The Personal Assistant (6 page)

Caleb’s tall, broad frame stands at the doorway, the light bouncing off his perfect face.

"Fuck," I say, then whisper, "What's he doing here?"

Betty sees him, "Raise your menus folks."

They all grab something to hide me, including menus and placemats, but I feel the moment his eyes find mine—almost before I see their red-rimmed blueness.

And one long stride after another, he marches straight to our table.

To me he says, "Emma, I found you."

My voice is cracked. "Yes, Caleb, you did."

Betty looks at me, then at Caleb, then back at me, and squeezes my hand.

"Nothing is the same without you around. I need you back. I need you. Is there somewhere we can talk?" he states.

His strong body and square jaw do little to hide his vulnerability.

Caleb Hawksley never has to beg for anything, yet here he is.

Perhaps the new girl isn't up to scratch?

If only he wanted the same as me.

If only he wanted me as a woman and not as his damn housekeeper.

"What do you want, Caleb? Can't you see I'm busy? I’m about to be served the best Chicken Chow Mein in the city. It would have to be mighty important to disturb me from that."

"Can we go somewhere private?" He glimpses my friends, and with pleading eyes and a quiet voice he says to me, "Somewhere we can talk?"

“Talk?”

“Yes, Em. Talk.”

The nerve - things aren't working out with his new housekeeper so he thinks he can track me down and order me around?

"I don’t work for you anymore Caleb. You have a new housekeeper. If you have anything you want to say you can just as easily say it here. These people are all my friends.”

I can't be his employee, not anymore.

It isn't enough.

He frowns, runs a hand back through his hair, and licks his lips, "Okay, I will."

The restaurant isn't full, but those who were eating and minding their own business are now more interested in the handsome, well-dressed man bothering a table of people than in their own food. "So say it?"

He snaps his knuckles, which is something he stopped doing years ago. "I miss you. There, I said it."

Yep, he wants me back as his freaking maid.

"You miss me looking after your every need more like it. The agency sent you my replacement. If she's not good enough, get someone else or train her better. The running of your house is no longer my problem, remember? I quit. I don’t want to work for someone like you anymore Caleb. My life is taking a new path."

"The new housekeeper is fine, that's not it."

Oh?

I'm suddenly jealous that I've been so easily replaced.

"I mean, she's not you, but she gets the job done. She doesn’t understand me, but she cleans well."

So…

"What are you talking about then?" I ask, full of hope.

"I miss
you
, not your domestic professionalism," he shrugs, "I miss how you make me laugh no matter what time it is or how grumpy I am. I miss how you keep my feet on the ground, with your don't-mess-with-me attitude. I miss how you laugh at my faults, and how you were always there to make me see what's important."

Everyone in the restaurant is gripped, and the tension is palpable because I have no words to break it.

I can’t think of any words to say.

This is not what I expected.

"Lately it feels like the sun turned cold, and we live in LA."

Everyone stares at me, waiting for my reaction.

All I can say at first is, "Oh."

The truth of things dawns on me slowly, like his words take a moment to melt beneath my skin.

Is he talking about friendship?

Does he want to catch up for coffee?

"What exactly do you want from me, Caleb? Our noodles are getting cold."

He holds his arms out towards me, "You…Man, you don't make this easy, do you?"

Betty butts in, "Why should she? You let her down already. Maybe you don't deserve a second chance."

"Yes," he says, looking at my pal and wincing at the memory. "You're right. I was such an idiot." He rakes his hands back through his hair, "I did ask you to the ball last minute, and I did ask you because Demi let me down."

Everyone at my table groans in unison, including me.

"But…" he raises his hands in surrender, fear behind his eyes, "Once I did ask you, I thought about how it might be with you at one of those stuffy functions instead of one of my usual dates. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why the hell I didn't ask you sooner."

The unison groan and scowl become a unison wide-eyed stare.

"Each moment I grew more and more excited about showing you off to my friends and colleagues, and yeah, to Demi and any other women who I'd either dated before or who wanted to date me. Enjoying your easy, genuine company was always a breath of fresh air for me, and I couldn't wait to be with you. By the time I got home from work I could barely keep my hands off you and well, I don't know about you, but what happened between us then just…blew my mind."

Oh. My.

"It did?"

My friends continue with their sound effects, adding a unison gasp to the proceedings.

"Wow. That's some explanation, Em," says Betty, staring up at Caleb.

The rest agree and all say, "Yeah!"

James adds, "I couldn't think of a better explanation, and I've had to think up quite a few in the past."

Betty scowls and elbows him. "We'll talk about that comment later."

"See what I mean?" James says to Caleb.

