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“Are you up for playing? It’s alright if you’re not. I’m sure you’ve had quite a long day already.”
“It’s been a while since I played with anyone other than my mother. I could have had a nightmare of a day, and I still wouldn’t pass up the chance to play with someone new. Bring it on,” she challenges.
I pull out the travel set I keep in my desk and start setting it up.
“So, what’s your goal with marketing? Are you looking for more of a general overview of the basic principles or do you have a specific niche you’d like to focus on?”
“I definitely want to spend some time on the basics, for sure. Those building blocks are important, but I’d like to build my own brand and be able to bring business to wherever I end up working because they’re coming for my style, specifically, rather than generic event pastries. Did you want white or black?”
“Guests always play white. They usually need the extra advantage,” I say, centering the board on my desk.
Her eyes flick to my hands, then back up again.
“That confident in your skills, are you?” she taunts.
The smirk on her face has me desperate to drop to my knees in front of her and show her exactly how skilled I am.
Way to stay professional, Phillip.
The further we get into the game, the easier it gets to keep my thoughts in an appropriate sphere.
She's good.
So good, in fact, that I have to actively go on the defensive to keep myself out of check.
By the time she leaves, I have a good sense of how she thinks, her background with marketing psychology, where the gaps are in her knowledge, and half the syllabus for this session outlined in my head.
Avery was my last meeting today. I should get up and head home, but the thought of coming home to an empty house right now is not terribly appealing. Instead, I decide to grab my notepad and scribble down the ideas for the syllabus before I forget.
It’s harder to do than I anticipated. I keep getting distracted by thoughts of her.
Talking with her as we played felt surprisingly like talking with an old friend. The last time I’d felt this at ease with someone I’d just met was the day I’d met Wesley and Jamie.
So, what does that mean for me? More importantly, am I even going to be able to stay professional with someone who already feels like an irreplaceable part of my life?
6
AVERY
Teachers should not be allowed to look that good—ever.
When I saw the name Dr. Phillip Travis on my list of mentors, I had pictured a squat, balding man with glasses and a belly to rival mine—well, when I was pregnant with Leo, that is.
I figured it would be a long session of him looking down his nose at me because of my lack of education, my social status, my single parenthood, or some horrible combination of all three.
Instead, he’d been…
“My story,” Leo says, tugging on my sleeve.
“Peas.” He adds a moment later with a satisfied smile.
“I’m sorry, Bug, Ma was a little distracted.” I drop a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m ready now.”
I pick the top book in the tiny pile on his nightstand and smile. Dump Truck’s Day Out—I should have known this one would make an appearance again.
That’s what happens when Opa takes you to visit his worksite, I suppose.
When I was his age, my dad would always take me along to see the big trucks. He’d even driven me around the worksite in some of them once work had stopped for the day. The only difference is that he’s the foreman now instead of just being one of the guys on the crew.
