Mike: You too, beautiful.
His words do something to me. It feels as though my body is a puddle of goo, like I’m melting on the inside from his words. It was a simple “good morning, have a good day” exchange, but it warms me all the same.
Tossing my phone back into my purse, I climb out of the car and head inside.
“Morning, Jamie,” Mr. Warren, my boss, greets me. “How was your weekend?”
“It was great. Dress shopping was a success,” I tell him. I’m sure he doesn’t care, but he never lets on like he doesn’t.
“That’s great. I’m glad you enjoyed your time.”
Since I have his attention, now’s the time to ask him about another long weekend. “I was actually going to talk to you about that. I was hoping to be able to take another long weekend before the wedding, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is. Things are slow around here. You just tell me when.”
“Thank you, Mr. Warren.”
“Not a lot on the books today. Thought I’d have you go through the pending cases and see what we’re still missing. Contact the courts for updates.”
“I’m all over it,” I assure him, watching as he walks to his office. He’s tired, as one should be after practicing law for over thirty-five years. My gut tells me that he wants to wrap up loose ends so he can announce his retirement. I’m not looking forward to job hunting, or not working for him. He’s a great boss, and Mrs. Warren is a hoot.
Quickly I fire off a text to Whit.
Me: Boss man says okay to another long weekend. Hit me with some dates.
Setting my phone to the side, I fire up my computer and get to work. It only takes me a couple of hours to get through the pending cases; I knew we were slowing down, but this really puts it into perspective for me. I quickly type up a log of what’s still pending and what we’re waiting on, make a few calls to the courthouse and a few to the opposing counsel and add that to my document before sending it off in an e-mail to Mr. Warren.
Stomach growling, I realize I’ve consumed nothing but coffee today. Grabbing my purse and phone, I call down the hall, “Going to lunch, you need anything?”
“No, thank you. The missus should be here soon,” he calls back.
I take off down the street and decide on a little café on the corner. They have great salads, sandwiches and wraps, and today I decide on a grilled chicken salad. Taking my tray to a table in the back corner, I dive in hungrily, my phone suddenly vibrating in my purse next to me scaring me half to death.
I dig it out and swipe the screen to find I have five text messages. I go to the name that draws me in first.
Mike.
Mike: Sucks eating alone. Hope your day is going well.
He attached a picture of a lunchmeat sandwich sitting on a plate on what looks like his coffee table.
I snap a quick picture of my salad and send it off with the caption “Wish you were here.” I hit Send before I can think twice about it and then open the texts from Whitney.
Whitney: Really? Hell yes!
Whitney: How about the second week of April? That’s about halfway to the wedding.
Whitney: Hello?
Me: Sorry, I was working. That sounds good to me. I’ll tell Mr. Warren when I get back to the office.
Whitney: Aaron says he’ll get you a plane ticket.
Me: Tell Aaron he’s sweet, but really the drive is nothing. I don’t mind it. I’ll call you later tonight.
Whitney: Stubborn.
Me: Love you.