Thorough
1608 Words
There was no doubt that Brent Holdings was serious about our partnership.
After Audrey had very obviously ditched us for breakfast after the emergency call fiasco, he’d taken me to a dinky diner on the corner that had the best, fluffiest pancakes I’d ever had. I noticed that he ate light—lighter than someone who had just been working out—and, despite wearing a sour expression when doing so, passed me the bill when it came.
“Fair is fair,” I’d reminded him.
It looked like it pained him as I pulled out my credit card, slapping it into the card slot. Still, almost begrudgingly, he gave a slight nod in agreement. “Equal partnership.”
I smiled sweetly and he took a swig of his coffee, eyes peeled on me. Setting his coffee down, I noticed that he tapped his pointer finger on the side. “I’m in town for two more days.”
“Oh?”
“We should make breakfast our thing,” he said with a sideways smile.
“Should we?”
“Shouldn’t we?” he pressed. “I think it would do us both some good. It’ll save me from having to worry about further emergency calls”—he quirked a brow at that one, making an obvious point to which I considered objecting—“and you can ask me all the questions I’m sure you have about my relationship with Theodore Blackwell.”
That one peaked my interest.
Brent, aware that he’d just hooked me, offered a breezy smile.
“Couldn’t you just tell me—”
“One question per breakfast.” He was toying with me.
As if I would just accept those terms. “Three.”
“Two.”
“Done,” I said.
“Starting tomorrow,” he grinned.
Pursing my lips, I recognized this game. “We had breakfast today.”
“But you paid,” he stated, lifting his coffee once more, this gleam in his dark eyes. I narrowed my eyes, about to rant about equal partnership when he added, “You purchasing my meal could be misconstrued as you bribing me to disclose personal information about one of my VIP clients, Sweets. That’s an ethical line I can’t cross.” He gave me a sly look. “You understand.”
I could see why he would get along with Theodore. Piecing his plot together, I played along. “And if you pay for the meal—”
“—then we’re just old friends chatting casually about a mutual acquaintance.”
Of course.
As the server dropped the receipt back at the table, I put my card away, filling in the tip and signature with precise motions. “You really hate it when I pay.”
Taking a swig of his coffee, there was a knowing look in his eyes. It was familiar to me, I realized. He’d made that face every time he asked a question he already knew the answer to. “Deal?”
“You really think that Theo would come after us for talking about him?” Phil would never allow him to put me through a hard time. That would put our contracted surrogacy in danger.
“I think he would come after me,” he corrected, offering me a deadpan look. “You may have a close, caring relationship with him but if I become a liability, he would bury me with a smile on his face.”
Huh.
It occurred to me that he wasn’t wrong.
So this was how people outside of our small circle viewed Theodore Blackwell.
“Deal?” Brent pressed, quirking a brow.
Giving a slight nod, I figured it wasn’t like I had anything else planned. “Deal.”
. . .
My apartment was easy enough to box up.
It was a bit sad but there wasn’t much worth dragging to Pittsburgh with me. One carry-on and medium-sized suitcase and I was finished.
Breaking my lease wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be, mostly because my landlord always loved me. Young, leading a quiet business woman lifestyle, I’d never fallen behind on a bill or caused any kind of ruckus. I also hadn’t altered a single thing within the apartment, hadn’t even hung a single picture or piece of art.
It had never occurred to me that my apartment—though sleek, modern, and tidy—was completely barren of personal defects.
Anyone could live here.
Nobody would have been able to know it was leased by me.
Lying on my couch, considering pouring myself another glass of wine, I heard the faint buzz of my phone lying on the coffee table. Frowning, I plucked it from the glass top, answering on the second ring. “Hello?”
“D.”
Surprised, I murmured back, “Hi, T.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
Huh? “Um, jeez, that’s kind of random, T.”
“It’s not random, it’s important. We’re going to be housemates and we have our list of food that’s automatically delivered to the house but I need to take into account your eating habits and preferences. This will be your home now too.”
Home.
I thought of all the pictures that hung on their walls with friends and family.
Phil had his beloved kitchen and Theo had his state of the art gym.
It was obvious who lived there. It was obvious they had preferences, passions.
They had a home.
“Actually,” he went on, “I have a list of questions. I’ll just email them to you.”
“A list?” I wondered, amused.
“Every decision I make is based on a cumulation of information. You know, the holidays will be coming up here soon and I don’t just give good gifts, D.”
“Oh, really?”
“I give excellent gifts.” There was finality in it. Blunt confidence.
The giggle that escaped my throat was automatic.
Theo chuckled in response which caught me off guard.
Since when was he so . . . endearing? Was this the Theo that Phil fell in love with? “Well, I don’t mind filling out a list for your but can you and Phil fill out the same list with your preferences and send it to me?”
“Sounds like a fair exchange.”
Putting him on speaker, I went straight to my e-mail. The first question that was on the list he’d sent me was asking what my favorite color was. “Phil probably knows most of these about me.”
“I like to have a file on my favorite people.”
I imagined a filing cabinet with our inner circles’ names on each folder. I could imagine that Phil’s was four folders deep by now. “That seems oddly stalker-ish, T.”
“I’m just thorough.” There was no shame in his voice. That shouldn’t surprise me in the least, of course. Theo was always as shameless as he was brazen, even back in high school. “My husband wants to know if you’re alright.”
I bet Phil was right next to him listening to the entire conversation. “I’m just fine, Phil. I’ll be on the first flight back Friday morning.”
“He asked how things went with George.”
“Well.” Frowning at the sound of that name, I muttered, “Audrey called Brent Holdings.”
“Did she?” He didn’t even try to play dumb.
“I can’t imagine how she got his number.”
“I knew he was in town. Figured he’d help faster than we could.”
Of course he did. “It only took him seven minutes to get there.”
“That’s quite impressive.” He didn’t sound impressed.
“Isn’t it? Makes me wonder what business he has that brought him so close to the Whittiker office.” There was no hiding the gentle accusation in my voice.
Theo didn’t miss a beat. “I know he’s heavily involved with the theater in that area.”
Pursing my lips, I thought of Evan, of how he’d mentioned a recommendation from an important benefactor. I had a feeling Theo always had a rock-solid alibi. “I’m starting to understand why you keep a file on everyone.”
“Again,” he said easily, “I like to be thorough, D.”
Mhm. Sure he did. I was beginning to wonder why he hadn’t chosen to pursue politics. “Well, there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m a grown woman. I have everything under control.”
“Of course you do.” He sounded sincere. “Don’t forget to fill out the questionnaire. I’ll send you ours shortly.”
“Will do.”
“Goodnight, D. Be safe.”
With a slight smile, I murmured. “Goodnight, T.”
“Don’t drink too much wine and drunk dial your ex,” was his added tidbit.
He had to ruin it. “Goodnight, T,” I repeated with a scowl, hanging up. Setting the phone down, I moved to pick up my wine and hesitated.
My thoughts flickered to dark eyes gazing at me over a morning cup of joe, an easy smile.
Seven minutes.
I wondered, vacantly, if he’d respond just as quickly to a second call.
Biting my lip, I knew there was no way I would ever call my ex, but Brent?
Setting the glass back down, I let out a soft sigh. What was I thinking?
Perhaps I’d had one too many, after all.
- Writer
