“I get it. I’ve dated men and women over the years, and I can’t tell you how thankful I am that Ben has no problem with it. But,” Chrissy raises a finger and tries to look as solemn as possible, “I must admit to being attracted to the sex, too.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Sex is important.” Reggie’s laughter lights her up, and Chrissy basks in the warmth created. She can’t believe she’s said something so outrageous, but the way Reggie treats her makes her want to be daring.
Bruno comes over as they get ready to leave, a bag in his hand. “For you and your boy. He likes cannolis, yes? I give you three to have later.”
“Thank you, Bruno. He’ll be ecstatic.” Chrissy smiles and takes the bag.
They make their way back to Chrissy’s apartment in record time, and her nerves come back with a vengeance. “I’ll change in my room. You can use the bathroom.”
Once in the privacy of her bedroom, Chrissy strips and retrieves her costume. She’s taking a leap of faith people will like it. She steps into the yellow bellbottoms, the three-tiered green and white ruffles from knee to ankle standing out against its brightness. She slides her hands through the matching shirt and ties the green laces in front. From elbow to wrist the material is loose and billowy with the same green and white pattern as on the pants. She tucks in the shirt and attaches a wide white belt, clipping the oval silver buckle closed. After donning silver platform shoes, Chrissy takes a look in the mirror and laughs. Her costume is from Mamma Mia’s Donna and the Dynamos. When she saw it online, she knew she had to wear it. It’s skintight, but jogging for so many years has paid off. A knock on the door has her reaching for the knob. She opens it and stares.
Reggie wears a Cleopatra outfit which outlines her curvy figure. The sleeveless black velvet dress has a thigh-high slit on each side of the skirt, and a deep V-neckline edged with gold sequins. She wears a metallic collar and matching belt. On her head is a gold diadem. Her eyes pop out with the smoky eye shadow. Blush emphasizes her cheekbones and her lips—Jesus!—they look ripe for the kissing. Long, gold dangly earrings and gold sandals complete the look.
After an extended silence, Reggie steps forward, placing a hand on Chrissy’s shoulder and gently pushing her back. “Oh, sorry.” Chrissy pivots away while taking a deep breath.
“That’s quite all right. You weren’t kidding about jogging.” Reggie walks around Chrissy slowly, her eyes roaming. “I’ve never seen you wear anything quite so form-fitting.”
Chrissy shifts from one foot to the other, insecure now that Reggie’s studying every inch of her. “Does it look bad?”
“Are you kidding? You look gorgeous.” Hearing a breathless quality to her voice, Chrissy studies Reggie, wondering whether she means it. Reggie’s chest and face are flushed, eyes dark, hands clasped together in front of her. Chrissy has to force herself not to stare at Reggie’s nipples, which are erect enough to see through her costume.
“And you look sexy as hell, as you well know, since I just made a fool of myself.” Chrissy chuckles, shaking her head at how obvious she is. “You make a pretty good queen. No doubt everyone will be fawning all over you. And, hey, I kind of look like a court jester.”
“As long as you’re my court jester,” Reggie says before walking out of the room. She looks back over her shoulder, a smirk on those dark red lips. “Ready to go?”
Blinking several times, Chrissy shuts off the light and hurries to follow. She fears tonight is going to test her ability to hide her feelings from anyone who sees her near Reggie. They get in the car and after a few minutes of silence, they ease into a conversation about work. “Any progress with the Hogan case?”
Reggie’s sigh is answer enough. “No. He won’t settle. Says he did nothing wrong. And now it sounds like he’s having marital problems. They’re staying at his in-laws to save money for a rental deposit. His wife is working overtime to supplement their income since they’re no longer receiving rental payments, and with the holidays around the corner, I’m afraid he might not be able to handle the pressure.”
“What do you mean?”
