Cassian

"When will you pop the question?" Jake asks.

Annoyed, I glance up from my paperwork. A retort sits on my tongue, but I hold it back. From the countless times I harassed Jake and Gemma during their wedding celebrations, I deserve some revenge harassment.

Jake knows it, too.

I can tell by his shit-eating grin.

"So?" he presses.

I break the eraser from my pen off. Then I toss it at him. It misses his forehead, but not by much.

A costly action. Erasable pens aren't cheap. So worth it, though. Even if I missed hitting him with it. 

"It's too soon. I'm not asking Pen to marry me yet. Some of us like to wait more than a year before marrying."

Jake snorts. "I've known Gemma since elementary school."

As much as I want to bring up the past just to spite him, I don't. Jake should've never gotten another chance with Gemma after the stunt he pulled in high school. I'm not saying I'm not happy for Jake. As time passed, he developed into a better person. But sometimes redemption isn't enough to remedy our past actions. Lucky for Jake, Gemma gave him another chance. Besides, I love seeing Gemma put Jake in his place. 

"Why are you in my office?" I frown. "You have your own."

That's a partial lie. Jake's office is undergoing renovations. Now that the ball is rolling with Elemental Coffee, we've been able to increase the budget for office maintenance. So far, Penelope's gotten her own office. The conference room is fresh with recent paint and furniture, and they have remodelled the washrooms. My office'll be next. We felt it would be smarter to renovate them within different time frames. That way, we wouldn't be occupying the conference room. Imagine meeting in an untidy conference room.

Yeah, no thanks.

Right now, Jake is crammed in the corner. He's working from the couch, with a slim folding table in front. There's a stack of folders to his right, along with some pens and pencils. His laptop, iPhone, water bottle, and some picture frames consume the rest of the space. Stacks of Jake's boxes are in the far corner of my office, contrasting against the dark grey paint. The rest of his furniture is in a storage unit until next week, when the renovations are complete. Then mine will replace it. Once office renovations are complete, we'll renovate the coffee shop downstairs. 

Jake gives me a look. Again. "Hilarious, Cass. Have you finished the proposal for Victoria and Nelson?"

I snort. He's phrased the question as if Victoria and Nelson are people, which they aren't. It sounds strange. 

After success in West Kelowna, we want to further expand business to Victoria and Nelson. Partnering with Tessa has proven to be useful. People love supporting local businesses, hometown or provincial. We find that combining both provincial and hometown draws in the crowd. We're submitting proposals to a local farm in Nelson and an Indigenous-run bakery in Victoria. Nelson seems like a stretch due it its location, but plenty of tourists visit during the year because of the endless outdoor activities like hiking and skiing. Victoria is a straightforward decision. Living in Saanich, we're close to Victoria. It just seems right to open another coffee shop on the Island.

I glance down at my papers. My eyes feel like they're crossing. I've been bent over these proposals all morning. Although Penelope managed the budgeting and other important numbers, I'm having difficulty writing the persuasion portion. When doing so, you need to find a balance. You want to convince the reader, but you don't want to make it sound like you're shoving your idea down their throat.

It makes me feel like I'm back at university, writing those stupid essays again. The only difference is I'm representing our business. No pressure.

Right?

Fuck no. 

Setting my red pen down, I lean back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. "I need a coffee," I say.

"Grab me one, too, please," Jake adds. "You didn't answer my question. We need those done today."

It's my turn to shoot Jake a look. "Come on, man." I grab my red pen and dangle it in the air, despite its missing eraser. "I'm using my red pen. It's obvious I'm editing. There are just some... some sentences that need to be rephrased. They sound a little too aggressive."

"You'll figure it out," Jake replies.

Tossing my pen down, I climb to my feet and stretch out my sore muscles. Last night's spin class with Pen wasn't easy. We have a friendly competition during each spin class. We compare who's burned more calories or travelled the longest distance. After, we go out for drinks. Whoever lost has to buy the drinks. It's a fun, healthy competition. We fuel each other. As competitive people, we make each other work harder in the spin classes. 

Even if Penelope kicks my ass every time. I think she's bought drinks once.

"The usual?" I ask Jake.

He doesn't look up from his laptop, but he does nod. "Please."

I take a moment to look at my best friend. He looks tired. There are purple half-moons beneath his eyes. The stubble along his jaw is rough, as if he hasn't shaved for a week. Even his navy-blue button-up looks wrinkled.

A pang of sympathy hits my chest. Poor guy. Although he'll have a baby to look after, I hope Gemma giving birth eases some of the stress. The other day, he fell down the Internet rabbit hole. Now he's worried Gemma will die during the birthing process or get a severe infection if she needs a C-section.

