Bound to You: Volume 2 by Vanessa Booke

with one of the cashiers,” Carol says with a wink.
    “I guess I won’t be missed. Plus, I usually only take a half hour lunch, so sure, let’s go.”

After several hours of lying in bed with a massive headache, I was finally able to hold my head up around noon without wanting to puke up my insides. Despite my protests, Alison refused to leave my apartment and I had to spend hours listening to her as she talked my ear off about our upcoming wedding. After a while I got fed up, and I told her to go home. She pouted, of course, but eventually she left. Thank god. At one point, she offered to give me a blowjob to help me feel better. While a blowjob usually sounds fantastic, if it meant listening to her gab for the next hour, I would’ve rather gouged my eyes out. That’s even with me suffering blue balls for the past several weeks.
    As I step into my office I notice an e-mail notification at the top of my cellphone. It’s from my father. Great. I scroll through the message and find myself frowning at his request to have a meeting to discuss something important . Panic sets in. What if Rebecca told him about my behavior at the Lit For Kids event? Or worse, what if the tabloids somehow got ahold of a photo of me drunk and out of my mind. Fuck. I type my name into the search bar of my phone. To my surprise, there aren’t any new articles. Maybe it’s not about last night or maybe the tabloids haven’t spread their gossip just yet.
    I call Rebecca’s office line to check in, but it goes straight to voicemail. I wonder if she’s sick. After checking through my messages, I come to the conclusion that she must be on her lunch break. In a way, I’m dreading having to speak with her about last night. I made a fool of myself because of past memories, and while I’m grateful that she did her job as my assistant, I do owe her apology. I shouldn’t have come on to her. No matter how much I want to do it again.
    I make my way through the rows of cubicles toward my father’s office. Not a single employee bothers to look up as I pass them. I often wonder if people avoid eye contact with me because they think I’m some kind of monster. In truth, I am a bit of an asshole, but I can’t help it.
    I find father typing away at his computer as classical music plays in the background. I recognize the familiar song from my childhood memories. It’s the first movement from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Our father used to play it on the piano when we went to bed. I loved falling asleep to the slow chord progression. As we got older, the tone of the song seemed a little darker than I remembered. After my mother left, our father would play it into the earlier hours of the morning. I think it was his way of easing his sorrows without touching a bottle.
    “Good morning, son,” he says. “I’m glad to see you.” For the first time in a long time, I notice the fine lines of stress on my father’s face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes have set in deeper since the last time I remember. “There’s something I think we should discuss.” The tone in his voice lets me know that whatever he’s about to say is pretty serious.
    “If it’s about the other night, I can explain –” I start to say.
    He raises his hand to stop me. “I heard the Lit For Kids event went wonderfully. I’m happy you’re taking the initiative on these opportunities for publicity.” He stops for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “It seems everything is working out with Rebecca. I haven’t seen anything in the papers to tell me otherwise, and I’m very glad.”
    “Yes, although she isn’t exactly what I was expecting an assistant,” I mutter.
    “Rebecca is the last thing you should be worrying about,” father says. “Your wedding should be your number one priority.” He turns back to his desk and grabs a document that looks to be at least 100 pages long. “This is why I called you in. I had our lawyer draw this contract