Just Say The Word

by Tiffany Patterson

  Rolling my eyes, I turned to the woman leaning against the door jamb of my office. She smiled and her heels sounded loudly as she made her way across the hardwood floor to sit in the black leather chair across from my own seat, which sat behind my glass desk.

  “I didn’t want that office,” I stated, moving away from the window and taking my last sip of coffee before tossing the cup in the wastebasket.

  “This office is nicer and has better views. But you keep looking at that other building like you wish you could have that office.”

  “I don’t, Charlotte.”

  She sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. She quickly recovered, twisting her head and neck to move the long, bouncy curls of the weave she wore that particular week out of her face.

  “What time is my meeting with Sean?” I questioned, looking down at the files on my desk, shuffling through them.

  “Nine o’clock. It’s only quarter of.”

  I nodded, my eyes going to the silver Cartier timepiece on my wrist that matched my suit. I didn’t wear watches, they were timepieces.

  “Mama wants to know why you haven’t been over to visit her.”

  I lifted my gaze to meet Charlotte’s. My baby sister stared me right in the eye as if she truly expected an answer.

  “I was over not too long ago.”

  “Yeah, in like November. You called her for Christmas. It’s February, Damon. She’s our mother.”

  I snorted. “You think I need you to remind me who the woman who birthed me is?”

  She rolled her brown eyes, pursing her lips. “She wants to see you.”

  “For what? She has no mortgage. She gets the money I put in her accounts every month. She gets the food I have delivered to her place every week. What does she need?”

  “You,” Charlotte screeched, sounding exasperated.

  “Watch all that yelling in the office.”

  She huffed, uncrossing her legs and standing. In the heels she wore Charlotte was almost as tall as my six-foot-three height. At five ten, she was no shorty, but she loved to accentuate her height with heels.

  “If you weren’t my brother …”

  “You’d what? Have to actually work for a living?”

  “I work,” she insisted. “This place couldn’t run without me.”

  I chuckled at the preposterous notion. I decided against informing my sister that I’d successfully ran my business for the last decade, eight and a half of which had been without her. Charlotte had graduated from college after five years and then spent the next twenty months backpacking around Europe, Asia, and South America, on my dime, mind you. After coming back and deciding she had no clue what to do with her life, I took her on as my administrative assistant, seeing as how my previous one had just retired. Taking care of the women in my life had become a way of life ever since I was thirteen years old and my father was killed.

  “If you say so, little sis.”

  “Anyway, Sean will be here soon. You know he’s as much of a stickler for time as you are.”

  “What up, cousins?!”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “See what I mean?”

  She turned and gave Sean, my righthand man in my business a smile.

  “Hey, Sean.”

  “Charlotte.”

  “You want some coffee?”

  “Yeah, one creamer, two sugars.”

  “Coming up.”

  Charlotte moved past him and gave me a half smile.

  “You finally got her acting like a real assistant?”

  I pushed out a breath. “Trying to. What up?” I questioned as I held out my hand for Sean to slap it and pulled him into a half hug, our typical greeting. Aside from Joshua, Sean was my closest friend and ally. He was also family, though we’d only come to know each other in our later teen years.

  “How was your flight back?”

  Sean shook his dark head before sitting in the chair Charlotte had just vacated. “It was smooth, thank god.”

  I chuckled. Sean hated flying even though he probably took something like fifty flights a year with all of the travel we did for work.

  “Hey, did you see the new mock-up our designer did of the watch?”

  “Not yet. Been waiting on you to arrive to take a look.”

  “Man, it’s a thing of beauty.” He pulled out his tablet and tapped a few keys before setting it up and turning the screen to face me.

  I leaned across the desk, from my still standing position, and brought the tablet closer. I whistled long and hard.

  “Right? I told you.”

  This really was a thing of beauty. “He added all of the specifications I asked for.”

  “Asked? You mean demanded.”

  I shrugged. He was right. I was going for a specific look, and if this guy couldn’t design it, then we’d get someone else. Like I said, I was interested in timepieces, not just a fucking watch.

  “I know you’ve been planning a woman’s watch. I was thinking it would have diamonds in the face floating. Not too many to make it gaudy but four or five just to make it appealing enough to the eye.”

  I nodded. “I like that.” Sean and I both had a passion for watches. Apparently, it’d been something our grandfather had passed down to my father and Sean’s mother. He wanted our first female timepiece to serve as a tribute to his mother.

  “Imagine showing this off at SIHH one day,” he stated, holding up the design of our athletic watch.

  “That’s the dream.”

  SIHH, also referred to as the Salon International De La Haute Horlogerie. In other words, the international gathering for those interested in high-end watchmaking. Each year it was hosted in Geneva. We were going in just a few weeks. While the watch we were staring at would not be ready by then, it would one day.

  “That’s a beauty. We’ll discuss it some more later, but I have a meeting with the lawyers today to go over our exposure to liability. Since we’ve been adding more apartments, it only makes sense to review our insurances and whatnot.”

  Sean nodded. “I hear you. Sounds like a good look to me. I’ve been researching the loft apartments you asked me to.”

