Page 5

Theo

With Mackenzie gone, I return to my desk and drop into my chair, already tired just thinking about the evening. I have a date with Ginny, which I managed after smoothing things over from our last mishap, but suddenly, I don’t feel like pretending to smile or laugh at things I don’t care about. Letting out a deep sigh, I pick up my phone and call her.

“Hey, Ginny,” I start, bracing myself for the reaction I know is coming. “I need to take a raincheck for tonight. Something came up at work.”

“Working late? On a Friday night?” Her voice is a whine, incredulous, and it grates on my nerves.

“Yeah,” I lie. I just can’t bear the thought of sitting through dinner with her. “My day got away from me.”

“I could come over, keep you company while you work.” The sultry undertone in her voice flashes into the image of her sitting between my legs, her head bobbing. “It’ll be fun.” Then she moves into baby talk.

That only cements my desire to be anywhere else. “Tempting,” I lie again, “but I think it’s a bad idea.”

I can almost hear the pout forming on her lips as she whines, trying to change my mind. But I stand firm and stop her with a clear, “I’ll call you when my schedule clears up.”

The moment I disconnect, I consider damage control—maybe have Natalie send Ginny some flowers? But I shake my head. Sending flowers would only fan flames I’m now intent on extinguishing.

Shifting gears, I dial another familiar number, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. “Mom,” I say, a smile breaking through as she answers with her usual warmth.

“Hello, sweetie,” she chimes, and I begin clearing the scattered reports off my desk, stacking them into their respective folders. “I managed to get a speeding ticket today. Can you believe it?”

“Really?” My chuckle is genuine. “How fast were you going?”

“Fast enough,” she teases. “That flashy red car you bought me must’ve caught his eye.”

“Hey, you look great driving that BMW,” I counter. “And let’s be honest, the RAV4 was costing more in repairs than it was worth.”

“Still, you spoil me too much,” she says, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Mom, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” She was a single mom who worked hard to make sure I had everything I needed—and more.

“What’s going on with you?” she asks.

I trace the edge of a stack of papers. “Mom, how do you deal with feeling…overwhelmed?”

A soft sigh travels through the line before she answers, “By remembering that I’m not alone in this, and you’re not either. Why do you ask? Is there news about Justin and Crystal? Is everything okay at the company?”

“It’s just…” I stop, trying to find the right words. “I can’t wait for Rhys to come back.”

“Justin being back would be nice too.” All of our moms know each other, and they feel for Gina, Justin’s mom. She and Justin were so close, and he’s not reached out to her since he disappeared.

“It would. But that’s been a worry for a while. Right now…” I exhale. “In the back of my mind, I feel like Rhys is not going to take the job back when he returns.”

“Why would you think that?”

I look out over the ribbon of lights crossing the Bay Bridge. “Being CEO feels like wearing a suit that’s three sizes too big. It’s awkward and hard to manage.”

“Then tailor it, sweetheart,” she advises. “You have the power to redefine your role, to make changes. You’re not trapped by the title.”

Her thoughts make sense, but if I tailor the role, the suit is even more likely to be permanently mine, I fear. And anyway, another issue pushes its way forward. “It’s more than the role, Mom. It’s…Mackenzie.” Saying her name aloud knots my stomach.

“Ah, she’s a strong woman. She wouldn’t be good at her job if she wasn’t.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Strong is one thing, but she challenges me at every turn. It’s exhausting.”

“Exhausting or refreshing?” There’s a knowing lilt to her voice that irks me. “You’re used to women who nod and smile, who melt at your every word. Mackenzie isn’t like them. She has a brain, and she uses it. That’s good for you.”

“Maybe.” I picture Mackenzie’s steady gaze in my mind. Mom’s words come back to me, and I feel something like respect but also a bit of frustration I can’t ignore.

“Listen to me,” Mom continues. “You thrive around people like her, people who challenge you. Not the ones who are after your money or your fame.”

Her words hit me hard. I know she’s right. I’ve always known. But saying it out loud means I have to face the truth about myself and the things I’ve been trying to ignore. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Not yet. “Thanks, Mom,” I tell her. “I’ll think about what you said.”

“Good. I love you, honey.”

“Love you too.”

I run a hand over the smooth surface of my desk, the mess now sorted into neat piles and folders, as Mom tells me a bit more about what’s going on in her life.

After a moment, my mind wanders. I’ve watched Mackenzie more times than I want to admit. She walks through the office with quiet confidence. She never talks about her famous father, and she doesn’t brag about the smart choice that helped her get a nice condo in the marina, far from downtown and even farther from where we work. The way she stays independent, never asking me for help—not even to grab lunch or when she needs a favor—bothers me. I’m not used to it. Like Mom said, most women want something from me.

