The gargantuan workload is only half the battle I’m fighting.

The other half?

Henry.

Quizzical, confusing, way-too-freaking-good-looking Henry Dawson.

He’s been suspiciously quiet this week. The interaction we share has shrunk to insubstantial and nonexistent. I even went out of my way yesterday, meandering over to his side of the building to check and make sure he’s still alive because all signs point toward him disappearing into thin air. Correspondence that he might have personally delivered to me, using the chance to goad me into hearing a joke or being subjected to his pointless, never-ending stories I’ve learned to tune out, has gone through Lisa, who’s equally perplexed.

If it weren’t for the light on in his office when I get to work and still glowing into the late-hours of the evening when I slog home, I’d assume he had fallen off the face of the earth.

I keep checking over my shoulder, literally, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to give up this reformed act. To stop whatever game he’s planning and crack, the usual goofiness prevalent again.

Strangely enough, nothing comes.

I didn’t even see him leaving for lunch with Noah on Wednesday, and I know that’s a long-standing tradition, one they haven’t missed in years.

A rational individual would deduce Henry is finally evolving. Maturing and starting to act professional and dignified, the rowdy behavior a thing of the past.

I’m not entirely convinced.

I think he has ulterior motives, trying to appear like the perfect paradigm of what a partner of a prestigious law firm should be while simultaneously plotting a hostile takeover of the position, ready to swoop in and steal it out from under my nose with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. It’s in my nature to consider all sides of a problem, and Henry Dawson is, without a doubt, a big freaking problem.

Walking into my house after another strenuous week, I sigh in relief as the door shuts firmly behind me. I kick off my shoes in the small foyer before heading to the kitchen. Pulling out leftovers from the night before, I pop the plate into the microwave, set the timer, and grab my personal laptop.

Scanning my email, my eyes catch on an unread message waiting for me. I double click it open.

To: RBCompanions

From: JD7683

Subject: New Inquiry

Date: September 1

Hi, there.

I hope this isn’t weird, but a friend of mine gave me your information, and I have a few questions.

I have a family gathering in six weeks I need to attend. The itinerary spans from Wednesday to Sunday. Do you do multi-day events? If it’s not part of your typical package, I’d be happy to pay extra for it. Just name the price.