“She’s young, sir. I’m sure she’s just enthusiastic about her new job, and if I may speak freely?” I mumble my approval and he continues. “She’s probably intimidated by you.”
My eyes snap to his in the rearview mirror. “Intimidated?” I arch an eyebrow because he didn’t see how she just demanded I say goodbye to my own daughter and then proceeded to school me on how I should call her while I’m away. She’s not wrong but I’m not exactly used to be being brought to task by the hired help.
“Yes, sir. She said as much in our brief chat this morning.”
I lean back, letting the thought marinate in my brain for the rest of the drive. I like the idea of her being intimidated by me. I want her to be scared. I want her to keep her distance and stop trying to make small talk and get to know me. Not because I’m just a grumpy asshole but because for as much as I want to snap at her, to tell her to mind her business and keep her distance from me, I also crave her. I don’t trust myself to keep my distance from her. I feel like I’m a ticking time bomb and it’s only a matter of time before I give in and do or say something stupid.
I land in New York, then check into my hotel and head out to meet with my clients. We spend the afternoon in meetings at their headquarters in Manhattan and by the time I return to my room, it’s after nine p.m. Eleanor will have been asleep for hours at this point. I feel terrible but I promise myself that I’ll make time to call her tomorrow.
I’m exhausted. I order room service and work for another two hours before calling it a night and falling asleep in front of the television.
The next morning, it’s the same thing all over again. My first meeting starts at eight a.m., but I get up a few hours early to catch up on work before I head into the office.
I decide to hit the streets for a morning run, inspired by Margot’s run yesterday. I’ve always made it a point to keep myself in shape. I’m naturally lean and tall, but I make sure to stay on top of a healthy diet and regular exercise. I finish a five-mile run in Central Park, then grab a cup of coffee from a cart on my way back to the hotel. I promise myself that I’ll make time to call Eleanor tonight before the day gets away from me.
I check my phone as we arrive at the restaurant. It’s already pushing seven p.m. here in New York, which is six p.m. back home. Eleanor will have eaten dinner by now and is probably playing before she takes her bath and gets ready for bed. Guilt eats at me when I realize I’ve fucked up again. I finish my old-fashioned and slide the glass across the bar.
“Expecting a call?” Jerry, one of the guys, nudges me as I slide my phone back into my pocket. “Got a lady waiting for you back at the hotel?” He laughs hysterically, his large round belly bouncing as his already glowing cheeks redden even more.
He’s had at least four drinks to my one and from the looks of it, he’s probably a functioning alcoholic.
“My daughter back home.” I smile. “I kind of told my nanny that I’d be better at telling my daughter good night.” I didn’t actually tell Margot that, but that’s what my intentions were.
“The nanny,” he says again before nudging me and laughing even harder as a few of the other men join in.
“Well, don’t hold back. Let’s see a picture of her!” another one adds.
“Is she young?”
Instantly, I have to tell myself not to haul off and punch this sleazeball right in the fucking mouth. Instead, I just motion to the bartender for a second old-fashioned. I’d planned on stopping at one, but if I have to sit through another few hours with these idiots, I’m going to need some liquid assistance.
“Gentlemen, I’d prefer to leave my private life private. Looks like our table is ready.” I motion toward the hostess who is approaching us.
“Hey, sweetheart. Are you on the menu?” Jerry asks the young woman as she gestures toward our table.
I can tell by the look on her face she’s used to this kind of bullshit from drunken assholes.
“My apologies,” I say to her as I flash a sympathetic smile. “I’ll tighten his leash.”
By the time I’ve left the restaurant, I’ve had three drinks and it’s just after ten p.m., which means it’s nine p.m. at home and I’ve missed my chance to call Eleanor. I pour myself a little more bourbon when I get back to my room. I loosen my tie and pull it over my head, tossing it and my vest onto the chair and kicking off my shoes.
I’m not quite drunk but I’m certainly tipsy. The normal care I take with my clothes seems less important as I open the balcony door and take a seat on one of the lounge chairs. The city lights flicker like diamonds against the night sky. From this height, it feels eerily quiet in Manhattan. There are just a few dull sirens and a horn honking in the distance.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and flick through my contacts till I pull up Margot’s number. I hit dial and wait for her to pick up.
“Hello?” She sounds confused.
“Miss Silver.” My voice sounds deeper than usual, the effect of the alcohol and talking all night I assume.
“Everything okay, sir?”
Sir. Such an innocent little word that when spoken by her sends all sorts of thoughts racing through my brain.
“No. I fucked up.” The bourbon has clearly lowered my inhibitions.
“Oh?”
“I meant to call Eleanor, but time got away from me.”
“I understand. Did you want me to wake her up?”
“No, that’s not necessary,” I say, unsure where this conversation is going or why I even called this late when I damn well knew my daughter was already asleep. From her questioning tone, it’s clear Margot is wondering the same thing.
“Did she have a good day?”
“She did. She drew you another picture for your office and we went to the children’s museum which she loved. It really wore her out though.” She giggles and I can picture her plump pink lips curling up into that beautiful smile.
“That’s good. Did you have a good day?” The other end of the line is silent. “Miss Silver?”
“Yes, yes, I did. Thank you for asking. Did you?”
“It was fine.”
I know we’re both thinking the same thing right now—why the fuck are we on this call? But I can’t bring myself to hang up just yet.
“How’d your meetings go?” I picture her lying back in her bed, one hand behind her head as she stares at the ceiling and talks to me. I adjust myself in my chair, leaning back and kicking my feet up on the other chair on the balcony as I take another sip of my liquor.
“They went well. It’s a proposal for an acquisition that’s been in the works for the better part of a year. Seems like things are moving forward and contracts will be ready soon.”
“Wow, a year? Sounds so official and—honestly, a bit frustrating.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re not wrong. These kinds of deals can take years. This one is actually moving quite quickly. It just requires a lot of ego stroking and hand-holding with these men so they feel special and comfortable.”
I don’t know why I’m sharing so much with her. Maybe I’m lonelier than I realize or perhaps it’s the fact that nobody asks me how my day or meetings go… ever. At least not since Meredith. It feels good to share, even if it’s just out of obligation since I’m keeping her on the phone.