  I lifted an eyebrow, peering across my desk at Sean. After thinking over Scarlet’s place, I had Sean do some research on the community and the owner of the apartment building. Always searching for more leads. Sean’s official title in my company was that of vice president. He’d been with me since the beginning and enjoyed real estate—and now, watchmaking—almost as much as I did, but he was more than comfortable taking a backseat position. Though, he didn’t need fancy ass titles or the recognition that came with them. For that, I respected him. And his hustle was truly unmatched, save for my own.

  Sean and I talked and caught up for another thirty minutes before we both needed to head out to our respective meetings throughout the day.

  “Tonight would be a good time to go see Mama,” Charlotte pestered as I moved past her desk toward the glass door to exit.

  I paused and looked at my sister like she was crazy.

  “I’m just saying. Your last meeting is not too far from her condo.”

  “Whatever,” I responded before heading out the door, keys in hand. She was right, but stopping by to see my mother hadn’t been on my list of things to do that day.

  Imagine my surprise when a couple hours later, I was standing at the desk of another woman’s who also hadn’t been on my list to see that day. Or any day, to be honest.

  ****

  Sandra

  The romance novels I love to devour often talk of the heroine feeling the presence of her hero before seeing him. I’d never had that experience in my life. Not once. Until that moment as I stared at my computer screen and a feeling crept through me, that I’d only felt in the presence of one man. The goosebumps rising along my arms told me I wasn’t making it up.

  “Hello.”

  Did his voice have to be so deep? And so silky? And so rich and full of … everything?

  “Sandra?”


  Oh shoot. I still hadn’t said anything.

  I turned, pulling the earbuds from my ear. They hadn’t been on. I’d heard his “hello” loud and clear.

  “Damon.” My voice was breathless. I stood from my chair. “H-how are you?” I smoothed down the edges of the pastel pink pants I wore before unconsciously straightening out the belted bow of the pants.

  His thick lips spread into a smile, displaying his perfectly straight and blindingly white teeth. He was obviously a man who believed in managing his appearance. I briefly wondered if he ever wore braces as a child.

  “I’m doing well. Was in the office for a meeting so I thought I’d come visit.”

  “Office?” I glanced around as if I’d forgotten I was even at work.

  “Yeah, but the real estate division. Connors is my head attorney.”

  “Oh, right.” I nodded, my brain suddenly coming back to life. We did indeed have a real estate division in this law firm.

  “How’s your car?”

  I frowned, my stomach dropping a little. There hadn’t been any good news regarding my car. For the past week and three days I’d been using Uber to get around.

  “That doesn’t look good.”

  I lowered my head slightly then remembered that was probably rude. “It’s not. The mechanic says it’ll cost more to fix than it’s worth. He’s giving me a few days to decide what I want to do.”

  Damon nodded in understanding. “Then you need a new car?”

  I pushed out a breath, my shoulders slumping. I really wanted to put off buying a new car. I’d been saving up for a new one but hadn’t quite reached my goal just get.

  “Looks like it.”

  “That’s not a terrible thing.”

  I shrugged. “In the grand scheme of things—” I stopped short when my office phone began ringing. “Can you excuse me for one second?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Turning, I frowned, looking at the time. It was almost a quarter after one which meant I was supposed to be on my lunch break. The receptionist usually held my calls during the hour, so to have my phone ringing surprised me.

  “Sandra Robinson, how may I help you?”

  “Ms. Robinson, this is Mrs. Green, at P.S. 150—”

  “The school nurse!” I blurted out, my heartbeat starting to race. I immediately began opening my drawer for my bag and cell phone. “Is she okay? What happened?”

  “There was an incident. Monique collapsed on the playground. It appears she didn’t have her insulin with her.”

  “Oh my god! Where is she now?”

  “She’s being taken to Williamsport General. The school’s social worker, Debbie, is with her.”

  “I’m on my way.” I frantically hung up the phone, grabbed my handbag and cell phone, and spun around to let Emma know I was leaving for the day. On second thought, I’d tell Emma from the car. My baby needed me.

  “Unf!” I let out as I walked into a damn brick wall.

  “What happened?”

  His big hand cupped my upper arm and I felt myself wanting to lean into that strength.

  “Monique got sick at school. She’s being taken to the hospital. I have to get to her.” I said it all in one breath.

  “I’ll take you.”

  I peered up at him. “What?”

  “You don’t have a car, right? You’d have to wait for an Uber or a taxi.”

  I swallowed and nodded.

  “Let me take you to your daughter.”

  I pushed out a breath and let him lead me by the arm down the hall of my office and out the door. It was only when we stepped over the threshold of the main entrance did I realize his hand was still firmly gripping my arm. I wondered if the shaking from my legs was from his touch or the fear running through me over the well-being of my child.

  It took approximately twenty-minutes to get from my job to Williamsport General. While on the way, I sent a text to Emma letting her know what happened. I was grateful when her response was to please keep her informed on how Monique was doing and she insisted I take the remainder of the day off. Past attorneys I’d worked for couldn’t care less I had a sick child at home or in the hospital. All they cared about was billable hours and productivity.

