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I let out a high-pitched squeal as I set the coffee pot down on the table beside Brian and run towards them.
“Mom!” I shout when I reach her. I wrap my arms around her neck and squeeze as tight as I can. When I let her go, I fix my gaze on her companion. “You came.”
Diane smiles, but I don't miss the extra effort it takes for her to breathe, respond, stand for longer than a few minutes. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“Let me go get Kyle,” I tell her as I race up the stairs to the second floor.
I don’t even bother slowing down as I barrel into his office, “You’ll never guess who—”
But I stop in my tracks, surprised to see a woman standing over Kyle, maybe a little too close for comfort, both peering down at his computer screen.
Kyle looks up, offers me a tight smile when he sees my disheveled state, my mouth dropped open in shock.
“Jenny this is Chantal,” he introduces as he clears his throat. “Chantal, this is Jenny.”
The woman doesn’t move from her spot beside him, her soulful brown eyes resting gently on me. “Nice to meet you, Jenny.”
She finally stands upright, removing her hand from the back of Kyle's chair. I feel myself shrink with intimidation. She’s beautiful in her tailored black dress pants and white blouse. Her mocha-colored skin shimmers beneath the harsh lighting as she runs a hand over her curly, black hair.
“Can I speak with you for a second?” I say to Kyle. “Alone?”
“Sure,” he replies as he stands and walks towards me. Chantal slides into his chair and continues staring at the screen, oblivious to the intense jealousy ripping through my chest.
“What’s going on?” Kyle asks as his hand finds mine, the other one closing the door behind us.
“Who is she?”
“Chantal? The marketing consultant I hired a few months ago,” he answers as he runs his free hand through my hair, twirling a stand between his fingers. “Why?"
"She was basically sitting in your lap," I tip my head to the side, waiting for an explanation.
"Are you jealous, Jenny?” Kyle sounds amused.
“No,” I weakly respond. "I just…"
“I saw Brian walk in a few minutes ago," he lets go of my hand and crosses his arms over his chest.
“He’s 31, Kyle,” I roll my eyes. “He's practically a geriatric patient.”
"Doesn't stop him from checking you out," he argues.
I ignore him. This conversation is getting us nowhere. "Your mom is here."
His whole face lights up, his brown eyes crinkling and his smile widening. "Really? She came here?"
"Yes," I tell him. "She's downstairs waiting for you to give her a tour of the place."
“What should I do?” he asks me, sounding uncertain, maybe a little apprehensive. His fingers find mine again
“Show her what you’ve built,” I tell him. “She's here to see it."
“You did this?” he guesses.
I swallow hard, holding back a wave of emotion. “Yes. I may have invited her."
He kisses the top of my head. "Can you take care of Chantal for me?"
"Go," I instruct as I point to the stairs.