“He seems angrier and more desperate each time we speak. I don’t know how else to help him other than to do my best to limit his liability.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could help.” Chrissy reaches over to cover Reggie’s hand where it rests on the center console between their seats. She squeezes it and starts to pull away, but Reggie turns her hand over and interlaces their fingers. Holy shit! She’s holding my hand. Is this a normal friend thing? Is this a signal that we’re more than friends? What should I do? Chrissy sits still, staring straight ahead as she attempts to regulate her breathing. Her heartbeats are so loud in her ears, she nearly misses Reggie’s next statement.
“Thank you,” Reggie says, her voice soft. “You help more than you think.”
Their hands remain clasped throughout the ride, and Chrissy wishes they were driving farther than to Cambridge. Like to Los Angeles. When Reggie lets go to park the car once they reach the Freedmans’ house, Chrissy immediately misses the warmth of her hand. The best she can do is shove her own in her coat pockets and follow Reggie into the party, hoping she’ll get to hold Reggie’s hand again. Soon.
Chapter Seven
Padding over to Ben’s bedroom, Chrissy taps on the door, waiting a few moments before opening it. “Rise and shine. Are you coming with me for a jog?” It’s only six in the morning, but he’s used to her waking him up this early during the week. She flicks the light on and looks over to see whether the lump in the bed is moving. It’s not. “Ben?” She pulls the blankets back so she can see his face. It’s flushed. Feeling his forehead, Chrissy frowns. He’s warm. “Ben?”
He struggles to open his eyes. They’re red and watery. “Mom, I don’t feel good.”
“I can tell. What’s wrong?”
“My throat hurts. And I’m all stuffed up. It’s hard to breathe.”
“That doesn’t sound good. You’re staying home. Let me make some phone calls.” The fact that he doesn’t argue confirms he feels awful. Chrissy detours to the bathroom to wash her hands before getting her phone from her bedroom. She calls the school first to report his absence. After leaving a message on their automated service, Chrissy calls his doctor, leaving a message. She’s afraid he might have the flu and wants to check on medicine dosages. With a sigh, she resigns herself to missing work. She leaves a message with the call service at the firm before sending a text message to Reggie. Modern technology is great, but it doesn’t cut down on the number of phone calls she has to make when Ben’s sick.
She returns to his room with a glass of water, a roll of toilet paper, and the thermometer. Her heart hurts when she hears his sniffling. “Let’s prop you up a bit.” She helps him sit up, watching him do an impression of loose spaghetti by slumping forward, and she arranges a few pillows behind him. He sits back, and she uses her fingers to brush his hair away from his eyes. He looks a mess.
“Thanks. That helps.” He delivers a wan smile that breaks Chrissy’s heart.
“Good. Let’s take your temperature so I can tell your doctor whether you have a fever when she calls back. Keep it under your tongue until it beeps.” Chrissy sits on the bed near his hip, thinking about what needs to happen next. She doesn’t like to give Ben medicine unless it’s essential. She’d rather he fight the infection naturally. Hearing the beep, Chrissy reads the results. “Hm. One-oh-one. That’s not too high. It means your body’s fighting it.” She hands him the glass of water and watches him drink from it before she gets up. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Okay. Why don’t you go back to sleep. After I speak to your doctor, I’ll run out to get some things to help you.”
“Aren’t you going to work?” Ben twists the blanket between his fingers, not looking up.
Chrissy smiles at how worried he looks. “No, sweetie. I have ten sick days a year, and I only used two of them last year. It’s not a big deal to take the day off.”
/> “Okay.” He pulls the blanket up over his shoulder and closes his eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
Pulling the door closed, Chrissy makes her way to the kitchen and washes her hands before putting water in a pan to boil. She sits at the table, staring into space. It’s a week before Thanksgiving, and the meteorologist has forecast snow for today. Commuting during the winter months can be challenging. Although she loves snow, it’s not fun when she has to walk through slush and watch out for black ice. The water rolls and she turns off the stove, gathering what she needs to make tea. She’s not hungry, but she makes toast, munching on it. Ben starts coughing and she winces in sympathy. Her phone rings after she finishes her small breakfast. It’s the doctor’s office.
