacob.

Neither of them is a partner, but they’re Vice Presidents and hold a great deal of the decision-making capacity.

“Good morning, Matthias. Please, have a seat.” It’s not hard to guess where Cedric wants me.

There’s only one chair on this side of the table.

It might be more intimidating if I hadn’t known most of these people since I was a teenager.

They look big and scary like this, dressed in crisp suits and bow ties, leather padfolios in front of them with notes scribbled from previous interviews.

Except, Stephen and his wife came to Christmas dinner, where they both got tipsy and played a terrible game of Pictionary with us.

Harold used to come to some of my soccer games, screaming as loud as my father when I scored a goal, but then turning right back to do business during breaks and half-time.

I remind myself that if I don’t get this position, none of those things will change. We’ll still be the same people we were yesterday. It helps calm some of the anxiety that’s been coursing through me this morning.

“We’ve got a series of questions for you, but then we’ll have time to answer any questions you might have for us about the position. Does that work for you?” Cedric asks once I’m seated.

“Sounds good, thank you.”

The next thirty minutes are a mix of questions about my past experiences, current clients, and hypotheticals about the future.

It’s tedious at times, pulling out numbers from reports I have in front of me, thinking aloud to explain my thought processes, and generally trying to keep a smile on my face the whole time.

“One more question from us.” Harold smiles softly at me. “Why do you want this promotion?”

“I—” My brain grinds to a halt. I know I thought about this question.

There’s an in-depth answer written out on my computer, detailing all the reasons why I think I’m ready for the additional responsibility that comes with a promotion and how all the work I’ve done over the last few years demonstrates growth and achievement.

Except, for the first time, it hits me that that’s not what they’re asking.

They’re asking me why I want the job, not why I deserve it .

And honestly? I have no idea. Which is terrifying.

That’s the kind of thing I should have an answer for.

Given the number of hours I spent working and the years I spent thinking about and dreaming of this opportunity, I don’t think I ever stopped to ask why I wanted it.

Now that I have, my mind is completely blank.

Not wanting to screw up the interview, I fall back on my default answer.

“Over the last seven years, I’ve dedicated myself to this company and to my clients.

My numbers speak for themselves in this case, demonstrating that I can provide the kind of service and hands-on touch that not only brings in new customers, but keeps them returning month after month.

I believe that the next step for me is to become a senior associate and take on the additional responsibility that comes with that role.

It’s a natural progression of my skills and knowledge. ”

A sea of head bobbing on the other side of the table greets me. After a few more minutes of me asking questions about expectations and potential timelines, I’m ushered back to the door.

It’ll be a few weeks before I hear anything. Which is good news because I need some time to consider my little blip.

That’s what I’m calling it. A blip. A moment when things went a little fuzzy before coming back online.

Back at my office, I shut the door, letting my assistant know I wouldn’t be available for an hour. Given that interview schedules can quickly go awry, I don’t have any meetings scheduled until this afternoon.

I slouch in my seat, trying to come up with good explanations. When I pick up my phone, I have a series of various messages.

Frank

Good luck!!!

Aaron

You’ll do great! Call me when it’s over.

Nathan

You’ve got this!

Tyler

You don’t need it, but good luck.

Mom

Break a leg, sweetie!

Dad

I know you’re going to impress them.

Everyone I love is sending me good wishes, even if I know Aaron secretly—or not so secretly—wishes I would quit and find a different job.

Love.

I easily lump Frank into that category with the rest of my loved ones.

It feels too soon. We haven’t been dating that long, but I swear I fell for him that first morning.

And then a little bit more every morning after that.

Each time I left the water bottle on the back porch.

Each time I brought him coffee in the morning.

When he came to my house after class to rest or study.

All of those moments when my admiration and love for him grew.

My Firecracker, who hasn’t had things easy, but lets it all roll off him as best he can. Who keeps chasing his dreams, even when the world rolls stones into his path.

I text him back first.

Me

I think it went okay.

Frank

Of course it did. They know you’re the best.

I can’t help my smile. Yeah, I love him. Now, I have to figure out how to tell him.

FRANK

I’m counting down the days until I move into Matthias’s house. I prefer to think of it that way, moving into his house instead of moving in with him, because it makes it sound less strange.

Otherwise, moving in with my boyfriend is too weird. Especially since we haven’t been dating very long. If circumstances were different, if I wasn’t about to be homeless, I’m sure this milestone would come a year from now. Maybe longer.