I feel bad for Jake, but he also needs to get over himself. Jake needs to put faith in the medical system. The nurses will do whatever they can to keep Gemma and the baby safe. Plus, there's nothing he can do to help Gemma aside from standing by her side. Offer support. It's not fair to women. It's not fair to men who care. But it's the route that life chose. As far as I know, Jake won't let Gemma get out of bed for three weeks. He'll wake up with the baby at night, change diapers, et cetera. Just like a man should. When you create life out of love, contribution is required. Gemma didn't make the baby by herself, nor did any other pregnant woman.

You never know how long a relationship will last, but if Penelope and I make it that far, I'll make sure the stereotypical roles are broken, too. Should fate step in and drive us apart, the efforts will still be fifty-fifty.

But I'm just expressing my opinions.

Nothing's set in stone. Would I like to marry Pen and have babies with her? Yes. But you can never predict the future. Living in the now is all we can do. That's the truth. 

So, instead of fretting over my thought patterns, I gather my wallet and exit my office. Penelope's office is just down the hallway, so I decide to stop there. Might as well see if she wants a coffee, too.

Our office building is above the first coffee shop we opened. It's convenient, especially now that we've partnered with a local deli. We get a discount on sandwiches and get to enjoy our locally brewed coffees.

Raising my fist, I tap my knuckles against the door to Penelope's office.

"Come in!"

When I enter her office, I'm welcomed by the scent of basil and lemon. It's Penelope's favourite candle. She always has it burning when she's in office. Speaking of Penelope's office... it's simplistic. The walls are a creamy grey with white baseboards. Her office furniture is a sleek greyish-brown colour, reminding me of driftwood. She has a large nesting chair in the far corner. Next to it is a mini-fridge. The rest of the space is occupied by her desk and chair, as well as some tropical plants. All the accents are black with a hint of rose-gold. Pictures decorate the walls.

I love her pictures.

They display every memory close to her heart. My favourite is the photo of Pen and me when we're snowshoeing at Telemark in West Kelowna.

"Cassian," she smiles. "What's up?"

Today, Pen's hair falls around her shoulders in soft curls. She's wearing black pants, a white tank top, and a mahogany-coloured suit jacket. A gold pendant hangs around her neck. Despite her fancy attire, I can bet a million dollars she's wearing her black Nike runners. Pen only wears heels for special occasions, which I think is smart. Heels look like hell as shoes. Props to any woman who can handle them or who likes them, but I know I could never.

"Heading downstairs to grab some coffee and food. Want anything?"

Pen taps a painted nail against her bottom lip. Her lips match her jacket.

My lips twist to the side. I know that look. Pen's trying to decide if she wants to try something new or go with her usual beet salad.

She'll go for the latter. Making Pen try new foods at places she regularly goes is impossible.

"Beet salad," she sighs. "Those candied pecans and that balsamic dressing is addictive. Oat milk latte, too, please."

"Noted," I smile. "See you in ten."

The overall process of gathering three drinks and three food items—a beet salad for Pen and two vegetarian sandwiches for Jake and I—takes twenty minutes. Our original location is always the busiest. People gravitate towards the original location, which I understand. The authenticity is fun to experience.

I drop Jake's food off first, also leaving mine behind. Then I saunter down the Pen's office. The door is open, but she's not there. Assuming she's run to the washroom, I stick her food in the mini-fridge and place her drink on her desk.

Before leaving, I contemplate jotting down a quick note. That idea is forgotten. Seeing her drink will be enough. Pen will check the mini-fridge. She's smart. 

Halfway down the hallway, I notice the door to the conference room is open. Stopping in the middle, I frown, rubbing my jaw. Unless Jake forgot to inform me of a meeting, I'm not sure why the door is open.

Pushing through, I see Penelope. She had the cleaning caddy from the janitorial closet. She's wiping down the conference table. At first, I wonder why she's cleaning it. Then I notice the thin layer of dust across the sleek, long table. The dark wood makes the dust pop in the rays of sunshine shining through. With all the recent upgrades, the dust has been disgusting. We can't keep up with it. 

Crossing my arms, I lean against the doorway and watch.

Pen's leaning over the table, giving me a prime view of her curves. Goddamn. She looks good in those pants.

An idea pops into my head. Pen's bold with sex, and in a relationship, keeping things interesting is important. With all the demolition going on, no one will hear us. Our schedule is empty.

My idea is inappropriate for work. Pen will kill me, but we both know she loves it when I'm inappropriate. Besides, she's got a mouth on her, too. Especially when she's hot and bothered.

I step into the conference room and lock the door behind me.

"Now I see why someone was missing from their office."

Pen jumps. The cloth she's using slips from her hand.

I meet her shocked expression with a grin.

If she's willing, we're gonna have a helluva good time.