i want him to myself.

Brady and I are going to Paris later this month and I am thrilled. I have spent the few months leading up to it stocking up on berets and scarves and pinning restaurants I want to go to and places I want to see. Brendan sent me a list of his recommendations, but gave a disclaimer. “I haven’t been since 2009 so these places might not be cool anymore.”

If anyone has any recommendations at all, please share.

The other day, Mike called me into his office. He was sitting behind his desk shuffling papers.

“What do you think of Kristina?” he said as a greeting.

“Kristina?” I repeated. “I think she’s great. Super outgoing and business savvy. I really like her.”

“I think she’s an airhead,” he said, continuing to shuffle his papers.

“Mike!” I exclaimed.

He finally looked up at me. “She seems spacey and she doesn’t know any of her numbers. I know she’s your friend, but… you’re going to have to work with her if you want to keep her around.”

Ouch. I didn’t realize Mike was so unimpressed with Kristina, but I told him I’d work with her because I can’t have my girl getting fired.

I called a one-on-one meeting with Kristina the following morning and the only thing she wanted to talk about the whole time was Brendan.

“Can you believe he has been married for three years?” she asked.

“How do you know that?” I needed to know.

“Instagram,” she replied proudly. “His wife wore custom Oscar de la Renta. I wonder how much that wedding cost.”

I hadn’t scrolled that far back on his Instagram and I instructed Kristina show me. She pulled up the wife’s Instagram and showed me a photo of the happy couple sitting in front of a little waterfall or something in their designer duds. Brendan looked like a little boy in his white tux, black pants and bow tie. Neither of them was smiling though – they both wore supermodel pouts.

“What’s the deal with them? Brendan hangs out with us all the time and never brings her,” Kristina said.

“I don’t know. Probably because it’s always work things. I’m sure she has her own friends and stuff.” I found myself feeling strangely protective of him and like, annoyed that Kristina was so concerned with/invested in his life.

“She’s in Mexico right now without him.”

“Kristina. Let’s get back to work.”

I went over some things with her and helped her create an Excel spreadsheet to organize all of her numbers.

“What’s all this for? Do I have a quiz or something coming up?” Kristina smirked.

“No, but I want you to have all of these numbers on hand in case Mike asks you. Just trying to set you up for success.”

Do you see what a great manager, mentor and friend I am?

When I got home, I fed Tucker and walked him, threw a Pinterest casserole in the oven and then poured a glass of Cab. I was texting with Carly who might have a job lined up. She wants to plan a girls trip to Palm Springs or something.

“I need a vacation if I’m going to start work again,” she said.

Brady walked through the front door at 8:30pm.

“Hey hey,” he greeted Tucker and me.

“Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes. Do you want a glass of wine?” I said back.

“Please. I’m just going to get changed.” Brady took off his jacket and I saw that he was wearing normal nice slacks with a light colored button down, unbuttoned at the top and no tie.

“What are you wearing?” I demanded.

“What?”

“Why are you like half dressed?” Brady is normally dressed impeccably complete with a tie so I imagined that he’d taken it off at some point during the day.

“Half dressed? This is what I wore to work…” he explained.

“What?” I hadn’t seen Brady before he left for work since he leaves at the literal asscrack of dawn.

“No one really dresses up that much. I guess I wanted to conform.”

I eyed his revealing neckline again, actually offended. He looked so…exposed. I’m so used to seeing Brady so buttoned up that it was bizarre that he was so casual. Seeing the little sliver of his Adam’s apple and collarbone, I thought of all his little tattoos and how his coworkers probably have no idea he even has them. He keeps his professional life and personal life super separate which I love. I didn’t want his coworkers to even think he was cool outside of work – they aren’t worthy. I wanted that version to myself.

“I don’t like that,” I concluded.

He laughed and said okay.

And since then he has gone back to wearing ties to work. Is it bad if I don’t fully believe him? Like I still imagine he fucked some nurse in the janitor’s closet and never put his tie back on after. Or he went out after work and took his tie off to look less stuffy and had secret drinks with someone else.

A few nights later, Sydney stopped by to pick something up. Brady informed me five minutes prior to her arrival.

“Ew. What does she possibly need to pick up?” I asked.

He gave me a disapproving look and shook his head.

“Hi, you guys!” Sydney said when she walked in, waving.

Brady had a folder waiting for her and hugged it against her body gratefully. “What are you guys up to tonight?”

“Literally nothing,” I said. She was wearing a leather jacket with a big, plaid scarf and you guessed it: workout pants.

“I’ve been wanting to try that French restaurant on the corner. Have you been?”

“Ah, uh….no, we haven’t,” Brady said back.

Sydney’s beady eyes lit up. “We should go!”

So that’s how we got roped into having dinner with Sydney. She was so excited to be hanging out with us which made me feel slightly bad for being annoyed that she was there. I guess since she had shlepped all the way from Brooklyn, she needed to make the most of it.

Brady and Sydney talked about politics all night. Presidential candidates, various policies, healthcare. It was so boring. I prefer to keep my head in the sand and let adults make those decisions. I’m sure Brady hates that he can’t talk about that stuff with me.

And then Sydney had to come back to the apartment with us after dinner because she’d left the folder she came for in the first place. I was feeling kind so I offered her a glass of wine. But then she overstayed her welcome and didn’t leave until 11:30pm. You give them an inch and they take a mile.

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