“Hello. This is Chrissy.”
“Hi. This is Doctor Jameson. I’m returning your call about your son.”
“Yes. Thank you for calling back so quickly. He has a fever of a hundred and one, is coughing, has a stuffy head, and his throat hurts.”
“How was he yesterday?”
“He was fine. A lot more energy. His eyes were clear, and he wasn’t coughing.”
“Sounds like he may have the flu. It comes on quickly. You can give him some acetaminophen or ibuprofen for the fever and body aches to make him more comfortable. Lots of fluids and rest will help him. A hot shower may help clear his sinuses. Cough drops and chamomile tea will help his throat. If he’s coughing so much he can’t rest, you may want to consider giving him antihistamines. Try to get him to eat. Call me if his fever spikes or he seems to be getting worse after a few days.”
Chrissy jots down what she says. “Okay. Thank you.”
Chrissy pokes her head in Ben’s room. He’s asleep, mouth open and drool dripping down his chin. Chrissy grabs her keys and locks the door on her way out. Instead of her usual morning run, she keeps her head down against the wind gusts and walks to the drug store in record time. Grabbing orange juice, tissues, cough drops, mint tea, and a box of antihistamines, she decides to see how he’s feeling later before buying more food. Once she returns home, she puts everything away before checking on Ben again. He’s still asleep.
At a bit after eight, Chrissy’s phone rings. Her heart speeds up when Reggie’s name flashes across the screen. “Hello?”
“I just got your text that Ben’s sick.”
“Yeah. The doctor thinks he has the flu. He’s sleeping, poor thing.”
“Are you all right?”
Chrissy’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m fine. I hardly ever get sick.”
Reggie hums. “Right. Come to think of it, I don’t remember you ever calling in sick. Well, don’t worry about anything here. I have a temp covering for you. Take tomorrow off, too.”
Grimacing, Chrissy tries not to feel distressed over being so easily replaced. She shakes her head, irritated with herself. She has no right to feel hurt. It’s a job, not a relationship. Reggie is being generous, something many bosses aren’t.
“Hey. I’d rather have you here. You know that, right?” Reggie’s soft voice assuages Chrissy’s insecurities.
“Yeah. Thanks, Reggie. I hope your day goes smoothly.”
“Thanks. I have the last Hogan deposition this morning. We go to trial in a few weeks.”
“Oh, that sucks. I can probably come in for a few hours. I suspect Ben will be sleeping all day.” I don’t trust that guy. Ben won’t mind if I go in for a few hours.
“No way. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Oh. All right.”
“I’ll talk to you later. Tell Ben I hope he feels better.”
“I will. Bye.” After they hang up, Chrissy sits at the kitchen table, staring at the phone. Although they haven’t spent any time outside of work since the Halloween party, they’re working toward something. Reggie touches her all the time, little brushes of her fingers on her arm, her shoulder, her back. Nothing unprofessional. It’s more to make a connection, and Chrissy’s reassured each time.
It’s hard for Chrissy to hold back from kissing Reggie, particularly after a night of dreaming about it. Not spending time together is the best deterrent she has, but she knows when given the opportunity, she’ll jump at the chance of being with Reggie outside of work again. Each day Chrissy’s becoming more certain Reggie returns her feelings, and each day she looks at the job postings, hoping to find an opening she can transfer to.
Hearing Ben stir, Chrissy pushes aside her musings and pokes her head in his room. “How are you feeling?”
“Gross,” Ben says, groaning as he rubs his eyes.
“I want you to take a hot shower. It will help you breathe. I’ll change your bed sheets and make you some breakfast.”
