“I like her,” my mum’s voice cut through our conversation. Our heads snapped to our intruder. She stood in the doorway, thinner than I remembered her, clutching a bright yellow purse and studying Celeste intently.
I strode over to my mother and scooped her up in my arms. She was clean, her skin glowing from within. She looked happy, and I was ecstatic to see her like this. “Mum, this is Celeste, my co-writer. Celeste, meet my mum.”
Celeste hopped down from her perch on my desk and reached out a hand to greet my mum. “Hi, Isaac told me you were coming.”
“I don’t shake hands, dear.” My mum crushed Celeste in her arms and squeezed her. Celeste peeked up at me over my mother’s embrace and smiled. Her hands wrapped around my mum’s waist warily, unsure, unfamiliar. Mum, for all her faults, was an affectionate and genuine soul. Celeste’s eyes closed briefly, and I thought she must be enjoying the prolonged embrace.
“Let me just get my things and we’ll go,” I said, leaving them to chit-chat.
My mother made a cooing sound, a little ooo that I thought would lead to talk about Celeste’s outfit. “Isaac didn’t tell me you were just his type.”
I whipped around so quickly, my neck could have snapped in half and I tripped a bit over the corner of my desk. “Okay mum, that’s enough,” I said, just a smidge too loudly. Celeste was a doe in headlights, she didn’t look at me, not even to laugh at the absurdity of mothers.
“What? I’m just saying she’s a pretty little thing. It’s a compliment,” my mum shamelessly darted her eyes back and forth between Celeste, who looked to her shoes, and me, who mouthed stop with a glare.
“Thanks,” Celeste tossed her fallen locks over her shoulder. “Where are you guys going?”
“I’ve started bike riding and I wanted to get some proper clothes and a helmet for that. And then I don’t know where my charming, very available, son is taking me.”
“We’re going to that place you like, with the lamb chops,” I answered. Celeste looked at me now, and I could see the shyness staining her cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me if you need.”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Enjoy your night.” She smiled at my mum with an expression I couldn’t identify.
“Maybe Celeste would like to join us,” my mum ventured shamelessly. I couldn’t interject and say no like an ass so the spotlight burned down on Celeste.
She backed away as if in front of a roaring hearth, hands up in a gesture that put space between her and everyone else. “Oh, no thank you. Maybe another time.” A nervous laugh.
Mum cocked her head to the side curiously and pressed on. “Are you in London all by yourself? You must get lonely. Come out with us, dear.”
“I have plans for tonight. I’m sorry.” Celeste gathered her laptop, pens, planner, books, and papers clumsily. Her hair getting in the way. She chuckled softly as she became more and more frustrated by the length falling in the way of her mad dash out of my office.
“Oh? With a boy?” My mum’s voice floated upwards.
I’d never experienced more panic looking for my keys in my lifetime.
Celeste looked like she wanted to dissolve into the floorboards. She was not alone in that.
“They’re on the cabinet,” Celeste pointed to them with her chin.
I grabbed my bloody keys, now painted in all different colors, and vowed I’d get a key hook and actually use it from now on.
“Mum, that’s none of our business,” I grabbed her hand to lead her out.
The picture of innocence continued, “I’m just asking. Us girls like to gossip.”
“Not this one. We keep our private lives out of the office.” I pulled on her hand but she let go of me entirely and stood her stubborn ground. “Sorry Celeste, my mother has lost her mind.” I gave a fake laugh. In fact, I was just one step below mortified. I was fairly certain Celeste had no idea I had a tiny, little, insignificant, easily squashed crush on her; and I would like my mother to stop planting the seed.
“I’m going out with friends. And yes, a boy.” Celeste indulged my mum’s curiosity. I felt it as a stab to my gut.
“I hope you have fun, dear.”
“You too,” Celeste’s saccharine smile lingered as we walked out. While my mum got in the car, I texted Celeste quickly.
Sorry about my mum. You know how mothers can be. haha.
She replied instantly. Don’t worry about it. She seems really sweet.
