Switch (Landry Family 3)

“Just keep

doing what you do.”

I hope she hears the professional aspect of that and not the edge of the rest. Not the fact that I’m starting to rely on her presence, her smile, her laugh more than I even care to admit.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, spinning on her heel and walking out. I hear things rustle before she reappears.

In a grey dress with pockets on the sides, she looks like a professional administrative assistant . . . with a can of soda in one hand and a protein bar in the other.

“What are you doing?” I lean back in my seat as she sets the items in front of me.

“You need a pick me up. Here, eat this.”

“Do you not see the irony in a sugar-filled soda and a protein bar?”

“It’s called balance,” she sighs, circling behind me. Her fingers dip beneath the collar of my jacket and tenderly grasp the back of my neck. “You need a little balance and a little relaxation.” She works my muscles back and forth, her thumbs rolling up and down my skin. “You are so tight.”

“That’s my line,” I crack, moving my head side-to-side to give her more room. “God, that feels good.”

“That’s my line,” she laughs.

Working out the knots that I didn’t even realize were so apparent, I nearly melt in her hands. I can’t remember feeling like this before. Ever. Any time a woman has touched me, it’s for a purpose—an end result with her as the beneficiary at the end. This? This is just for me.

“You could use some yoga in your life, Mr. Landry.”

“Not my thing,” I say, almost cringing as she really gets deep into the tissue.

“It should be. At least some of it. It’s really amazing,” she sighs. “My first-of-the-month resolution is to find balance.”

“Your what?”

“Everyone does New Year’s resolutions. I always fail by day three. There’s just so much pressure because everyone knows you’re supposed to be walking ten thousand steps or not eating cake. It’s horrible.”

“I’d never vow not to eat cake,” I remark. “That’s absurd.”

She laughs, giving me one final squeeze. “I tried it once. I failed, hence these hips.” As she walks in front of my desk and sits across from me, we exchange a smile.

“I happen to really like those hips.”

“Anyway,” she blushes, changing the topic, “I’m doing a resolution each month. It’s just something I want to work on and get better. Each month is roughly thirty days and that’s how long they say it takes to make a new habit.”

“So your new habit is balance?”

“Yes.”

“And here I was hoping it would be me,” I whisper. The words leave my mouth and I regret them. I mean them, absolutely, but I don’t want to lead her on that this can be a habit. It can’t. It has to end at some point or find some way to fit in boundaries and I’m not sure she’s boundary-able. That’s a completely different obstacle I can’t figure out how to clear.

Thankfully, she ignores my comment. “I think you need balance,” she says. “You do, do, do for all these people. I only know the tip of it, I’m sure, but you are the center of your entire family, Graham. And then you run this company like it’s your baby.”

“It is my baby,” I correct her.

“That’s what I’m saying,” she sighs. “When do you get to do Graham things? When do you relax? When do you get to be you and not in a suit?”

“I’m not sure what planet you’re on, but I look damn good in this suit.”

“Stop changing the subject!”

“While I’m honored you care so much about my dress code, I can assure you I’m fine. I’m doing what I love. This life I have, it’s one I created after a lot of thought and planning. There’s nothing else I want or need that I don’t already have.”