Chaelisa | Lisa G!P
Lisa Manoban lives life the way she wants, no concern for the opinion of others. She cares for no one, is completely unrepentant, and she has no desire to change her ways.
Roseanne Park works under Lisa as her PA. She despises he...
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I slid my key in the lock, entering the condo quietly. I was shocked to realize how much I had missed being home. How much I had missed Roseanne.
I found myself texting her, checking she was okay, that Penny was well, or she remembered to lock the condo door. Her return texts made me smile, always a little cheeky and sweet. She had adored the cheesecake, telling me how the staff all dove in and helped her and Penny eat it. She found it amusing I had also sent a fruit arrangement for Joey’s snack. When she mentioned Penny seemed more tired than usual, I had phoned the home to check up on her twice, making Sana chuckle at my worry.
I had to laugh at myself. It seemed, even without trying, Roseanne's presence in my life brought forth more emotion all the time.
I should hate it, yet somehow, I didn’t.
I was anxious to get home, see her, visit Penny, and get back to the office. When the client had agreed sooner than expected to our pitch, we had both agreed to head home early and caught the last flight out. The cab dropped me off, Graham laughing at my exuberance as I grabbed my case.
“I don’t expect to see you in the office first thing, Lisa. Enjoy the morning with Rosie. I’ll see you in the afternoon.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
I put down my case, flicked on the light, and froze.
I wasn’t in the same room I left days earlier. The bold claret color Roseanne had picked out now graced the massive wall around the fireplace and highlighted the wood mantle. The cream of the other walls was rich and attractive. She had added some cushions, the two chairs she had shown me, and the result of the transformation made it warm and inviting. Homey.
The biggest surprise was the artwork she had hung. She had used some of the prints she found, but on the red wall, she had some of my photographs, printed, double-matted, and framed. I was stunned by how great they looked and amazed she had chosen my favorite ones to use. The entire room looked spectacular.
I ran my hand over the curve of the chairs she’d added. They were strong pieces. The effect was still modern, yet softened by what she had created. On the mantle was a picture of us, taken by Jenna on our wedding day. I picked it up, studying the candid photograph. Roseanne was smiling into the lens, her face almost glowing. My forehead rested on hers, and I was smiling. We both looked happy. Like a couple in love. I ran my finger over her image, unsure of the odd sensation in my chest.
Placing it back on the mantle, I picked up my bag and climbed the stairs. In my doorway, I stopped, surprised to see Roseanne asleep in my bed. I was sure she would have moved back into her own room by now. She hugged my pillow, her hands fisted in the material as she slumbered, her blonde hair a wave of golden behind her on the crisp, white sheets. I studied her as she slept. She looked young and vulnerable. I remembered thinking she was weak. She was anything but. Knowing her now the way I did, I knew she had a core of steel —without it, she’d have folded up long ago — yet she hadn’t.
