I felt my cheeks flush and knew they had darkened by the teasing light in Kane’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m giving him my two-week notice on Monday.”
Kane turned suddenly serious. “You’re quitting because of this? He can’t fire you because of what you choose to do during your free time.”
“It’s not that,” I said, wondering if I could confide in him. Maybe Kane could be the friend I needed. Taking the chance, I shrugged. “I decided to quit before this happened.”
“Why? Are you having problems with him at work?”
I looked at him and studied his earnest expression. “I know you don’t know a lot about me. No one here really does.”
He shrugged. “You’re a private person, and we respect that here.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know, which only makes it harder to make friends with people. Anyway, it’s just that my need to serve isn’t something I can turn on and off, you know. It’s all tangled up with how I show affection, even outside of the club.”
Kane’s lips fell open as understanding dawned. “He does it for you, doesn’t he?”
“In every way,” I admitted. I studied my hands and then told him more than I’d ever told anyone besides Dr. Henson. “My parents have a lot of money and decided having a child would fit their image. Raising me, however, wasn’t a part of that plan. Nannies and servants took care of me my entire childhood. It’s why I associate service with love and affection. When I got older, I tried showing my parents love through service, and it was… well, let’s just say having their son act like a servant wasn’t what they wanted from me.” I looked at Kane and sighed at the sympathy in his gaze. It gave me the courage to continue. “I find myself doing the same things for… him. It’s not good for me, trying to serve someone who doesn’t want or need it.”
“And you’re sure it wouldn’t work…?”
I leaned into him. “He’s straight, Kane.”
“I mean, you never know. I just figured hanging out with that group…” He had the grace to look sheepish. “I guess all us gays don’t just hang out with each other, huh?”
“Yeah, tell that to the leggy blonde I saw him leave the office with on Monday night.”
“Ouch, and that’s why straight men are a no-fly zone.”
“Yep,” I said with a hint of bitterness in my mouth. “I decided to get out before I got too… invested.”
“Well, if you’re quitting, why are you so worried about this guy? I mean, other than the obvious crush you have on him,” Kane teased.
I playfully slapped his shoulder. “Stop it. It’s not that he knows, it’s that he knows while also knowing a lot of other people. Word gets around town about his weird secretary, and then everyone knows about me. I would prefer to keep my private life just that, private.”
“You do choose to serve in a very public way,” he pointed out.
“I know. Seeing someone from my other life out there has always been something I’ve feared, but the benefits far outweigh the risks. I need this, Kane. I don’t know what I would do with myself without this place to come to and be me.”
“Then there you go,” he said, leaning back into me. “Besides, if your boss is half the man I suspect he is to have caught your attention, he’ll understand.”
“You think?”
“More importantly, what do you think? You know him better than I do.”
I sat back and thought about Mr. Chamberlain. Without the adrenaline and panic in my system, I could see a little clearer. “He’s very blunt, always saying exactly what he means. He’s very logical, almost calculating.” I smiled a little smile just thinking of him. “I’ve never heard him say an unkind word about anyone, and trust me, I’ve met a few people who would have deserved it while working there.” Chrissy Matheson to name one. Okay, that was mostly my jealousy talking—mostly.
Kane laughed. “So, that’s what does it for you? Cold, calculating, and blunt?”
“I hate you.”
Kane laughed even harder. “No, no, no, I know a few guys that would be perfect for you now that I know your type.” Laughing even more at my glare, he stood up, took my hand, and pulled me up with him. “Come on, let’s get you home. I have a feeling you’re going to be just fine, N. I’ll give you my number. Call me if things go south, and you need backup. Tell you what, call me anyway so I know you’re okay.”
Picking my bag up from the ground where it had fallen at some point, I looped the strap over my shoulder and then picked up my tray. Clutching it to my chest, I turned back to Kane. “My name is Quentin, by the way.”
Smiling, he reached up and patted my cheek. “You’re good people, N. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
I stood in front of the locked doors of Chamberlain, Reed & Thomas with my keys trembling in my hand, the heavy, insulated bag on my shoulder weighing me down.
I was so fucking predictable.
I was quitting today and learning whether or not Mr. Chamberlain would keep my confidence, and I’d still made him lunch. He seemed to enjoy my soups so much that today was chicken tortilla topped with diced avocado, shredded Monterey Jack cheese, a sprinkling of cilantro, and spicy tortilla strips—my favorite.
Adjusting the bag on my shoulder, I unlocked the door and stepped inside the office for what might be the last time. It was strange, I was used to being the first to arrive in the morning—the office opened at eight, but I liked to get in early so Mr. Chamberlain could have his coffee first thing when he arrived—but this morning the quiet was almost too much for me to bear.
I stopped by the break room first to drop off our lunch and start his morning coffee. As the machine brewed, I left, turning on all the lights as I made my way to my desk. I studied it as I dropped my bag into my chair. My desk was a large affair with a glass top and a walnut frame, and soon it wouldn’t be mine anymore. I felt something low in my belly twist at the thought of anyone else sitting there, but it was inevitable. Pushing those thoughts to the side, I turned on my computer and ran through my morning routine.
Done with that, I returned to the break room and Mr. Chamberlain’s coffee. I was making it a little earlier than usual. While I wasn’t ready to face him yet, I was unable to deny him his morning coffee. My plan was simple. I would drop his coffee off on his desk and then hide until he was here and working. Mr. Chamberlain was always punctual. I knew he’d be in his office at exactly eight-o-clock.
I rocked back and forth on my feet as the coffee machine seemed to take forever, but that was just my anxiety talking. The machine finally beeped. Turning around, I poured the coffee into his designated mug and then added the right amount of sugar and cream until it was the perfect shade of brown. I placed the cup on its saucer. Carefully picking it up, I made sure not to spill a single drop as I made the slow trek back to his office.
Stepping inside, I approached his desk and gently placed his coffee right where he needed it most. Looking around, I quickly reorganized his desk and cleaned up the clutter. I didn’t know how he did it, but at the end of each day, Mr. Chamberlain had always managed to leave every pen he owned scattered across the surface.