✿ Reid's POV

It takes me a few seconds to realize I haven’t pressed the button to the ground floor after I’ve stepped into the elevator. That explains why the doors have slid close, but I’m not moving. I hit 'G' and feel the elevator begin to lower.

For the second time in less than a week, I hadn’t slept well. Just when I've managed to limit my thoughts about Aileen, I'm hit with constant muscle pain, chills, chest and sinus pressure, and constant fatigue.

The elevator dings and the doors open. I step out of the building towards an SUV with darkly tinted windows and my driver opens the back door. He stands beside it, waiting for me to get in, before shutting it. I groan and lean back, shutting my eyes to ease the pain in my head.

“Where to, boss?” Don asks.

“Work” I struggle to reply.

“Are you alright, Mr. Dalton?”

I roll my head up and give him a lazy nod.

“Yes. Step on it, will you Don? I have work to do at the office.”

“Yes, sir.”

I'm not aware we're at my company till Don taps we awake.

“Why don't you take the day off sir? You don't look very well.”

I adjust my jacket as I step down.

“I'm fine. I'll have you notified to bring the car around when I'm ready to leave.”

He nods. Clearing my throat, I straighten the collar of my jacket and walk into my building. Sloane stands, my coffee in her hand, as soon as she sees me.

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton.”

I don’t answer. I just walk into my office, knowing she’ll follow. I hear the click of her heels behind me.

“Mr. Dalton,” she says as I hang my coat. “Are you... alright, sir? Should I get you some water? You look rather...”

No, I didn’t need water. I didn't need anything. I just wanted to have my coffee and focus on contract negotiations and cash flow reports. Anything to get my head back in the game where it needed to be.

I move past her and sit at my desk.

“Just my schedule, Sloane.”

Her face falls a bit at my harsh tone. But I don't care.

“Of course” She swallows, the emotion disappearing from her expression, and pulls the tablet tucked in the crook of her arm. “You have a ten o’clock with—”

“Sloane.”

She stops, pressing her lips together.

“Not so loud.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Dalton.”

I try to focus as she launches into a rundown of my schedule. She always has things well in hand, as she always does. Her voice is soothing, and by the time she finishes debriefing, my mind is clear.

Yes, I was still tired and felt ill, but the coffee would help. Sloane goes out of my office to her desk and I force my eyes to my laptop screen.

I have work to do.

The next time I eye the analog clock I keep on my desk, it's three in the afternoon, and I'm not even close to being done with half the day.

“Thank you, Mr. Dalton,” a man in a dark suit speaks from the screen of my laptop. “We will study your offer and come to a decision.”

I nod.

“Thank you for your time,” I say, forcing myself to smile politely. “I look forward to hearing back from you, Mr. Cameron. Have a good day.”

Hitting 'End' on the conference call I had been on with the representative of the decision board of a company we were trying to sign a deal with. I take off my headphones and close my eyes for a moment.

Jesus.

I didn’t even know how that had gone. I just hope I had gotten through to him. I wanted this project.

Opening my eyes back up, I watch my phone flash with my mother’s name, causing a twirl of mixed emotions. On any other day, under a totally different circumstance, I would have automatically picked up. But not today. I had already sent several of her calls to voice mail. If it were a real emergency, my whole family would have been blasting my phone.

“Not today, Portia,” I say as if she could hear me. “I don’t have time to deal with whatever you have planned for me.”

I silence my phone, place it screen down, and then move on to the stack of résumés that HR had sent over for the vacancies I needed to fill. Two—I’d check a couple of them and take the rest home with me.

Four résumés later, I'm drained. I let my back fall on the backrest of my chair. My head was spinning, and the fact that I had been working on mostly an empty stomach wasn't doing me any good.

Water.

“That would help” I mutter.

Grabbing my phone, I stand on weaker legs than I would have liked and make my way around the office to the water dispenser. Three more missed calls from my mother. My phone buzzes with a text from Ellen.

Elle: Call your mother back, Reid. I don't know why she thinks I know what you're up to.

I roll my eyes and start to text out a reply when the text blurs for a second. I stop walking, trying to get my eyes to focus back on the screen.

Me: I'm busy. I have a lot of work to do here at the office. Tell her I'll be home for dinner one of these days during the week...

I try to continue but the characters on the screen started dancing. My fingers lose all certainty, vacillating over the keyboard of the device. My sight doubles and then blurs, not managing to pinpoint with clarity the words I thought I was typing as they appear on the text bubble.

Focus.

A shaky breath leaves my lips as I attempt to hit send.

Water. Get the water. That’s what I need.

My head lifts off my phone, and my legs resume again, taking me a few feet closer. I know that the water dispenser is right there, probably about five or six steps ahead of me. But white spots scatter across my vision, and everything blinks out for a second.

White.

Then, my accent lighting illuminated office comes back, narrowing, tunneling away.

“Whoa,” I hear myself murmur.

I'm completely unaware of the fact that my legs are still moving forward until I have to balance myself with a hand on the wall.

“Shit” I stumble.

