Take A Number - Amy Daws Page 0,101

on a harsh tone I rarely hear from him. “Just make this easy on me, please. I have to interview nannies after this because Everly’s mom just informed me she has to work overseas this winter, and I seriously don’t need to be chasing you down right now.”

My brows furrow at that admission. “You need a nanny? Isn’t Everly old enough to be home alone?”

“No way,” Max scoffs. “You know my crazy hours. I kill myself to clear out the days she’s not with her mom, so having her every day and night will be a huge adjustment, and I’ll need help. A lot of help. And the owner of this nanny agency is not making this process easy. That woman wears on my last nerve.”

“I’m sorry, Max,” I reply lamely because this is so not my area of expertise.

“It’s not your problem.” He waves me off and pushes the contract toward me again. “Just take this off my list, please?”

“I can’t do that.” I slide out of the booth, my entire body suddenly feeling very weak at everything changing all around me. I went from having it all to having nothing in the blink of an eye, and this isn’t what I want. Not by a long shot. “Norah was a good investment, and that’s the one I want. End of story.”

“Dean, come on.” Max holds his hands out helplessly. “You have to at least negotiate with me. Give me a counteroffer I can discuss with her. You owe her that much.”

I glare at him and resist the urge to punch him in the nose but instead reply, “I need to think about it.”

Max purses his lips. “Just try to hurry. She wanted this buttoned up before the opening in two days.”

“Things like this can’t be rushed, Max.” I turn and walk out, knowing that I don’t want to lose my investment in Norah’s bakery. If I lose that, I lose her, and I’m not ready to lose her.

My phone trills as I send off an email confirming my television interview timeslot for Saturday morning. I see it’s Nate’s name on the caller ID and begrudgingly answer, “Hello?”

“Hey, how did your meeting go today?”

I sigh heavily. “Okay, Max says he’s countering, though.”

“I’m not surprised,” Nate huffs.

“It’s annoying, but hopefully he comes back to Max with something soon. I want this over.”

“You sound stressed,” Nate says and clears his voice before stammering, “Do you w-want to maybe meet for a drink?”

My spine straightens at that request. “Nate, we talked about this.”

“I know, I know,” he replies, and I can hear him ruffling papers in the background. “But I kept my promise to you, Norah, and our meeting yesterday was strictly business.”

“Which is what you deserve after that crap you said at my parents’ dinner,” I state through clenched teeth. “You’re lucky I kept you as my accountant at all. If I wasn’t on such a tight deadline with this bakery investment buyout, I would have looked for a new accountant.”

“I know. God, I get it,” he whines, sounding flustered. “Which is why I want a chance to explain myself, Norah. Explain why I was so horrible. And apologize again.”

“Nate, it’s not necessary,” I reply and then hear the voice of my mother telling me she feels sorry for the guy, and he could use a friend right now. Ugh…stupid mom voice!

“Please, Norah? One drink and then you can leave if you want. You and I have a lot of history, and I feel like shit knowing you think I’m such an asshole after all these years.”

“Douche purse,” I correct.

“What?”

“I think you’re a douche purse, or wagon, or canoe, or whatever random object I can tag onto the end of douche.” I cringe when I realize I’m talking like Dean.

Nate expels a weak laugh before he asks again. “One drink? And then I promise you can go back to the douche phrases as much as you want.”

I agree to meet Nate at Pearl Street Pub, a casual dive bar located up the road from my bakery. It’s close and convenient, and frankly, after all the big life decisions I’ve made in the past forty-eight hours, a drink sounds really good. Plus, I need to celebrate that I’m going to Paris. I’m actually going to Paris!

I’m not moving to Paris, but honestly, who moves to Paris without at least visiting it first? No one. And frankly, I have a friend there who practically screamed over FaceTime when I asked her if I