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The rest is history.
He’s no Paige Landon, of course. But he gets the job done.
“Hey, Marla,” he says with a sly wink and a thick accent from home. “Mr. Botsford, how’s the steak today?”
Graham nods at his empty plate. “Delicious as always,” he answers.
“Excellent.” Parker bobs his head at me. “On my way to the airport. Anything last minute requests before I fly home?”
“Nope,” I say. “Have a pleasant flight. Remember, if you need anything?—”
“Text or email. Don’t call. I know.”
“But if it’s an emergency?—”
“Ask Angela or contact Mr. Botsford here. I know.”
“This is your first solo audit, Parker,” I say. “Boston is small, but... tricky.”
“Which is why I’m spending four days there instead of the usual two.” A smile lights up his youthful face. “Don’t worry about it, Oli. I got this.”
“Okay, but seriously?—”
“I can do this job in my sleep.”
“Right.”
“Blindfolded.”
“Just make sure you?—”
“Follow the checklist,” he finishes with me. “Oliver, really.” He smirks, cocky and smug, as he taps his clipboard. “I got this.”
I nod. “I’ll see you next week,” I say.
“Bye-bye,” he says with a wave at the table.
As he walks away, I look at Graham with a sigh.
“I didn’t sound that douchey, did I?” I ask.
Graham winces as he reaches over and pats me on the back.
* * *
I hold the match to the second candle on the dinner table, putting the finishing touch on the romantic dinner for two. Cloth napkins. Spotless wineglasses. Two dinner plates, kept warm with golden cloches I swiped from room service. A bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket, also swiped from the hotel. All with Graham’s blessing, of course.
Any minute now...
I scan our apartment again for the umpteenth time, but that’s just what you do when you want it to be perfect.
Tidy the living room? Check!
Wipe down the kitchen counters? Check!
Picture the evening over and over until the stress of it gives you a heart attack? In-progress...
But it’ll be fine!
