Want Me (Mess with Me 4)

After a few years that smile became a sigh. Then the sigh became a smirk. She stopped calling me grandpa as a joke. No, she had other names for me then.

Stick in the mud.

Boring.

Then the final name that changed it all.

Ex-husband.

It’s embarrassing now how much stock I put in her opinion. I worshipped the ground she walked on and she used that knowledge to screw me over and steal most of our clients when she left to start her own agency. It’s well known that love makes you vulnerable. Apparently, it also makes you a dumbass.

Light spills across the surface of the desk when my office door opens suddenly. Startled, I swipe the sheets of paper I was reviewing into a folder and rest my hands on top.

“Sorry, boss. I knocked first but you didn’t answer.”

Mya Taylor-Hamilton is one of the best marketing agents I have on staff and a newly minted Vice President. Creative and brilliant, she’s also a whiz with difficult clients. She’s one of the reasons that I don’t have to think about Elizabeth anymore. All the accounts that Liz used to handle, Mya took over flawlessly.

“It’s fine. What did you need?”

Mya’s eyes dart to the folder under my hands. My fingers tighten around the file reflexively.

Not that I was looking at anything I shouldn’t have been but thoughts of Elizabeth usually affect me this way. Maybe because my good sense knows she’s the last thing I need to think about these days.

“It’s time for the staff meeting. I can run it for you if you’re too busy.”

“No. I’m coming. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

“Great. I’ll marshal the troops.” With a wink, she shuts the door behind her.

I open the top drawer of my desk to put away the folder and my eyes are drawn to the sage green envelope pushed to the back. Every spring Elizabeth would inevitably buy another sundress in the color or a new pair of shoes. I’d complained about it at the time but after she was gone, I’d missed the soft hues of her clothes hanging in the closet across from mine.

She’d always loved the color.

Enough to use it on her wedding invitation to Gareth.

I slam the drawer.

The staff meeting turns out to be an unexpected bright spot in the middle of my day. For once, every team has positive updates on their projects and we move through our agenda quickly.

Finally something is going right.

I’ve gotten really lucky over the years, hiring some of the best and savviest agents in the business. Mya’s team handles most of our beauty and luxury brands while her husband, Milo, handles men’s fashion and sports. Our other team lead, Kevin, handles the technology division. Having the right people at the helm of each division has made my life easier and kept us at the top of the marketing food chain.

We wrap up business quickly and as the meeting breaks up, everyone streams out of the conference room. When I emerge into the hallway, Anya falls into step beside me. She holds out a steaming cup of coffee. I accept it gratefully. Caffeine is on my short list of legal addictions that keep my sane.

“Thank you. What was that for?”

She shrugs. “You looked like you could use it. You had a rough morning, huh?”

For a moment I have no idea what she’s talking about. There’s no way she could know about the new client yet. I’ve been careful to keep that info close to the vest. My confusion must be evident because she laughs.

“The staff meeting. I know how much you hate them.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, I nod. “That I do but they’re a necessary evil. This is exactly what I needed though.”

A few more bracing sips of the strong brew and I feel almost normal. It’s not te

chnically in Anya’s job description to make coffee for anyone, she’s our office manager and not an assistant anymore, but she insists on doing it everyday. Remembering my early attempts to make the coffee remind me of why. For someone who loves it as much as I do, I’m terrible at it. When I make the coffee it tastes more like motor oil.