A Hand to Hold

Chapter six

~ Natalie

- little over a year later…

*

Fourteen and a half fulfilling months had passed since I began working at OCE. In the time I’d worked with Ronan Ó Ceallaigh, he’d grown the company to new heights. He'd succeeded in starting his private airline and recently purchased the entire building in which his office was located. When I began the job, he only owned the top three floors. He now owned everything down to the parking garage, leasing out most of the lower floors and turning a healthy profit.

*

Candace had given birth to an adorable baby boy she named Graham. She visited the office from time to time. I believed her purpose in doing so was to check in on Mr. Ó Ceallaigh. We had lunch together, just the three of us; me, Candace, and baby Graham. I didn’t have any experience with babies, but he was an absolute sweetheart.

*

John Herrington was no longer in the picture at OCE. When a woman he had slept with came forward, claiming he was the father of her twins, his entire world turned upside down. He fought with her the entire pregnancy, but once the babies were born, and it was determined he was indeed the father, he really stepped up. He sold his share of the company to Mr. Ó Ceallaigh, and last I heard, he was living quite happily with his babies and their mother in upstate New York. No one could have predicted such a settled lifestyle for John.

*

Sadly, Katrina had also moved away. After John decided to leave, he offered to find her a similar position with one of his many contacts in the city, but it was at that time Jackson chose to end their relationship out of the blue. The break up blindsided Trina and left her completely heartbroken. She decided to start fresh and moved back home to Vermont. We texted nearly every day and Skyped every week, but I missed her like crazy.

*

I still lived in the same little hole in the wall. Other financial priorities kept popping up. After my first paycheck, I set a bit of money aside for a rainy day, but I also put three hundred dollars in an envelope, which I sent to Greg at the diner with a note:

I found a job worthy of me. Thanks for everything. Take care of yourself. ~ Nat.

*

Other things that had not changed included my relationship status. I had a few dates here and there, but nothing that ever gained momentum. Trina claimed I was too picky, and maybe that was true. But I knew what I wanted… and what I didn’t. It’s not as though I sought some fairytale prince. I merely wanted an equal. A partner. A friend. Not a man who’d control me and not a man who’d fall at my feet.

Was that really considered being too picky? Was it really all that rare to find a man who could take control when needed, but not BE controlling? Rare or not, that was my dream and I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

*

If it hadn’t been for my Uncle Brian, I’d be convinced such a man didn’t exist. But recently, I began to wonder if perhaps he was one in a billion; the exception to the rule. For five years I’d been fortunate to witness the beauty of a loving and stable couple, before my uncle passed away. That experience was enough for me to cling to the hope such happiness was possible for me too— with the right man at least. Only, guys never stuck around long enough for me to determine if they were the right one, which I suppose was proof they were not. Once they found out I had certain standards, they were gone. Clearly, I wasn’t worth the effort.

*

Call me old-fashioned, but I didn’t want to lose my virginity to just anybody. It’s not as though I was waiting for marriage, or even a proposal, I simply wanted to be in love before I shared my bed and my lady parts. Did that make me stingy with my v-card? According to all the men I’d dated, yes. Yes, it did. But I wasn’t bothered. I was perfectly content with my life choices. Even if said choices meant being a twenty-three-year-old virgin, who occasionally fantasized about her handsome boss.

*

My thoughts drifted to Ronan Ó Ceallaigh. My boss would be the best and the worst person to lose my virginity to. No doubt he knew how to please the female body thoroughly, and the results would be earth-shattering, but therein lie the high probability that a night with him would ruin any future experience with other men by comparison. On top of that, he never repeated a performance. Candace claimed his aversion to relationships was not due to fear of commitment but rather the fact he was already committed— to OCE. His career filled the role of wife and he was completely devoted. End of story. I released a sigh as well as the fantasy of ever being with Ronan Ó Ceallaigh.

*

When my alarm sounded, I immediately got out of bed and began my morning routine, putting a little extra effort into my appearance. Though he didn’t know I was aware, it was Mr. Ó Ceallaigh’s birthday. Despite having the excuse to take things easy, he’d scheduled meetings throughout the city all day. On the upside, that meant not only would I get a five-star lunch on my boss’ dime, but I’d also have the pleasure of riding in his Rolls Royce. Man, I loved that car.

*

Once completely put together, in my favorite lacy top tucked into my navy-blue pencil skirt, I grabbed my purse and locked up my apartment. Out in the parking lot, I tossed my long hair over my shoulder and rummaged through my bag, looking for my favorite sunglasses. I fished them out as I reached my black Corolla, which was five years old when I bought it three years ago. It may not have been much to look at, but it never let me down. I left my complex with plenty of time for an essential detour before work.

*

I parked alongside the street in front of Bob’s Bakery. Located in an old patched-up building, the shop was a little out of my way but worth the trek for the best lemon-blueberry scones in the city. Which so happened to be Mr. Ó Ceallaigh’s favorite.

*

Upon leaving the bakery, my phone rang. I dug it out of my purse as I maneuvered into my car. “Hey, Aunt Mel,” I greeted. My aunt’s voice was tinged with worry as she responded, “Natalie, honey, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Is everything alright? You never call this early.”

“Did you get the package that I sent?” My palm slapped my forehead in frustration. “Ugh, yes! I’m so sorry I forgot to call.” With an audible sigh of relief, she replied, “That’s okay, honey. I understand you’re busy. I was just afraid it might have gotten lost in the mail.”

“No, I got it. Thank you so much, Aunt Mel. I love it,” I expressed as I played with the pendant around my neck.