Caleb smiles politely at them both, in thanks for their support no doubt. Then he asks me, "So, will you?"

"Will I what?"

"What do you think, Emma?"

"Now's not the time for being cryptic, Caleb."

My body is shaking. I'm so glad to be seated.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake, woman," he pleads. "I want you in my life. Now. Starting as soon as you step from around that damned table."

My heart leaps up into my mouth as his words leave his mouth. Betty says, "Holy shit," and squeezes my hand so tight, no blood can reach my fingertips.

The rest of my group is silent, as if even their breathing might ruin this moment between me and Caleb.

Then, just as I dare to believe the pain of losing him can end for good, I remember why we can't be happy together.

"Oh, Caleb. Incredible as all this sounds, you and I don't live in the same world. We found out to my cost that I don't fit in yours. How can we share a life together?"

Betty pinches the back of my hand, and when I snatch it away in pain and glare at her, she grimaces at me.

"Stop judging me." I tell her, "You don't understand."

"I know when two people should be together and when my friend's being a stubborn dumbass."

"What?"

James and the rest of our pals gasp or giggle.

Caleb says, "See? She gets it."

"No, she doesn't and neither do you, unfortunately, Caleb."

"So explain it to me, because to me it's simple."

"To put it purely, you want everything money can buy, and I want everything it cannot."

Betty and James are watching our conversation like you might watch a game of tennis, watching the point fly from one racket to the other.

"A guy can change his mind, can't he?" Caleb insists. "Maybe this guy grew up? Maybe he gets what's important now?"

Let’s see how much, "So you agree your world sucks?"

He grins, "See, right there…" Excited, he points at my face. "That's what you are."

I touch my face, everyone glaring at me, imagining a stray noodle hanging from my chin, "What?"

"I miss it so badly—your honesty, which I admit can be brutal."

"Ah."

Okay, no noodle.

"You can't help but be honest with me, with anyone. I never had much of it growing up, and I can count on one hand how many people are honest with me now. Most want to please me so badly they become diluted versions of themselves to fit into what they think I am. You never did that, which is why you hate my world."

"So you see my problem? How can we—"

"Because we have a real chance here, Em." He offers me his hand, reaching over the table, his arm stretching between Beth’s and Ellie’s heads, "And because I see we have a third choice…"

"What third choice?” There's your world or mine. And I don’t fit into your world, nor do I ever want to," I say, staring at his hand, wanting so much to take hold of it.

"Let me take you on a date, and I'll show you. It's all planned. Say yes, and take my hand. Take a chance on me, Em."

Tiny insect wings flutter in my chest. I turn to Betty frowning, silently asking her advice, but knowing what she'll say.

"Get your sweet, perky ass out of here," Betty releases my hand allowing blood to rush to my extremities, igniting pins and needles. "You've been a royal misery since you guys fell out. He's right, listen to him. Go work it out already. Shoo."

Ellie adds, "Yeah. Get out of here. Take a chance, Em."

The rest of the group join in insisting I give Caleb another chance. I so want to, but the memory of my humiliation still hurts.

Still I try to ignore it.

"Go now," adds James, seeing me dither. "Or you know what conversation's next—and it won't be about soccer balls."

"Ah," yeah, discussing Caleb's balls might be a step too far at this fragile stage. "Hold that conversation till we're gone or I'll break your balls."

James winces and Caleb sniggers at me.

Aware of the huge grin now swallowing up my face and a fine sweat across my forehead, while all my friends tell me again to go for it.

When even strangers in the restaurant and the waiters join in, I begin to think I'm being stubborn if I don't at least try.

"Well, okay," I peer at Caleb. "Seems you won everyone's support, so I'll come on this date. I’ll take a chance, Caleb. But be warned, I won't go anywhere you would normally go. No gala balls or glamorous girls, alright?"

"I absolutely would not normally, nor have I ever been to where we're going," his wicked grin entices me, "I promise."

"No stopping off at Gucci shop on the way?”

“Nope.”

“No champagne in the back of a limo?”

“No.”

“Demi won't be there?"

"No, no, oh come on," he laughs.

Damn, he looks good.

He's smiling fully now, looks relaxed even.

And he's saying all the right things.

Please let this be the right move for both of us.

I look at his hand, place my palm against his, imagining two hearts joining, and gulp, "Well, looks like you're getting another chance."

I step around the table and he scoops me up into his arms, several feet off the floor to the sound of applause.

He leans in to kiss me, but I stop him and say, "Don't blow it this time, I mean it."

"Not a chance."

He kisses me right there in front of around thirty clicking smart phones flashing from every corner of the room.

After the blessed kiss, he offers me the biggest smile.