  As soon as Damon pulled up to the entranceway of the emergency department, I hopped out of the passenger seat, slammed his door shut, and ran inside.

  “I’m looking for Monique Robinson, please,” I stated urgently to the woman behind the nearest desk I could find. I didn’t waste time waiting for her to respond as I glanced up and around at the people filling the room.

  “And you are?” the woman asked.

  “Mrs. Robinson?”

  My head swiveled and I saw a woman I knew was a counselor at Monique’s elementary school. I ran over to her.

  “Where is she? How is she?” I demanded.

  “She’s better now. They had to give her some insulin. She’s resting behind one of the curtains. Follow me.”

  I followed the woman to a far end of the emergency department that was separated into rooms by those hanging cloth shower curtain looking things that hospitals used.

  “Hey, Mommy,” Monique stated a little weakly. Her eyes were droopy as well but she was smiling.

  “Hey, baby,” I responded, rushing to her side, and smoothing the top of her hair back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How’re you feeling?” I asked, my voice softening with concern.

  “Tired but I’m okay.”

  I gave her a small smile. Monique could be feeling like she’d just gotten hit by a bus and she’d still tell me she was doing fine. She knew her mother was a worrier.

  “What happened?” I asked her, pulling up the chair that sat in the corner, taking her hand in mine.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know?”

  That didn’t make sense.

  “Did you not take your insulin outside with you?” The nurse had said she’d collapsed on the playground, so I’d concluded that she must’ve left her insulin in the classroom, forgetting it, and when her insulin dropped, she didn’t have it to medicate with.

  “She says she forgot it at home.”

  I looked from my daughter to the school counselor, eyes going wide.

  “What?” I turned back to Monique.

  “Mrs. Robinson, can I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Yes, of course.” I gave Monique another kiss before following the counselor out of the makeshift room. I pulled the curtain back.

  “Mrs. Robinson, this was a very scary incident.”

  I was thrown by the accusatory tone in the woman’s voice.

  “I’m the last person you need to tell that to.”

  “I was advised that when Monique’s teacher went to go search for the insulin in her bag, it wasn’t there. That is what caused the issue.”

  I began shaking my head. “That can’t be.”

  “It was, and I must say it is highly inadvisable to send your daughter who has such a delicate medical issue to school without the proper medications.”

  Is this bitch out of her mind? I rarely cursed, but when it came to my daughter …

  “First of all, I’d advise you to check your tone when you’re speaking to me about my child. Secondly, not a day goes by that I don’t check Monique’s bag to make sure her insulin, lunch, and extra snacks and juice are packed with her so that this very thing does not happen. So if insulin couldn’t be found, it’s because your incompetent staff couldn’t be so bothered to help my daughter.”

  I pushed out a breath as my nostrils flared. I was furious. I’d lost count of all of the sleepless nights I’d had going in Monique’s room checking and rechecking her insulin level while she slept. Not a morning went by that I didn’t stop to make sure she had her medicines with her. Hell, I’d even fought the school district when they tried to force me to let the school nurse hold onto Monique’s insulin throughout the day. While I’m sure the nurse was decent enough, she was responsible for the health of hundreds of
students throughout the day. I’d much rather have Monique keep her insulin on her because she knew better than anyone when it needed to be checked or she wasn’t feeling well.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to head back to the school.”

  I looked up behind the counselor at the sound of Damon’s deep voice behind her. Both of his eyes appeared to be slightly darker than their usual color, although I could’ve just been imagining things.

  “You must be Monique’s father,” the counselor stated, breathless.

  “Who I am isn’t really your concern.”

  Okay, if I had suspected before, I knew right then that he, like me, was pissed.

  “Mrs. Robinson—”

  “Ms. Robinson,” I emphasized. “You can leave now. I will speak to the doctors about my daughter.”

  I stared the woman down right into those hazel eyes of hers until she finally lowered her head and turned to leave. I watched as she proceeded through the double doors of the ED.

  Rolling my eyes, I turned to head back to Monique. I needed to check on her and speak with the doctor to make sure she was okay, and then ask her about her missing insulin. I wondered if some knucklehead child in her class could’ve stolen it from her as some sort of joke.

  “Mr. Damon.” Monique perked up, not at my entrance back into the room. No. That was saved for the man behind me.

  “Hey, short stuff,” he responded, his voice sounding much lighter than it’d sounded out in the hallway.

  Monique giggled at the silly nickname.

  I frowned, my gaze bouncing between the two of them. When the hell had they formed any type of bond?

  “Mommy, Mr. Damon was over Aunt Kayla and Uncle Josh’s house when they babysat me. He played video games with me and Diego.”

  Well, I guess I had my answer.

  “Diego and I,” I corrected.

  “Short stuff almost beat me, too,” Damon spoke up. “How’re you feeling?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I lifted an eyebrow and Monique looked over at me, her little face giving me an uncertain look. She knew that I knew she was telling a fib.

  “Sweetie, what happened to your insulin? The counselor said the teacher couldn’t find it.”