My eyelids flutter close, and I can feel how all the blood in my face rushes down, leaving me woozy and unbalanced. I will my eyes to open back up. But all I see was white. A white and misty blanket that covers everything in front of me. Although perhaps, it was the wall. I couldn’t be sure.

My skin feels cold and clammy, and I just want to close my eyes and rest. I vaguely recall that being a bad idea when my limbs start giving out. Then, I'm lying down.

Good. That’s good. I’ll rest for a bit, and then I’ll be better.

I topple to the side. It’s cold, but it’ll get better.

“Reid? Mind explaining why your mother's calling me?”

I hear his voice before his footsteps round towards the water dispenser. My lips are cool and feel detached from my body so I don’t answer.

“Reid? Dude where are you... Oh fuck!”

It doesn't take long for me to be settled on a plush surface. I let my back rest on something that feels a lot like a pillow. I place my hands on my sides, noticing the fabric beneath my fingers. Leather. A sofa. One of the pretentious and classy leather settees in my office.

“You scared the shit out of me, dude. Do you want to lean back?” he asks, an edge in his voice.

“No, I’m okay” I will my voice to convey the strength I wasn’t feeling.

His eyebrows draw into a scowl.

“You look so mad” I observe. “Why are you mad?”

“Because you overwork yourself and never listen. When was the last time you even ate a full and healthy meal, Reid?” His scowl deepens.

“Relax. I'm fine. And quit fussing about me like I'm your girlfriend or something” I attempt to laugh but cough instead, making my chest ache and burn.

“Jesus, Reid” He shoots me a look that would make anyone else cower.

“I’m fine, Hernan.”

“No, you are not,” he shoots back.

Such a drama queen.

“You fainted, Reid. That’s very far from being fine. I'll have Sloane get you a snack. In the meantime,” he steps away and returns a few moments later, “Water,” he announces, dropping a bottle on my lap.

He places my phone beside me too.

“Thanks” I unscrew the lid, chugging down almost the entire bottle as he steps out of my office.

Thank goodness for the blinds I still had down or else my employees would have seen me 'faint'.

“I've asked Sloane to grab you a snack.”

“Thanks. But I’m okay now. No need for a snack.”

“Dude.”

“Quit fussing Hernan. It was probably just a drop in my sugar level. I said I’m okay.”

“No,” he thunders, pinning me down with a warning I hadn't seen in years. “What you are is a dumbass.”

“Jeez relax. I was unconscious for what, half a second. I'm fine” I end with an eye roll which I regret because the pain that rockets through my sockets is hell.

I'm forced to listen to Hernan lecture me for what goes on forever till Sloane comes back, close to an hour later.

“Here, eat this” my best friend instructs, plopping a small white box beside me on the leather sofa with a plastic fork on top.

“And what's this?” I ask, eyeing it the best I can.

“The lady at the counter said it’s a pretzel bread pudding.”

I look at Sloane.

“She said it’s better warmed and served with vanilla bean ice cream, but it’s incredible on its own.”

“Just eat it, Reid. When did you get this stubborn?”

It would be pointless to argue so I just oblige. The moment the pretzel bread pudding hits my tongue, I'm enveloped in a perfect harmony of flavors and textures.

This is heaven on earth.

It’s not an explosion of sugar and spice. It’s much subtler than that. I taste the flavors of cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla woven through the bread with the added smokiness of the pretzel dough. Then the salted caramel with the faintest hint of espresso added a modern edge to the classic.

“Damn” I let out.

This is extraordinary.

“What? Is it not good?” Hernan grabs an extra fork, forks a big morsel, and pops it in his mouth. “Holy shit. I mean, crap. Sorry.”

I chuckle.

“This is the most delicious, and masterfully executed bread pudding I've ever had” he forks another piece and I slap his hand away. “What? I thought you were skeptical about eating this.”

“When it helps with my blood sugar? Of course, I'm eating it” I fork an impossibly big piece into my mouth.

“Don't choke on that” Hernan chuckles.

“Oh, I almost forgot” Sloane speaks again. “They had Italian cappuccino so I got you one.”

She passes an oddly familiar plastic coffee to Hernan and he hands it to me.

“Where did you get this again, Sloane?”

“Well, all the cafés nearby were either closed or out of almost everything. So I had to go out of the city. Someone recommended a little bakery off of West Carlton Avenue in Meridian.”

My tongue goes numb for a moment and I turn the coffee cup in my hand, all the same, lowering the lid on the white box the bread pudding came in.

“What's the name of the bakery?” Hernan asks, bringing out his phone. “I'll look them up and place an order. I could eat this every day.”

“Sweets by Lee” I answer, confirming my suspicion when my eyes sweep over her logo on the lid of the white box and the plastic coffee cup.

Hernan looks up from his phone at me and I give my assistant a curt nod.

“Thank you, Sloane. You may go now” I tell her.

She looks between Hernan and me for a second and then nods at me before walking away. I pop the last piece of the bread pudding into my mouth and proceed to sip my Italian cappuccino.

Did she know it was an order for me?

She probably wouldn't have sold it to Sloane if she did. Then again it was probably not her at the counter. Sloane would have mentioned that.