“Mum, did you have to do that?” I snapped.
“I wouldn’t be your mother if I didn’t meddle. Am I wrong? Isn’t she just your type?”
“She’s my co-worker and she just got jilted at the altar a month ago. She is zero percent interested in dating and I am zero percent interested in dating within the office.”
We went silent while I drove for a bit, letting the information sink in. I hadn’t said I wasn’t interested in dating her. The fact lingered between us.
Then my mum, unable to shut up replied, “But if she wasn’t…”
“No, mum. There’s nothing there, and never will be. Drop it, please. It’s making my skin crawl.”
“What happened at the altar?”
I gave her the synopsis and she gasped. “That’s awful. In front of everyone? Good for her, though. A weaker woman would have stayed.”
“Yeah, which made your little scene all the more awkward for us. She doesn’t talk about her life. I found all this out from Michael.”
“You should have told me before!”
This woman had brought nothing to visit besides the audacity. “You shouldn’t be trying to set me up with every girl within ten kilometers."
“It’s just been a while since you’ve dated anyone. What was the last one, Sierra?”
“Mum, I’m fine. I’m busy with work, and I’m not lonely. That’s all I’m saying.” Sierra and I had been mad for each other—I even thought about proposing. But we were also all wrong for each other. We were possessive, volatile, and she was emotionally manipulative. I, well, I didn’t see it for years. She withheld sex or affection when I worked too much or irritated her in any way. And I did the same. We weren’t mature enough to be forever locked together. I broke it off and broke her heart.
Mum gave me an exasperated sigh. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” I patted her hand. I wasn’t lying. I was happy. Sierra had taught me what was healthy and what was not in a relationship. She taught me that I had a string of unhealthy relationships, a pattern of immature girlfriends who matched my immature way of loving.
Since Sierra, perhaps as a punishment for breaking her heart, I hadn’t found anyone I could be in a relationship with. The second I saw a red flag, I ended things. I wasn’t particularly looking, anyway, preferring my current situation-ships to warm my bed when necessary. I saw nothing wrong with the casual sex I had over the past three years. But my mum’s silent plea twisted my stomach.
Mum filled me in on all my hometown gossip while we shopped. The farm was doing fine, we had a few new sheep in our flock, the chicks were doing well. Some of my secondary schoolmates were getting married. Someone was caught cheating at the local restaurant. What an idiot, why would you cheat in a small town at one of the only restaurants? Dumbass.
“Thank you for this.” My mum squeezed me at the end of the night. I fluffed the pillows of my bed and pulled back the comforter for her. “I don’t have anyone to celebrate these things with.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I held her chubby cheeks in my hands. Her eyes glistened. “I mean it.”
“I wish I had gotten sober when you were a boy. You deserved better.” Her voice trembled. We’d played this scene many times in the past year. Since she had really committed to sobriety.
“Stop that, Mum. It’s happened. Granny took good care of me. You did the best you could.”
“I didn’t do the best I could. I drank all the time and lost custody.”
I kissed her forehead as she wept. “You can’
t think like that. Look, I’m fine. We’re fine. You’re sober. Everything’s fine.”
“I like to think that, Isaac, I really do.” The pain in her was palpable. I once hated her. I once wished she’d just leave my life forever. The awful terrible things I screamed at her when I was a teen haunted me in moments like this. The despicable things I said when she relapsed when I was an adult, were even worse.
I smoothed her hair back. “I wasn’t perfect either. We’re both different now.”
“I sometimes think I screwed you up so badly…” she sobbed.
“I’m not screwed up,” I reassured her.
“Don’t hold people at arm's length. Please, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but…” her voice trailed I knew exactly what she meant as she wiped her tears. The image of Celeste perched on her little chair in the sun flashed in my memory.
“We both need to work on that.” I forced a chuckle.
“One day, you’re going to find someone who isn’t like me at all.” She said quietly.
