I nodded my head, silent tears again streaming down my face. “He did. Honestly, I don’t think there was any other way to do it. Even seeing me holding another man’s hand and hearing Marco call me his girl, he still wanted confirmation. He believed in us so much, he didn’t even want to accept it when it was right before his eyes. He’s been that way since the day I met him. I never knew a man could be so unwavering in his love and support. It was the most beautiful part about him.”
When my shoulders began to shake again, Del wrapped me back in her arms. “He’s going to give that to his little girl. You wanted to do this for her. That part of him won’t change. It just won’t be you he’s devoted to anymore.”
CHAPTER 29
GRAHAM
“REBECCA!”
Was it so hard to find competent people these days? I smacked the intercom button down again, yelling louder. “Rebecca!” There was no way she couldn’t hear me the last ten minutes. The entire damn office had to have heard me, even though my office door was shut. With no response, I went in search of my secretary. Her desk was empty, and it looked like she wasn’t in today, even though she was sitting there when I walked in only three hours ago. Grumbling to myself with a stack of papers, I headed to reception.
“Where is Rebecca?”
“Who?”
“My secretary. She’s not at her desk again.”
“Oh. You mean Eliza.”
“Whatever. Where is she?”
“She quit this morning, Mr. Morgan.”
“She what?”
“She quit.”
“Jesus Christ. It’s impossible to find dependable staff anymore.” I tossed the stack of papers I was holding onto the reception desk. “I need five sets of these.”
A little while later, there was a knock at my door. “What?”
The receptionist held the photocopies I’d asked for, along with a stack of newspapers. “Where would you like the copies?”
I pointed with my finger, without looking up from my work. “On the credenza.”
“You haven’t been taking your newspapers out of your mail slot this week, so I brought them to you.”
“I don’t want them.”
A few minutes later, I still hadn’t looked up, and I realized that the receptionist was still in my office. Sighing, I acknowledged her, not that I wanted to. But seeing as she was standing on the other side of my desk staring at me, she left me little choice. “What?”
“Ava. My name is Ava.”
“I know that.”
“May I say something, Mr. Morgan?”
I tossed my pen on my desk. “You’ve already interrupted me, so spit out whatever it is you’d like to say, and get it over with.”
She nodded. “I’ve worked here for two years now.”
Really? “And…”
“Do you know how many secretaries you’ve had in that time?”
“I have no idea. But since you’re wasting my time, I’m going to assume you’re about to enlighten me.”
“Forty-two.”
“In a city this size, it’s pretty damn amazing how difficult it is to find good help.”
“Do you know why they leave?”
“I’m not sure I care.”
“They leave because you’re normally a tyrant to work for.”
My eyebrows jumped. “Is that so, Ava?”
“It is, Mr. Morgan.”
“So why are you still here? You just said yourself that you’ve been here for two years.”
She shrugged. “My dad used to be like you. Plus, we don’t have that much interaction since I’m up at reception all day. Most days you whiz by me and don’t even acknowledge my existence. Which is fine with me.”
“And your point to all this is? Are you trying to end your two-year streak of putting up with me? Because in about ten seconds, I think you will have succeeded.”
“No, sir. The point I wanted to make is that…well…a few months ago you started to change. Eliza, your secretary, was here for almost six weeks, and she actually seemed to like her job.”
I stared at her, but said nothing, forcing her to continue.
“Until a few days ago. When Angry Mr. Morgan walked back in. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, I’m sorry. And I hope we get Nice Mr. Morgan back again real soon.”
Nice Mr. Morgan? He was the asshole who got stepped on. “Are you done yet, Ava?”
“I am. I’m sorry if I upset you. I just wanted to say you seemed happy. And now you’re not.”
I picked up my pen and proceeded to bury myself back in my work. Ava took the hint this time. Just as she was about to walk out, I asked, “What happened to your dad?”
“Pardon?”
“You said your dad used to be like me.”
“Oh. He met my stepmother. Now he’s different.”
“Leave the newspapers on the credenza and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”
***