“I just hate to be a burden and keep you from work or anything you had planned this weekend,” I muttered apologetically. It was true. I now, more than ever, understood how busy a man Azmir was. He was responsible for and depended on by countless people.
He looked me in my eyes. “You were my weekend agenda. You are always my weekend agenda, Rayna, unless you plan otherwise.” He was annoyed, according to his tone.
He strolled to the kitchen. Did I manage to piss him off again? I followed him at a reserved pace and crawled into a chair at the kitchen table and watched as he placed the order for the resident concierge to pick up and deliver it to our door.
The broth was gentle on my stomach and I could assess that the virus was easing up on me. We spent that Sunday relaxing, watching television, and Azmir got some work in. My trips to the bathroom came to a halt that afternoon. I even felt up for a walk on the marina. It was a beautiful evening breeze out on the water. Azmir continued his quest to learn more about the woman I was before moving out to California. I answered his questions to the best of my trusting abilities. I’d even gotten more information on his childhood. We talked about his current business projects and he offered to have me travel with him.
The following morning, after having Chef Boyd serve me toasted croissants to spruce up my breakfast considering my dietary restrictions, Azmir hesitantly left for work and insisted that I stay behind to get some rest. He was right. Although my bathroom needs had ended, I was slightly dehydrated and needed to take it easy for at least one more day. I called in and let the staff know that I’d be available via telephone should they need me. Chef Boyd left around nine that morning and informed me that he made a special broth soup for me considering my bug. I returned to bed after seeing him out.
I didn’t sleep much after Azmir left for work. My body was officially thrown off its daily program. Once resigned to the fact that sleep wasn’t going to happen, I pulled out my laptop to return e-mails and worked from home. At around twelve thirty, I was still on my laptop in between working and shopping for a thank you gift for Azmir when I got a new e-mail notification. I soon discovered that it was from Sharon, furnishing me with Azmir’s weekly schedule. I’d totally forgotten about this tradition. We’d been doing it for months since he suggested it, believing it would make us more “in sync”, but I never really took advantage of it. Perhaps for the first few weeks I felt like a lucky girl to be the recipient of the Great A.D. Jacobs’ weekly itinerary, but as time progressed my anticipation of it had dulled. And when I moved in with him, it had really become useless as he often shared much of his whereabouts with me, for the most part, by way of conversation.
Just like that morning, before he left, he informed me that he was headed to a staff meeting at Cobalt, followed by a disciplinary meeting for one of his bar managers there. Then he’d be making his way to the rec center. I decided to match his itinerary against what he shared with me earlier out of pure boredom. After a few clicks, I started at the top of his day, confirming his aforementioned plans until I got to a twelve forty-five luncheon with Bacote & Taylor Public Relations Team there at the rec. The name Taylor struck me. It had to be that Dawn Taylor.
I gasped. Azmir didn’t announce that this morning! Not that he had to. Azmir owed me no previews of or explanations of his affairs—work-related or otherwise. I was not his…girlfriend. There. I said it to myself! Ugh!