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"I usually don't give a fck, but you bother me, and I hate that you do."
"What do you plan to do about it, then?"
"What can I do about it?"
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When a devastating injury threatens the career of Terence Ti...
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I saw Terence yesterday and unlike the last time where he cooked for me, he just sat down in silence until our entire session was over. All the questions I asked were unanswered and all my gestures were unnoticed. Was I expecting anything? Maybe, yes, no, I don't know. But I sure as hell wasn't expecting him to go all quiet on me after making me such amazing food. And yes he was quiet, but he did make and pack me some food to take home. Until now no one has mastered the ability to confuse and put me in a place of uncertainty. But he has, and he does so every damn time we meet.
I'm packing some of my things to head to New York to physically see some of my clients. Most especially, most of the New York Rangers. But a stupid part of me is expecting some envelope to magically show up in the mailbox; since letters are how we now communicate. And so for the first time in all of history, I take my time to pack, slowly and steadily, and while a recently created delusional part of me expects a letter, an old realistic part of me knows better.
No expectations, just breathe.
My door swings open to reveal an erratic breathing Nadia. I raise a brow in question.
"There's a white older version of you in our living room." She manages to control her breathing and I raise another brow.
A white older version of- shit- Madam Beaufort. And I wondered when she was going to break and book a flight. Nadia gasps.
"Oh my God, that's her, that's Madam Beaufort? That's your dinner companion on those specific days? That's Madam Beaufort? What the hell?!"
"In the flesh, Nadia." I mumble as I continue to arrange my stuff.
"You're going to New York?" She asks and I respond with a nod. "Didn't you check your emails?" Now I shoot her a confused look. What is happening with my life?
"And why did you check my emails?"
"Your laptop was open and you'd fallen asleep." She explains and I rush over to my laptop.
"There's an email from Donovan that says he has everything covered with your clients and he would love you to focus on Terence Tiles." Nadia narrates as I open the email. It's right there, exactly everything she just said.
So I can't escape him. I'm stuck here for the next six months. Fucking Donovan. Fucking Madam Beaufort. The universe is really not in my favor this time around, it has never been and it never will be.
I shut my laptop and I turn to face her. Her face breaks out into a grin. "That means you're stuck with me the whole month."
"May I ask why?"
"The Krakens have more home games this month and since most of my clients are on the team, I get to see you the whole month."
"Now isn't that wonderful." I say through my teeth, hoping to the gods of the universe that she gets the sarcasm in my tone.