“And what about you?” I asked. My mum had a long string of toxic relationships behind her. She hadn’t dated for years now, which saved her sobriety. But I could see how she was projecting her loneliness on me. “Maybe now that you’re sober, you should give dating a go.”
“Oh, no one wants an old bag with baggage, dear.”
I kissed her forehead and tucked her in, the way I’d longed for her to tuck me in when I was a kid. Maybe she did screw me up when I was younger. A therapist would say that my history of loveless sex, and toxic romance riddled with trust issues, was directly related to my mommy issues. My relationship with Sierra was all of those things. However, reuniting with my mum, learning to forgive her, growing a relationship from hatred to love taught me how to be a man. My mum, for all of our fucked-up history, she taught me grace, and forgiveness, and loyalty. Repairing our relationship and creating this affectionate bond we had now, it taught me I deserved to be treated a certain way and that the women in my life also deserved to be treated that way as well.
Respect.
My mother taught me respect.
I sat at my kitchen island with a cup of tea and opened my laptop. Celeste’s notes stared at me. I tried reading them on the screen and found my eyes jumping back and forth over the same words. The words blurred a bit, and I reread the sentence, my eyes skipping over entire syllables. My dyslexia was worse when I was tired, so I enlarged the print and sent it to my printer. I made myself a little nest in my living room, took my notes to the sofa and tried again.
I was reading the words, but my mind was elsewhere. Celeste was out with a boy. I rolled my eyes.
Russian military budget spending… my mind wandered again.
The fuck did that mean? Going out with friends and a boy? Was she being set up? Could she possibly be over her ex already? Wasn’t her ex a set-up too?
I rubbed my eyes. The words were drifting across the page. This late at night after hours of reading, and a few glasses of wine… this was useless. I grabbed my bookmark and placed it laterally across the page, how I’d learned in grade school.
Russian military budget spending exceeded…
No way she was completely over her ex already. How long had they known each other again? Wasn’t it like ten years?
No. Stop.
Military getbut Russian spending exceeded…
Russian budget for military speeded exceeding…
Russian. Military. Spending. Budget. Exceeded.
Bloody fuck.
It was ten o’clock. I pulled out my phone, passing it between each hand. I opened and closed seventeen apps… it was going to be sunny tomorrow, nothing interesting on social media, no updates in my notes from Celeste, a meeting tomorrow at ten… I opened my text messages. I paused… it was too late to text her. Yet, my fingers had other plans. Just one quick text.
Just got back. Thanks for the notes. I’ll read them tomorrow.
I could have emailed that. But my computer was in the kitchen.
Ten paces away.
My phone lit up.
You’re welcome. Hope you had fun with your mom!
I wrote back, Hope you had fun with your friends… and the boy, lol.
I lied. It was just me, Kieran, and her boyfriend.
That’s brilliant. My mum doesn’t understand boundaries.
She seems super sweet.
She’s great.
Silence. I noticed that my heart was beating out of my chest, my fingers tingling, waiting for a response. Perhaps she was with another man. I had no way of knowing. But she was texting me.
I’m her boss. She has to text me back. My phone lit up in my palms. I felt an immediate rush of adrenaline. She was keeping the conversation going. She might be naked with another man, but she was choosing to talk to me.
My mom has no boundaries either, so… I get it.
More likely she was in bed alone. She seemed like the type to have matching pajama sets. Rainbow colored happy sets with cute things on them like flowers or avocados. I typed and deleted and retyped a hundred different messages.
It’s late, sorry. I’ll let you get to sleep. I hated myself.
Don’t be. I usually stay up past midnight. I’m almost done with the last book you gave me.
Will you finish tonight?
Probably. But this last chapter is dragging.
You can skip it. It’s not important.
Thanks for letting me know now and not an hour ago when I started. An eye-roll emoji followed. I grinned at the flirtation.
Sorry, you didn't ask.
Is mom leaving tomorrow or staying the weekend?
Was she keeping the conversation going, or was I?
She’s leaving in the morning. We live about two hours north, so she’s got to catch the train for work.
