Most people would have added a heart emoji of some sort. Maybe a dancing kitten. Instead, Warrick sent a photo of a sticky note on his messy desk with a big red heart scribbled clumsily in thick marker.
It was genuinely the most romantic thing anyone had ever sent me.
4
WARRICK
Ikept promising myself I'd stop sleeping at the lab, but at five a.m. there was no point in going home.
After I sent my latest results and notes to my researchers and techs, I crashed out hard. Instead of my usual broken sleep, my mind was pulled completely under, filled with vivid dreams, all centered around Brooke.
When my eyes snapped open after six hours of the most restful sleep I'd had in ages, I felt transformed.
After a quick shower, I stepped directly into the lab, where some thoughtful assistant had left a mug of coffee on my desk. The heart I'd drawn for Brooke last night was next to it. Slipping it into a drawer, I wasn't even embarrassed that my staff may have seen it.
Thatwas what was different. I was no longer some guy drowning in work and avoiding social interactions with anyone I couldn't talk about my projects with.
I was a man with a girlfriend.
Sipping my coffee as I walked from station to station to check on everyone's progress, I realized I had to confirm that statement for validity. There was a woman I wanted to be in a relationship with. But one night of dancing and kissing didn't automatically confer girlfriend status.
Never assume.
The new experiments on the two materials that I'd been trying to bond for some time showed promising early results. Tonight I simply had to get Brooke and I to bond too, and become a real couple.
Her lovely, sweet face hovered in my subconscious, giving me a moment to envision her. When I went to refill my mug, I allowed myself to recall the sensation of her lips against mine. The way she felt in my arms.
My head jerked up as I realized I needed to romance her. I couldn't just show her the lab and go to dinner.
My reflection in the microwave caught my eye. Holy crap. Did I really look like that? It was bad enough that I was dangerously close to forty. My gorgeous girl couldn't be seen with someone who looked so scruffy. I had a multi-million dollar corporation with dozens of subsidiaries, for God’s sake.
I went back to my desk, sipping my coffee. I had a massive office at the far end of the space, but I preferred to be close enough to hear the researchers' "Aha!" or "Dammit!" exclamations when something went wonderfully right or terribly wrong.
Darryl approached with one of his many interns in tow. "Warrick, is now a good time to discuss the recent launch?"
It was difficult not to roll my eyes. Cedar Industries had thousands of projects and products – there was something new launching in some division almost every week. Not a big deal anymore.
"Sure. But could I please have the short version?"
Darryl smiled. He'd been with me for years, and understood that I didn't care about the money, only the challenge of the work. Lately he'd been checking in a lot more frequently though, seemingly growing more and more excited about my bizarre wealth.
"Of course. That line of new connectors in the transit sector is selling five times as well as we expected. Between the orders from airlines, and, surprisingly, motorcycle companies, the company is seeing massive returns." He lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper, "Your personal wealth has just jumped significantly due to the latest round of patents. Shall I tell you the numbers?"
Shaking my head, I had to brush my hair out of my eyes. "No, that's fine."
Looking at the intern, an idea formed. "Who cuts your hair?"
He blinked in surprise. "Oh. Um. My cousin Susan down at Barry's on Birch Street."
My fingers drummed on the desk. "What do you call those people who pick out clothes for you and…put you together better?"
The intern gave me the smile I was quite accustomed to when someone thought I was a bit nuts, but entertaining. "Like a personal stylist?"
"Yeah. Can you please find me one of those immediately?"
5
BROOKE