“I’m glad. I’m sorry it took so long for you to get your mother’s necklace. As I mentioned in my note, I’d planned to pass it along on your sixteenth birthday, but I put it in my deposit box for safe-keeping and completely forgot.”

“It’s alright. I’m just happy to have it now.” I checked the time on the dash and said, “Listen, I’m sorry, but I gotta run or I’ll be late for work.”

“Of course. Love you, hon!”

“Love you too!” I hung up the phone and drove to work.

*

When I stepped out of the private elevator and into my workspace, I noticed the door to my boss’ office was slightly open. He was early again. He’d also stayed behind after I went home most evenings, giving the impression that he lived there. I shed my grey wool trench coat and the ivory scarf I’d knitted myself. With the bakery bag in hand, I entered Mr. Ó Ceallaigh’s office.

*

I found my boss standing in front of his desk, deep in concentration over the open folder in his hands. “Good morning, Natalie,” he said without looking up at my approach. After over a year of working for him, I still appreciated the euphoniousness of my name in his subtle Irish accent. “I see you finally got a haircut,” I responded. The sides and back of his head had been clipped short, but a bit of his natural wave had been preserved in length on top, wafting from one side to the other. I was happy to see his short beard was left untouched. “Yes, it was due, don’t you think?” he mused.

“More like overdue.” He looked at me with raised brows, and I clarified, “I mean… it suits you.”

*

I smiled broadly at Mr. Ó Ceallaigh as though it were my birthday. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion of my giddy expression. “You look like a kid on Christmas morning.” I presented the bag from behind my back and exclaimed, “Happy Birthday!”

*

He closed the folder, tossing it onto the desk as he said, “How did you know?”

“I wouldn’t be a very good personal assistant if I didn’t know my boss’ birthday,” I answered. He accepted his gift but simply stared at the bag like a foreign object. “What I don’t know,” I continued, “is why you don’t celebrate.” His cobalt eyes locked on mine as he sighed and said, “If I tell you, do you promise not to make a big deal about it?”

“I’ll do my best,” I answered honestly.

*

Mr. Ó Ceallaigh made himself comfortable at the far end of the sofa while I balanced on the arm. When he looked up at me, he said, “I don’t celebrate the day I was born… because it was the same day my mother died.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Now you understand why I’d rather not recognize the day.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” I said, gesturing to the unopened bag in his hands, “it’s just a pastry.” He smiled, understanding I was honoring his wishes not to talk about his mother’s death. “It’s perfect, Natalie. Thank you.” He opened the bag and smiled again. “My favorite. Please sit and share this with me.”

“Only if you insist.”

“I insist.”

*

We polished off the pastry in comfortable silence. When we finished, my boss observed me questioningly and said, “Did you get a boyfriend recently?”

“No,” I replied in confusion. “Why do you ask?”

“Your necklace.”

“Oh. No, it … it belonged to my mom. My aunt recently sent it to me.” The gold pendant depicted a heart merged with an infinity symbol. “My grandmother had it custom-made for my mom on her sixteenth birthday.”

“You never talk about your mom.”

“She died when I was four… along with my dad.”

*

Regret flashed across my boss’ face as he exclaimed, “f**k Natalie, I feel like a bastard.” He ran his hand through his wavy hair, then down the back of his head, and I wondered if the action resulted from missing his long hair. “Here I am wallowing on my birthday as if I am the only one between us to suffer a loss; all the while, you lost both your parents at the same time.”

“Mr. Ó Ceallaigh, it’s okay, really. We all handle grief differently. Mine doesn’t lessen yours. You deserve the right to wallow on your birthday if you want.”

“I don’t. Not when we have a full day of work ahead of us. What’s first on the agenda?” I consulted the appointment app on my phone and answered, “We still have a bit of time before our first meeting. How about some coffee?”

*

When I returned from Leroy’s, armed with caffeinated beverages, Mr. Ó Ceallaigh was at his desk, reading through research material on properties. He was in the process of starting a luxury travel agency and was on the hunt for commercial real estate for its headquarters. When he saw me, he plopped a folder on the front of his desk and said, “Have a look at this one. It’s our first stop. I want you familiar with the details before we meet with the realtor.”

“Of course,” I replied, handing him a cup of coffee.

*

I’d just sat down and opened the folder when I heard him gag. “Ugh, what the hell is this?” he grimaced, examining the cup in disgust. With a look at the cup in my hand, I realized I’d given him my latte by mistake. “Oops!” I exclaimed, as I leapt to my feet. “I’m sorry, I must have mixed them up.”

*

After we swapped cups, he asked with interest, “What is that?”

“A hazelnut latte,” I informed him. “I know it wasn’t what you expected, but did you like it?”

“Not in the least. Do you drink that every day?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re nuts,” he muttered before sipping his Americano. I stared at him blankly for a moment, then asked in amusement, “Was that a joke?”

“No,” he replied flatly, but I spotted the corner of his mouth turn up a smidge as he held back a smile. “It was a joke,” I insisted. “You made a pun! It really is a special day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I must say, I like the new joking boss.”

“Don’t get used to him.”

“So, you admit you made a joke?”

“I admit nothing.”

*

We worked quietly for a half hour until time to leave for our first meeting. After donning our coats and scarves, we moved into the elevator. When my boss noticed me still nursing the last of my coffee, he asserted, “You’re not bringing that in my car.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. There’s a trash can on the way out.”

“Good, so long as we understand one another.” He pressed the button for the parking garage as I said, “Mr. Ó Ceallaigh, please do not insult me by suggesting I would dare bring coffee into a half-a-million-dollar car.” We both stared straight ahead at the elevator doors, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught his smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~