I don’t remember whose idea it was to have a happy hour on location after the press conference, but it’s the best idea of the year.
The show is over. Vincent’s speech went smoothly. As expected, the reporters were eating out of his palm from the start. There wasn’t a single question raised that we hadn’t prepared for. And once the news of Marie’s House was announced, all attention shifted to the new non-profit. A handsome-as-sin man spending millions on housing for homeless women and families? Say no more.
Shutting my eyes, I lean against the wall and finish off my second glass of wine.
The work part of today went perfectly. The rest of it, not so much. I’m still rattled from being told off by an 11-year-old girl. Seriously, what the hell was I supposed to say? Lie and tell her I’m not involved with her father? Admit that I like him but try to explain that I don’t want his money? She wouldn’t believe me. And she wasn’t really waiting for me to answer, she just wanted to get it off her chest.
And what about Vincent? As I continue to replay the scene in my mind, I go back and forth on whether or not to tell him. I’m currently on no. No, I won’t tell him. She’s just a kid who’s worried about her dad. I was hoping she was too young to pick up on the overwhelming sexual vibes between Vincent and myself on the day she burst into his office, but of course I couldn’t be so lucky. And I’m sure seeing Vincent’s arm around me earlier tonight didn’t help either.
I had a single parent growing up. My mom had a few serious boyfriends and I remember how stressed I’d get every time she brought someone new home. What if I didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like me? What if my mom started to love him more than me? What if I got left behind?
I pinch my eyes shut even tighter and take a deep breath. Sometimes I can think about my mom without getting sad. Sometimes I can’t.
“Sasha.”
My eyes open at Vincent’s soft tone. His face is so close and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch him.
“You did a nice job up there today,” I say with a smile that feels forced.
“Come on.” He nods towards the elevators and starts to walk.
Too tired to argue, I push off the wall and find a table to set my empty wine glass on. I catch up to him right as the elevator doors open. It’s not until the elevator starts to move that I realize we’re headed down, rather than up.
“Uh, Vincent? Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“You’re giving me a ride home?”
The doors open to the private parking level. “You’re coming home with me.”
He steps out and I’m once again left chasing him. Am I drunker than I thought? I’m positive that we didn’t talk about this earlier. I wouldn’t have forgotten.
Vincent stops next to an expensive looking black sports car. “My mom has Annie for the night. I’d like you to come over.”
“Vincent…”
He opens the passenger door. “You looked sad standing there. Come home with me and I promise to make you feel better.”
“Okay.” I whisper.
Later, I can blame the wine for my easy acceptance.
Vincent’s eyes flash with victory. “Good girl. Now get your ass in the car.”