Does that mean you’ll be on time? A laughing emoji with tears followed.
I guess we’ll find out. I sent her an eye roll.
I wanted the conversation to keep going. Thought of fifteen ways to stop it from dying into the night, but I stopped myself. It was late, and I wasn't thinking straight. Celeste was very likely wishing the conversation would end, while I was there, stomach fluttering, wanting her. I could be reading everything all wrong. I scanned our conversation again, making sure I was re-reading carefully.
There was nothing improper, at least. I left the conversation open, and returned to her notes. Who was I trying to impress? I couldn’t read right then. Not with the images of her tucked into her bed reading, book in hand, glasses down her nose. I shut off the lights and laid down to sleep.
My phone lit up and I almost broke the screen when I grabbed it from the coffee table and it slipped from my hands, plummeting to the floor. After fumbling in the dark for it, I found it under the couch, the screen still bright. Without checking the home screen, I swiped up and my calendar opened. Not my text messages.
New appointment added to Calendar.
It was too late for me to deny that I was disappointed.
A smile crept to my lips, though. Celeste had added a nine a.m. appointment. She labeled it “Read notes because it’s past Isaac’s bedtime.”
I added my own appointment, “Be late to work so Celeste has to read them out loud to me.”
She edited my appointment. “Bring lemon scone to apologize for being late.”
I erased all our appointments and created a new one. “Meet at coffee shop for scones, notes, and coffee.” I set it for eight-thirty.
My texts lit up. You better not stand me up because it’s your turn to pay.
I let the conversation end there. The temptation to flirt was too much and I knew myself well enough to set the phone down and shut up. I was one back-and-forth away from veering off into the indecent and without her in front of me to gauge her reaction, I wouldn’t dare.
CHAPTER 12
Celeste
I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Isaac and I had taken trips to the coffee shop to read notes
before. I’d go so far as to call it another one of our rituals at this point, reserved for when he became restless in our office. He said the silence and quiet would sometimes worsen his focus, that a change of scenery was needed. Since we both loved this little shop, we always ended up here.
Maybe my nerves were acting up because it was outside of work hours. Or because I was pretty certain I was going to be stood up. He’d been on time… maybe what…five times since I’d gotten to London. And that was giving a generous five-minute window.
It was a sunny Friday morning, the air a little crisp and nipping at my legs. The bright red fabric of my favorite fifties circle shirt swished between and behind my legs. I’d taken my navy t-strap heels out of hiding. I paired the bright skirt with a plain white silk sleeveless top, my string of fake pearls bouncing against my chest as I pulled the door open.
The delicious smell of coffee and buttery sweets made my mouth water immediately. If I was going to get fat and happy it would be at the expense of this place. No regrets.
To my absolute shock, Isaac was already there, sitting at our usual corner table. He was wearing his glasses, so at least he had struggled to be on time. He hadn’t shaved, though, his light stubble revealing it’d been a few days. He was one of the rare breeds that looked good whether he was clean shaven and showing off his chiseled jaw, or had a scruffy shadow framing his face. He grew his beard and shaved it randomly, without rhyme or reason, I thought he looked sexy both ways. Even though I usually hated facial hair on men.
He was wearing a blue button-down and those gray slacks that made my eyes wander. His sleeves were rolled up and the top button of his shirt was undone. His black belt hugged his waist and pulled together the outfit. I slipped into the seat across from him and he smiled at me, flagging down the barista.
“That’s a new skirt.” He greeted me.
“I’ve had it forever,” I shrugged. Fluffing the skirt over my knees and crossing my ankles.
“It suits you. You look lovely.” The compliment caught me off guard and I faltered, unable to even say thanks.
The barista appeared and dropped two scones and two coffees in front of us. She offered sugar and Isaac waved it away, knowing neither of us took sugar in our cappuccino. “Some cinnamon, though, please.” He flashed her a debonair smile and she melted in his gaze. He had that effect on women.
See You Monday: An Office Romance (Weekday series Book 1) Page 9
