We enter a roomy loft above the garage. There are plenty of big windows to let in the light, and two large work stations with laptops and filing cabinets spilling over with papers.
Kylie thrusts her arms out proudly. "Welcome to the world headquarters of Highpoint Associates." She picks up a bottle and a baby rattle from the desk. "Seriously. Sorry about this. I would have cleaned up if I’d known you were coming."
"Trust me, it’s fine. I’m just happy to have a change of scenery. I’ve been cooped up at Colton’s for weeks and I’ve been going a bit stir crazy."
"Wow. You live with him? That’s…that’s…huge…" She turns to me, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "And that house is freakin’ incredible."
Interesting. She’s been inside his home and seems to understand that him having a woman living with him is a big step. “It is,” I manage.
I find it both fascinating and utterly frustrating that Marta and now Kylie seem to possess intimate knowledge about Colton. He must not be as discreet as his seems with his affections. His restraint is only reserved for me. Of course I have no way of knowing if Kylie has actually slept with him, but the faraway look in her eyes tells me she’s daydreaming of some memorable encounter with him. Oddly, it makes me want to hit something.
Fantastic.
I shrug it off. "So, what’s on the docket today?"
"Right." She gives her head a shake, pushing away the thought. "First I’m going to give you an overview of the work we’ve done so far, and then I’ll explain what I’m hoping to accomplish next. You can be involved in any part of it that sounds interesting to you."
I nod. "Sounds good."
I listen while she explains, in more detail than Colton provided, about their mission to create a stable self-sustaining community in a sub-Saharan part of rural Africa. His vision is much more complex than just to provide clothing, food and medicine to people in need, like he’d humbly led me to believe. He wanted to do something bigger — something the residents could sustain long after he and his generous donations were gone. It’s quite a bit more sophisticated than I ever imagined and I’m impressed. No wonder he’s so busy.
He has a team of city planners, architects, engineers, teachers and doctors who are working together to drill for fresh, clean drinking water, plant crops and teach the local people about agriculture and farming as well as building a school for the children to ensure the next generation is prepared to lead. What Kylie is describing is a massive undertaking. He’s essentially creating an entire community from the ground up. I get goosebumps listening to her speak and I’m suddenly really glad I didn’t find a job at a coffee shop — this is much more worthwhile to devote my time to.
At the end of her explanation, Kylie provides an overview of the pertinent files on the laptop I’ll be using. "I’m so glad you’re here." She grins widely at me, showing off twin-dimples that make her look younger. "God, Stella was crazypants." Just then the baby monitor squawks and she jumps up from her seat. "Be right back."
She leaves me to work on creating mailing labels and to type up a letter to the additional investors Colton’s secured. My head is spinning and the work is a needed distraction.
* * *
After our erotic shower encounter, my relationship with Colton takes on a new meaning, changing in a subtle, but noticeable way. He texts me during the day while he’s at work and calls once he’s on his way home.
I’ve been working several days a week with Kylie, driving myself to her suburban home in one of Colton’s cars. It’s nice to feel like I’m making a contribution to something, and now that Colton and I are actually clicking, I feel a lot better about my situation.
He called at lunchtime today, sounding melancholy, which is completely out of character for him. I’d pressed him about what was wrong and he just said that it was a tough day and that he was looking forward to coming home.
At six o’clock, the house staff has been gone for hours and I’m anxiously awaiting his call to tell me he’s on his way home. I can’t wait to surprise him.
Finally my cell phone rings and I prance across the kitchen to retrieve it from the island. "Hello?"
"I’m on my way," he says, his voice flat and emotionless.
"Okay," I squeak. It will be my mission to cheer him up once he arrives.
When Colton arrives home thirty minutes later, I’m ready for him. I took special care getting ready too, taking an extra-long soak in the tub and shaving nearly every square inch of my body, and then prepared a special meal for him. It was the only thing I could think to do when I learned he was having a bad day, it’s the same thing my mom used to make me when I needed comforting.
I meet him by the back door. His suit is rumpled and his expression is sour. When his gaze lifts to mine, his face softens, but I can see something is weighing on him and the need to help bubbles up inside of me.
"Did something happen at work?" I ask, helping him out of his jacket.
He tosses the garment onto the waiting bench. He does this every night and they miraculously end up freshly laundered and back in his closet. I don’t even think he realizes it.
"Sort of," he says without meeting my eyes.
I hate the defeated expression on his handsome face.
"I’m good listener. You can tell me things, you know?”
He gives me a sad, contemplative smile.
“You can trust me," I assure him.
"I know. But when I get home, talking about my day is usually the last thing I want to do."
I nod. I know the feeling well. When Becca was sick, friends would encourage me to talk about it, and even though I appreciated the gesture, I knew talking about it would only bring all my worries and fears to the surface. Best to keep them locked away. So while I understood him, it made me even more curious about what could be troubling him.
"I made you dinner," I say.
"You cooked?" he asks, his voice lifting in uncertainty.