“I don’t want—”
“I know. I know. But you need to keep hydrated. Some tea will soothe your throat, and toast will keep your stomach satisfied. I won’t force you to have more than that until later. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Chrissy watches Ben climb out of bed, and she clasps her hands together so she won’t reach out to him. She’s watched him become more independent this year, learning the hard way not to offer help unless he wants it. Sometimes, she slips up, like that time last month when he was trying to file some documents for Reggie. She doesn’t know who was more embarrassed—him for her attempt to step in to help, or her when he snapped at her. They had a long talk that night, coming to the agreement that he would ask when he needs help. So far, they’ve both kept to the understanding.
As he begins to shuffle past her, Ben stops and leans in, resting his head on her shoulder for a minute. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispers, and Chrissy gives him a quick hug before he continues toward the bathroom. Once she hears the door close, she gets to work changing the bedding. She shoves the used sheets in the laundry basket then prepares his breakfast. By the time he leaves the bathroom, his eyes are brighter and he’s breathing through his nose.
“How do you feel?”
“Better.” He sits down, his head propped on one hand. “Tired though.”
“Have this and then you can go back to bed.”
“Okay.” Ben munches his toast while Chrissy sips her tea. “What did Reggie say?”
“She hopes you feel better. She’ll call me later. She gave me tomorrow off, too, so you don’t need to worry.”
“You two seem closer.”
“Ben.” He must be feeling better if he’s back on this subject. The problem with these conversations is how she becomes hopeful. It’s dangerous for her. What if I make my interest clear and she rebuffs my advances? So far, all their flirting can be explained away. It’s true they’ve toed the line more often over the last month, but she wants to be as sure as possible before she reveals her heart.
“Come on, Mom. You can’t deny it. I saw you two yesterday at work. She was checking you out.”
Shaking her head, Chrissy is quick to reject his words. “I doubt it. She’s too professional to ever do something like that at work.”
“She’s also a human being who likes you. Have you seen any new jobs posted?”
“No, but Cathy mentioned a position might be opening up soon on her floor.”
“That’s great. You can apply and after you get it, you can ask Reggie out on a proper date.”
“Whoa. Hold on there, kid. There’s no guarantee I’ll get the position, never mind the huge question mark of whether Reggie would date me.”
“Mom, be brave.” Ben stares at her with so much hope, Chrissy can’t help but smile. “You know, she told me about the holiday party. Are you going?”
Dipping her head forward, Chrissy sighs. She wants to go—of course she does—but she doesn’t want to leave Ben alone. That’s why she missed the party last year. “I’m not sure.”
“Why? It’s at her house. Don’t you want to see it?”
“You know I do, but I haven’t made a decision, yet.” Chrissy picks up his empty plate and places it in the sink. “Off to bed with you, sicko.”
“At least tell me you�
��ve thought about my idea for her Christmas present.”
“I have, and I like it. We’ll start working on it next week, if you’re feeling better.”
“Yes!” Ben throws his fist in the air, a smile splitting his face. “All the big sales start next week. She’ll love it.”
“Of course, she will. Now…”
“Off to bed. I know.” Ben leaves without any more stalling, his body slouched and his feet sliding over the floor. Chrissy barely keeps herself from following, knowing he’d rather she not hover. It’s a near thing, though. He’s still her little boy.
Chrissy uses the time to clean. Rolling up the sleeves of her red and black flannel shirt, she wipes down the counters and kitchen table then washes the few dirty dishes by hand. After everything is spotless, she empties the dishwasher and places all the kitchenware where they belong. It takes all of ten minutes to finish the kitchen. The bathroom’s next.
The day passes second by snail second, but the apartment is sparkling by the time Ben drags himself out of bed in the early afternoon. Chrissy gives him some orange juice and scrambled eggs. He’s not coughing, but his eyes are glazed. He still feels warm, too.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m stuffed up, and my throat’s sore. And my head’s starting to hurt.”
“Take this glass of water. I got you some cough drops and tissues. You might want to take another shower later so you can clear your head. The doctor said it was okay to give you some medicine.” He makes a face, and she smiles. “I know. Only if you really need it. I want you to get more rest.”
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