But Mackenzie seems happy to keep a clear line between us, with no personal feelings or secret reasons. And it hurts, just a little, to know she doesn’t want anything more than a professional relationship from me.

Eventually, Mom winds down, saying she’s meeting a friend for dinner.

“I’ll come see you soon, okay?” I tell her. “Maybe we can take that sporty red car for a spin without getting another ticket.”

Her laugh comes through the phone. It always helps me feel a little less stressed inside. “You better. You owe me a proper visit. And bring your golf clubs. We’ll see if you can finally beat your old mom on the course.”

“Deal,” I promise. “Love you,” I tell her again.

“Love you too, honey. Take care of yourself.”

The call ends, and the quiet comes back. I get up from my chair to look at my calendar and consider when I can visit Mom.

I wander to the doorway and look out at Mackenzie’s empty desk. It’s clean and neat, the opposite of the mess in my head. Why do I keep upsetting her? Why do I keep trying to engage with her and make this into something it clearly isn’t?

My stomach twists with regret. It’s like I’m hooked on the way she looks at me when she’s angry, that spark in her eyes she’s never afraid to show. “Damn it…” I drag a hand through my hair.

She’s different. She doesn’t need me, and she doesn’t seem to care about my money. That truth drives me crazy, and I can’t stop thinking about it or her.

I scroll through my contacts until I find Phillip’s name. I tap on it, and the phone rings once before he answers. “Phillip, I’m ready to head out,” I tell him.

“Understood. I’m in the lobby. I’ll be right up.”

“Thanks.” I end the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket. Having someone I can count on makes life a little easier. It’s a small thing, but I really appreciate it.

As I wait for Phillip, my gaze lingers on Mackenzie’s desk a moment longer, a silent acknowledgement of the mess I’ve made that I’m not sure how to clean up.

True to his word, Phillip’s here within minutes.

“Evening.” He greets me as I step out of my office. “Where to next?”

“Let’s just call it a night,” I say. “I have a tee time at the Olympic Club tomorrow morning. Seven thirty. Can you pick me up at quarter to seven?”

“Of course. I’ll have the car ready.”

“Thanks.” I nod. It feels good to have something simple to look forward to, especially after such a long and complicated day.

We take the elevator down to the garage, and he drives me into San Francisco and to my building.

Phillip drops me in the garage, and instead of going upstairs to my condo, I stop at the lobby level and catch the concierge’s attention. He looks up, expectant.

“Simon,” I begin, “could you order me some General Tso’s chicken and fried rice from Lee’s? And make sure it’s spicy. I need something with a bit of a kick tonight.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Reed. Would you like it delivered to your penthouse?”

“That’d be great.” I give him a curt nod.

“Consider it done,” he responds with a smile.

“Thanks, Simon.” I head toward the elevator.

When the doors slide open at my penthouse, I step out into my home. My body feels tense, begging for release after a day of mental gymnastics. Without a second thought, I strip off my suit and pull on workout gear.

I set the treadmill to a three-percent incline, already feeling the pulse of adrenaline kicking in. My legs move in a steady rhythm that drowns out the day. I push myself hard, watching the numbers climb, three miles ticking away in less than eighteen minutes. Sweat beads on my forehead and rolls down my back. Perhaps I’m trying to outrun my own thoughts.

The chime of the elevator signals the arrival of my dinner. I slow the machine to a stop, chest heaving, and grab a towel to pat down the dampness clinging to my skin. When I reach the table in my entryway, I’m greeted by the rich, unmistakable scent of General Tso’s chicken and fried rice.

I carry the takeout containers to the living room and flop onto the couch. The television comes alive with the latest from TSN, a buzz of scores and highlights that fills the silence. My first bite sets my mouth ablaze, a searing pleasure that borders on pain, but I revel in it. The food is just as I ordered it—hot enough to light my taste buds on fire. Each mouthful is a little victory, a sensation that proves I’m alive and feeling.

As I reach the bottom of the container, I tear open the plastic around my fortune cookie, cracking it in half to reveal the slip of paper inside. Someone thinks of you more often than you realize . I can’t help but add the juvenile punchline in my head, in bed , and a smirk plays across my lips. Maybe Mackenzie thinks about me when she’s alone, remembering the night we shared. The idea makes my heart race.

After I’ve finished my dinner and caught up on all the scores, I step out to the balcony and watch a barge sail under the bridge. What would it feel like to be with Mackenzie again? That look in her eyes, the way she pushes back when we talk, that spark when we argue and somehow agree at the same time. There’s something powerful between us, and I think it’s more than just work frustration.

I realize I want to find out what it is, to see if we could forge a genuine connection without fake compliments or hidden reasons. With Mackenzie, I won’t have to pretend. I can just be myself, even if I’m not always the perfect billionaire people think I should be.

I step back from the railing. Maybe it’s time to stop making her angry and figure out what’s really between us.