Love Is Blind

One Small Issue

The next few days Lacey seemed quiet in the office. As if lunch had been a stepping stone into a stony silence that would never end. After a few days of trying my best to strike up a decent conversation, I gave up on trying. If Lacey wanted to talk to me, then she knew where I was.

Sometime in the middle of November, maybe around the twelfth, she came in and I could tell from her mood that she was more chipper than she had been since the lunch we went to that first day on the job.

Taking my coffee and setting it on the coaster my nephew had made me a year or so ago, I smiled a little, "You sound pretty cheerful today. Is there any reason as to why you're so extraordinarily happy? Or is it just a great day?" I inquired, still focused on the manuscript I was correcting on my computer.

I could hear the scrape of her heels (or maybe it was the chair) against the floor as she sat by the filing cabinet. She wouldn't have much filing to do, but she had a little before I would have to go and find something else for her to occupy her time with, "I'm in a great mood, actually! I just got an amazing call."

"If I'm allowed to ask... What was it about?" I push a little, not wanting to pry on her own personal business too much.

"My mom's coming to visit and she's bringing her famous pie as well as my older brother, Asher."

"Guessing that's pretty good, huh?" I assumed, sipping at my lukewarm caffeine, still typing up corrections.

"Fantastic!" She gushed, "Her pie is the best ever and I haven't seen Asher in three years."

"That's really good, Lacey," I replied distractedly. Even if she had quit calling me Jacob I was still going to continue to call her Lacey.

"Actually...there's one small issue..." She began, seeming almost hesitant to say anything more than that; maybe she even regretted letting that slip out.

"What would that be, my dear Ms. Webber?" I hummed out, finishing up the chapter I was working on and continuing on to the next, hating how the author made so many grammatical errors. Seriously, how hard is it to remember where the comma goes in dates and compound sentences?

"You see... My mom knows that I'm working here. You know, at Winchester and Jackson? And... Well... She knows I'm an intern and everything. But she also knows that you're working here, that you're a big wig. She actually loves your reviews and things.."

"Mhm..." I mumbled, intent on finishing this manuscript within the next hour, "Not quite seeing how that's a problem, yet, Lacey."

She let out a loud, exasperated sigh, as if I should have already gotten what she meant and agreed to whatever it happened to be, "Jacob Anderson, my mother would love to meet you. She's a big fan of your work, for whatever reason."

My fingers froze over the keys, fingertips brushing the raised bumps. Subconsciously, my brain continued to work on the words I had been typing, trying to sort them out. Consciously, though, I was stuck on her words. Her mother wants to meet me. Her mother.

Coughing, I dropped my hands down to my lap and sat up straighter, "Uh... Well, Lacey..." I began, stuttering a little over the words.

Lacey didn't let me finish though, "Listen. I know what you're going to say. 'Why do I have to meet her?' 'Can't she just read about me on the internet?' 'I don't want to do this!' And I get it. I really do, Jacob. But you have to do this for me. Please. I know I'm the best intern you've ever had. Even better than your any of your previous assistants! And I know for one hundred percent certain that I deserve one favor out of you,".

Instead of fighting with her and arguing the point, I questioned it, "And why do you think you deserve this so much?"

"Because," She stated simply.

Challenging her, I asked, "Because?"

She sighed and I could practically hear her deflate, "Because I'm asking a friend very nicely to please do me a favor. Just this once... Please?"

Scoffing, though quietly, I crossed my arms over my chest in defiance, "We're friends? Really? After the last few weeks, that isn't exactly the word I would use to describe our relationship."

This time, her sigh sounded sad, maybe even a little wistful, "I know. I know. And trust me, I'm very sorry about that.... But I had my reasons."

"Tell me what they were. If they're good enough... Maybe, just maybe, I'll go and meet your mom, okay? Does that sound like a deal to you, Lacey?" I prodded, knowing that I deserved an answer and I would probably give in her to her request anyway.

It took a long while for her to answer after that. We sat in a cold, stony silence until she finally broke it, sounding almost ashamed as she mumbled out the answer to all my questions, "Because I like you and you're my boss. I shouldn't like you...so, I decided that I should pretend to hate you and to just act like another poker-faced colleague instead of acting like a lovesick schoolgirl."

Yet again, I froze at her words. This time, though, I could feel my heart pick up speed. (God, now who sounds like a lovesick schoolgirl?) Before she could take back what she said and refute it, I grinned to myself and answered, "I would love to meet your mother, Lacey."

I could practically hear Lacey stop cold and repeat my words over and over in her head, trying to process what I had just told her, "Wait... You'll go with me?"

Confirming it, I responded smugly, "Yep."

"And... And you're not angry at me that I've got a crush on you?" She seemed to be trying to wrap her head around the idea.

Nodding, even though I knew she couldn't see me, I concurred with her drawn conclusion, "Yes, Lacey. Just to be sure you've got that... Yes, I'm agreeing to go and meet your mother. And no, I'm not angry at you for liking me. Do you know why?"

"No, actually, I don't have any clue at all. Would you like to give me some sort of hint as to why you're agreeing and not flipping on me for having a tiny crush on you?"

Chuckling at her addition of the word 'tiny', I smiled, "I'm agreeing for the same reason I'm not on the phone screaming for a new intern," I teased, not wanting to give her the actual reason yet, just to rile her up a little.

Exasperation laced her tone, "Which would be?"

"The fact that I like you right back, Lacey."