Page 10 of The Boss on the Brain

I texted him back with a guilty smile on my face.

Ava:It was delicious. At least the one bite of it I ate. I’m glad you were there tonight.

Desmond:It was good seeing you again. Let’s stay in touch.

Putting my phone away, I pushed through the front doors and was met with the familiar sights of steel tables, the aroma of food. Mrs. Wilson was behind the counter, where she was ladling out chili to a slow-moving line of people.

I walked to the kitchen, where there was a pile of dishes waiting to be cleaned. My regular evening began now, I realized, amused by Desmond’s last text message.

I’d never meet him again.

3

DESMOND

When Stan, my driver, dropped me off outside The Regal—the boutique residential building where I lived—Tim, the doorman, hurried over, looking apologetic.

“Is it Brody?” I asked, grinning at him, even before he had a chance to speak.

He nodded. “He said the sink needed fixing.”

Brody was my twenty-two-year-old cousin. Growing up, he’d lived a few streets across from me and I considered him my true brother. His parents—my uncle and aunt—had taken me in after my mom’s death in high school, but we had been close well before that, meeting each other every other week for a game of football. Like most siblings I knew, we were opposites in many ways.

Tim looked concerned. “Concierge could fix the sink for you, you know. We have an in-house plumber and electrician. In case anything breaks down next time.”

I grinned. “I didn’t even know that my sink was leaking, Tim,” I said. “I’m surprised Brody does.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He nodded understandinglyas I shut the car door, and we walked over to the front doors. “In that case, let me know if there’s anything else we can do for you. Have a good day, sir.”

I nodded as he opened the door for me.

“I will. Thank you, Tim,” I said as the door fell shut behind me.

It had been three days since I’d seen Ava, but I hadn’t heard a word from her after our last text the night of her date. I wanted to text her. If only I could come up with a reasonable excuse to do so.

In a minute, I took the elevator up to the penthouse suite, and when I walked in, Betsy, my house manager, walked up to me with a smile.

“Brody—”

“Is here,” I said, dropping my briefcase on the side table and taking my coat off.

I hung my coat up on the rack next to Betsy’s blue peacoat and a now-faded ginger-colored gingham jacket. My gaze lingered on that a little bit and on the pink snow cap that rested on the hook.

As she picked up her coat, ready to leave, I smelled the sweet notes of butternut squash in the air.

“Did you make soup?” I asked her.

She nodded at me. “And there’s risotto too. If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

“That’s wonderful, Betsy. I need nothing else, thank you. What’s Brody fixing now?”

She grinned as she got into the elevator. “The sink faucet, and he insists there’s a leak underneath the sink as well.” She lowered her voice. “I haven’t seen a single drop of water leak though.”

I nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Are you seeing your granddaughter this weekend?”

She beamed. “She’s coming over for the entire weekend.”

“Have fun.” I smiled as the doors closed.