I don't remember ever seeing him wear such a beaming expression, and it's all for me.

When he carries me outside the restaurant, with the sound of my friends clapping and jeering at our backs, he puts me down on my shuddering legs.

Placing one sweaty hand in his, I look around for his driver, or his car.

I never expected to find what I did.

He clicks the button on his key fob and the small, pale blue car in front of us, beep-beeps.

Caleb grins at me, wearing a proud look when I glimpse up at him, "So, what do you think?"

"That's yours? This? Where's your limo? Your Porsche? Your Aston Martin?"

"Thought you'd prefer something a little more… low key, so I got this inconspicuous run-around."

"It's a Fiat, Caleb. It might be inconspicuous if we lived in France or Italy, but here, not so much."

He mopes like a child who didn't get anything from the tooth fairy. "Oh, you don't like it?"

"I love it, are you crazy?" It would be my dream car. It's cute, classy, small, and economical to run. "But it's not you. I don't want you to become a watered-down version of yourself to please me."

"I'm far too arrogant to be a watered-down version of anything." He takes my face between his hands and stares deep into my eyes, "You are very much me, even if you had to leave for me to realize how much."

The blood rushes to my cheeks, leaving me giddy, "I am? You did?"

Betty taps the restaurant window from the inside and as we turn instinctively to see what caused the noise, we see face upon face of grinning observers and well-wishers.

"Yes and yes." He nods to our audience, "Should we make a run for it before they spill out on to the street and start cheering?"

"Sounds like a plan." I say, almost hypnotized by the magic of it all, and his full pout and shiny white, toothy smile. I so badly want to feel his tongue against mine.

He leans down and I think he's going to kiss me.

On my tiptoes, holding my breath, I wait for his kiss.

Instead, he says, "Go climb in." The key fob is pushed into my hand before he steps around the car. "You're driving."

A little disappointed but mostly confused, I ask, "Me?"

He drives fast sports cars or is driven by a professional in deluxe limousines.

I don't think he's even seen me drive since I got my license two years ago.

"Problem?" Caleb asks, opening the door for me from the inside and popping his head out.

"Um, no. Guess not." Key fob in hand, I climb in and start her up.

The radio comes on a little loud so I turn it down.

The station plays ‘I'm Not in Love' by 10cc and makes me smile.

The scent of new leather and plastic screams new car, though I'd never sat behind the wheel of one before.

It's compact but beautiful.

Caleb's legs are so long they're cramped, and he's had to push the seats back as far as they will go to fit in.

I readjust the driver's seat for my comfort and say, "Oh look, you should have bought yourself something a little bigger. When will you ever use this again? Now that you've made your point that you can do average, that is."

"Ah, don't be mad." He bites his lip and my body tenses. "I thought you could drive this one if I'm honest. I know you hate the limo and my sports cars are too flashy, and you don't have your own car yet, so…"

"Caleb, no." I'm not a whore for hire or one of his gold-diggers. "Don't try to buy me. I thought you knew me better than that?"

"Buy you? You think I'm buying you?" He appears genuinely upset, and I regret my insinuation immediately. "This was a freebie I got last week during a business deal. Make you feel better?"

"Well I…"

"This means nothing more to them than a small bonus, and nothing at all to me. In fact, I usually donate these bonuses to a charity or something, but I knew it would be perfect for you."

Oh, I never knew about bonuses and donations.

"I want you to be able to come and go from my place as you please, and without having to rely on my car, or me. Am I so awful now? Don't I know you?"

His stare is intense, his gait open and aimed at me, as difficult as it is for him to maneuver himself.

The love of my life is offering himself to me.

I kind of growl, "If we weren't parked up outside a restaurant on a busy street, I'd find some way to christen this car right now."

Like magic, his grin springs back in place, and my heart fills with a rapture I can't begin to explain.

It reminded me of a bird I saw once.

It broke away from his flock, which flapped their wings frantically as one. My bird flew off in the opposite direction, climbing higher and higher, fearless like a daredevil, and I admired him for going off alone.

But when he stopped flapping his wings and began to fall, I panicked for him, until he spread his wings and began to glide through clouds across the sky. It was as if the blue and white expanse somehow captured him with invisible strings and, full of envy, I longed to know how my bird felt up there, surrounded by peace, embraced by gravity.

When I look into Caleb's eyes, I think I understand exactly.

He is my peace, my gravity. "Okay." I swallow a deluge of emotion, "So, where are we going in my new car?"

"The fairground."

“The fairground? Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you even know where that is?”

“Nope, but I’ve had my personal assistant send me the directions.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you enjoy.”

“You actually listened to me?”

He nods, “More than you would ever believe.”