I’m still very excited. I mean, going from a basement cave to that place is a big glow-up.

If nothing else, the bathroom will make it worthwhile.

He’s got a separate tub and shower, plus that thing where you can warm the floors.

I’ve installed plenty of those over the years, but always thought they seemed like an eclectic luxury.

Nope, not anymore. After benefitting from it in the morning when I pad into the bathroom, barefoot, to take a piss, I’m never going back.

Hopefully, I won’t have to.

It makes sense anyway, moving in. That’s not a super romantic notion, but I spend most of my time there.

I sleep there almost every night. Logistically, being in the same space as Matthias is a major plus.

He helps me ensure I have my water bottle and food for the day, especially now that he can’t simply leave them on the back porch.

I guess it’s what he meant about the whole Daddy thing, but I really am taken care of.

I wish every night could be that way, but tonight I’m at home.

Or at least my current home. Matthias has a big work meeting to attend, and I need to do some packing.

There’s not a lot here, but enough that I need to put it in boxes and suitcases.

Matthias enlisted his friends to do the heavy lifting.

It’s unnecessary considering all this would fit inside Squeezy without issue, but it’s nice that they’re willing to help.

It’s a little after eight when I pull into my parents’ driveway.

Statistics class is killing, thinking about all the different probabilities.

It’s better than calculus though, so I’m not complaining.

It does make me reconsider several times whether picking a highly quantitative degree was the right choice.

It’s Matthias’s voice, telling me to be kind to myself, that fills my head. Calc was hard, but I got a solid B. Statistics has just started, but my first quiz went well. It might be a little harder than I’m used to, but I’m doing it.

After Squeezy’s in park and I triple-check that the lights are all turned off, I make my way inside.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen my parents since the incident , as I’m referring to it.

Each time is awkward beyond belief. I’m not even sure what to say to them.

All I’ve told them is that I’m moving out, and because I’m a chicken, I did it over text message.

The sound of the TV hits me as soon as I let myself in. There’s no choice but to walk through the living room to get downstairs. A design flaw I’d really like to have a word with the architect about. I steel myself and push forward, anxious to be in my own space.

“Frank? That you?” I shake my head at my mom’s question. Who the fuck else would it be?

“Yes, I’m going to my room.” There’s no need to talk about this anymore. I don’t have anything to say, and they don’t have anything I want to listen to.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Make it quick. I’ve got work to do.” I step into the living room, keeping myself close to the stairs, ready to make an exit the minute this turns ugly.

It’s a strategy I’ve discussed with Matthias a few times.

He didn’t want me coming back here at all, insisting that he’d show up and grab all my things.

While I appreciate his protectiveness, I’m not afraid to be here.

Plus, there’s no way I’m letting him handle my packing.

I don’t want half the crap that’s down there since they’re remnants of my high school years.

I’d rather leave them behind as I start my new life with him.

“How are classes?” She twists her body on the couch so she can see me better.

“Fine.”

“Your father and I were talking, and maybe we were a little too hasty with asking you to move out.” I don’t answer. There’s more. There’s always more. “We could extend the timeline a bit. Maybe after you finish this semester, you can use the summer to look for a job.”

“Is this because I’m in school?”

“We didn’t know you were taking classes at night. That changes things.”

“What exactly does it change? You said that I shouldn’t be taking them, that they were worthless. Now you’re telling me that they’re the reason you want to give me a second chance. Which is it?”

“You’re doing so well this time.”

Yep, that’s it. It’s not because I’m taking them. It’s because, for the first time, my grades are decent. Something they can brag about. “I’m moving in with Matthias.”

“Oh, Frank. Are you sure? He’s so… much older than you.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” I spin and head down the stairs, not bothering to turn around when I hear my name. Once I’m inside, I lock the door. It’s not much since the little punch lock could be picked using a paperclip and minimal skill, but it still makes me feel safer.

Instead of wallowing, I grab my big suitcase and throw it open on my bed.

My closet is full of things I can’t wear anymore, mostly thanks to the muscle I’ve put on over the last few years.

I pull out the stuff I like, the things I wear regularly or at least have hopes of wearing regularly, and dump them on the bed.

The rest can stay where they are. Eventually, someone will come down and bag them up and send them off to the next church garage sale.

Maybe this time they’ll take the encyclopedias, too.

All ready for new lives. Fresh starts all the way around.