Page 85 of Trials of a One Night Stand
Watching her work, I take a sip of the cappuccino. Not bad, but I prefer whatever Zelda orders for me. I’ll have to find out what that is.
The woman sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. I know that feeling.
“Excuse me,” I find myself saying before I can stop myself. “Are you working on something important?”
Her eyes open. She looks at me, startled. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m finishing up a big project for work. Deadline’s tomorrow. It’s been a long day and will be an even longer night.”
I nod, an idea forming. “Sounds stressful. You know, if you needed to take some time off, focus on other things, I know some people. I can help you find a less demanding job.”
The woman’s eyebrows practically shoot up to her hairline. “Excuse me?”
“I just mean, you seem stressed. Wouldn’t you rather have a job that gives you more free time? More flexibility?”
She stares at me for a long moment, then bursts out laughing. “Are you kidding me? I love my job. Yeah, it’s stressful sometimes, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
I blink, taken aback. “But don’t you want to relax? To not have to worry about deadlines and projects?”
She shakes her head, still chuckling. “Worry is part of the job, dude. It’s also part of what makes it exciting. Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”
As she returns to her work, I’m left reeling. Is this how Jayne feels? Does she actually like the stress and the challenges of her job?
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over her number. I should call her and explain myself better. But what would I say?
Instead, I open a search engine. How to support a pregnant partner, I type, feeling slightly ridiculous. I’m a CEO with a PhD, for crying out loud. I should know how to handle this.
But as I scroll through the results, I see a pattern.
Listen to her needs.
Respect her decisions.
Offer support, but don’t try to take control.
Wait. Take control.
Isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing? Trying to plan out our entire future without even asking what Jayne wants? It’s what I did with Sam and Hildy. I even tried with Zelda when I decided it was time for us to start a family. Fuck, I’ve done it my whole life.
Thanks, Mom and Dad.
I groan, letting my head fall into my hands. I’ve really screwed this up, haven’t I?
“Rough day?” a woman asks.
I look up to see the barista giving me a sympathetic smile as she wipes down a nearby table.
“You could say that,” I mutter.
She nods toward the untouched smoothie in front of me. “Waiting for someone?”
I glance at Jayne’s drink and feel a pang of guilt. “I was. But I messed things up.”
The barista shrugs. “Well, you know what they say. When you mess up, fess up.”
I stare at her, then at my phone, then back at Jayne’s smoothie. The barista’s right. I need to talk to Jayne. Really talk to her, not at her. And more importantly, I need to listen.
As I stand, picking up the two cups, nervousness mixes with determination. I don’t have all the answers because it’s not just about me anymore. But maybe that’s the first step to figuring this out—together.
A few minutes later, I stand outside Jayne’s door again, balancing the cups in one hand as I ring the doorbell with the other. My heart’s racing, and I’m not sure if it’s from nervousness or the caffeine I drank.