Unless she asked her not to.

But why would she do that?

A chuckle from Hernan breaks through my sea of thoughts directed at Lee.

“Your fake ex-fiancée huh?”

“Apparently.”

“I thought you'd stop eating.”

I shake my head, regretting it immediately as pain swims in and punches through my skull.

“Good. Because she's extraordinarily talented.”

I manage to find the energy to lift my coffee in the air and tip it at my best friend.

“You're preaching to the choir, bud,” I say with a proud smile, coughing a little.

“You should really go see a doctor, Reid. You need medical attention. You fainted remember?”

And we're back.

“I'm fine, Hernan. Seriously.”

“Well, I'm not convinced. You need to rest.”

“I'm fine. Plus I still have a lot of work to finish” I say, managing to stand up without swaying.

“Reid” Hernan says firmly.

I sigh.

“Fine” I sip my cappuccino. “I'll take the rest of the day off. If I'm not better by tomorrow, I'll go see a doctor.”

He nods, grabbing the empty box from the couch.

“Fair enough. Do you want me to drive you home?”

I'm not going home.

“No, I had Don drive me today. He'll take me home.”

No, he'll not.

“Okay. Call me when you get home alright? Now c'mon, I'll walk you to the car.”

He grabs my jacket and hands it to me.

“I'll ask Sloane to clear your schedule. Wait here” he instructs when we're almost out of the building.

But I don't. Instead, I step outside, pull out my phone, and order a Lyft.

✯✯✯✯✯✯

✿ Aileen's POV

The blur of the fairy lights overhead keeps me awake, but I never sleep without them on. I lift my phone and the screen lights up. The time reads three a.m. I sit up and look around the balcony. Not only had I been losing sleep since the rain but the guilt was eating me up.

But was it really guilt?

I scoot out of bed and walk into my room. Fetching my laptop, I come back and settle on the balcony. I flip it open and begin to surf the internet. By the time I lose count of the number of times I've yawned, it's already morning.

I shuffle out of the balcony bed, step into my room, and head straight for the bathroom. When I'm dressed, I head downstairs to get a start on breakfast. Bonita is the first one in the kitchen, drawn in by the smell of breakfast.

“Something smells delicious!” Nora sings as she walks in through the back door.

It doesn't take five seconds to hear the voices of the rest of her family pouring into the house. I smile.

“Huevos rancheros. I thought  everyone would like it.”

“Oh I certainly will,” Bonita says cheerfully.

“I love huevos,” Tracy says and opens the fridge, pulling out the orange juice.

When she closes the door, Matthew comes into view.
He gives Bonita and me a curt nod.

“Morning, ladies.”

He's wearing suit trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a tie.

“Good morning, Matthew” Bonita teases. “Don't you look extra handsome?”

I chuckle. Matthew glances at me and grins.

“Huevos? And I thought breakfast would be something I'd take with me to work today.”

“What's stopping you?” Tracy scoffs.

“She's making Huevos. I'm not letting my co-workers mooch my breakfast” he says, taking a seat.

Nora steps behind him and throws a napkin around his neck.

“Mom!”

“What? It's a big day today. You're getting your promotion. We don't need you staining your shirt.”

“I'm twenty-seven, Mom. I think I can do without you improvising a feeding bib for me.”

We chuckle but Nora stands her ground.

“Morning!” Landon calls out cheerfully entering the kitchen with Camari.

He pauses by his older brother and takes out his phone to snap a picture.

“New screensaver?” Bonita asks.

“Oh you know it” he laughs, blowing a kiss my way.

I smile and try my best to catch it enthusiastically.

“Mom, can I have Lucky Charms?” Camari rests her chin on the kitchen island.

“You may not,” Bonita replies. “We’re having eggs.”

“Guess what, Cami?” Landon asks before Camari can complain. “Matt's getting promoted to EMT-P today so we all get to go out tonight.”

It was a miracle I was actually following the conversation.

“We're going out to celebrate, right?” Landon looks up from Camari, as if not sure.

“Like hell we are!” Tracy grins.

Nora and Bonita shoot her a 'Camari's in the room' look.

“What about you Lee? You're coming with us to celebrate Matt's promotion right?” Landon asks as Nora takes over serving the eggs.

My uncle steps into the kitchen just as I'm answering.

“Well um... I sort of have... plans.”

The bustling in the kitchen stops and all eyes turn to me.

“Plans?” almost everyone choruses.

“Out of town plans. I... doubt it'll take long so I guess I'll meet you guys wherever you agree on.”

I catch Tracy eye me suspiciously and my uncle chuckles.

“You know, a little over a month ago when you went out of town, you came back with a fiancé,” he says, “Is it going to be the same for this out-of-town plan?”

I manage to force a smile.

“No, Papi. I have... personal work to do.”

He hums.

“Okay.”

“We'll text you the address when we agree on a place later then” Matthew grins.

I nod, and do my best to not roll my eyes at Bonita's Cheshire cat grin.

Thank you for reading!
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Ciao
~the_atticwriter