Wanting My Assistant

Chapter 50

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. A couple days ago when Dawson was telling me that everything would be fine and that I should always be myself continues to play in my head, making me overthink everything about myself.

When the day came, today, that Dawson told me to start packing my suitcase for Christmas week at his families house, my sickness just started to fade away. But now I'm sick with nerves. Today is the day I'm going to meet his family. I'm going to meet everyone close to him, related to him.

What if they don't like me?

I give Dawson's hand a squeeze, biting my lip as I stare out the window at an old high school, cars scattered in the parking lot and movements outside on the lawn. Trees line the road, cracked sidewalks leading along the side of the roads that are pretty clear, a few cars going by here and there.

My heart is thumping in my chest, nerves eating at my stomach. What if his family hates me? What if they don't like how I look? Or my personality? What if they don't think I'm enough for Dawson?

"Darling," Dawson murmurs softly, giving my hand a squeeze, pulling me from my thoughts. My eyes jump over to his laid back frame, one hand rested on the top of the steering wheel as he flicks his gaze towards me, a reassuring smile on his face, "Relax, bella, everyone is going to love you, just the way I do." His words, soft and caring, settle in my brain, but they are quickly whisked away.

"What if they hate me? What if they think I'm not good enough for you? What about—"

"Stop." Dawson pulls in a deep breath before exhaling sharply, "You are perfect. For me. For yourself. Everyone around you. You are perfect, beautiful, smart, and incredibly sexy," a giggle bubbles from my chest at the sudden praise, warmth spreading through my body at his declaration. A hint of smile plays on Dawson's handsome face and my nerves seem to ease slightly the more I watch his demeanor.

His somewhat messy hair and soft smile. He hasn't shaved in a week or so, his scruff now longer, and to be honest, I don't hate it. His hair has gotten longer, just falling across his forehead when it's untamed in the mornings. I never would have imagined him in tan khakis, but here I am, staring down at the grey sweatshirt and khakis combo he's wearing with basic sneakers. A watch sits on his left wrist, a leather bracelet on his left wrist as well, his hand that's engulfed mine sporting one flexible ring on his thumb. He look incredibly handsome and sexy for someone who's been driving for hours on end. He hums, his red eyes flicking over to catch me staring.

A blush spreads across me cheeks and I glance away, an embarrassed smile on my face as the car rumbles beneath us. Snowball jumps into my lap, startling me slightly as a breathless laugh leaves me. He purrs loudly, spinning around on my lap before flopping down on his side and exposing his fluffy white belly. Dawson groans, shaking his head at the cat, rolling his eyes and focusing back on the road as I stroke Snowball's head.

I insisted we take him. He didn't want to, but eventually Dawson gave in, he's a sucker and I always seem to get what I want. It makes me smile, knowing now that when I want something, I can ask without feeling guilty for wanting something.

Snowball purrs at me, showing his chin at me for scratches as Dawson keeps his one hand entertained with my left hand. "You're going to get my clothes covered in white cat hair," I tease the fluffy kitten in my lap, scratching him under the chin with my pointer finger. The intensity of his purring only increases at the attention and a grin spreads across my lips. Dawson's thumb runs softly across the back of my hand, soothing the jittery feeling I have settled inside my stomach.

   Snowball continues to purr, rolling around on my lap, his fur sticking to the soft black leggings I have on. At least he isn't covering the sweatshirt I stole from Dawson with fur. White cat fur would really stick out on the red hoodie.