“No!”
He’s shouting again.
“This is not good enough!”
He sounds angry.
“This is not acceptable!”
Really angry.
“You are pathetic!”
And I love it when he is angry…
I hear Caleb throw something against the wall and decide it is time to enter the room. Slowly, I creep into the dining room, hovering around the edges. The room is large and I am easily able to disappear in the shadows.
“And don’t come back tomorrow! You’re fired!” Caleb rages. “Fired!”
As I pick up a plate from the dining table, Caleb notices me.
“Emma, sorry. I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Is everything ok?” I ask innocently.
“No, Emma, it’s not. I have just been served under-cooked chicken from the new chef. Under-cooked chicken, Emma. That’s not good enough. That could have given me food poisoning.”
“You didn’t have to fire him. You could have given him a second chance.”
“Under-cooked chicken, Emma.”
“Still. It’s a pressure job cooking for the famous Caleb Hawksley. The poor guy would have been very nervous on his first night. He’s only made one mistake.”
“Emma, the chicken was still pink on the inside. I barely think the chicken even hit the pan. That’s not good enough. Not for the amount I am paying him… or any chef for that matter. Why am I hiring a chef that can’t even cook chicken? I could have done a better job than he did.”
“I highly doubt that,” I smile. “You wouldn’t even know where the kitchen is.”
Caleb stares at me with a blank face. He wants to be angry with me. He wants to shout at me for such a harsh comment.
But the smile cracks through his tough exterior, “Only you could say that to me and get away with it, Emma.”
I return his smile. “Now, do you want a sandwich? I can make one for you.”
He smiles again and I feel the anger disappear from the room, “You know me better than I know myself, Emma.”
“Yes, I do.”
But I want to know you better, Caleb Hawksley.
I want to know you so much better…
Chapter 2
There he goes again.
On his way to spend a fortune on champagne for women he barely knows, as if money is nothing and life is one long, inconsequential party.
"Goodbye Emma," says Caleb in his silky smooth deep voice.
Caleb is my employer, looking too gorgeous in his tailored navy suit and crisp white shirt.
"Don't wake me when you get in," I say, waving and smiling, knowing that if he's alone when he returns, he will wake me for conversation and cocoa in the kitchen. I love those midnight moments together; the easy smiles, the occasional lingering glance he thinks I don't see, which never leads to the places I need them to.
Not yet anyway.
Caleb drives away in his silver Aston Martin without a care in the world, and I tell myself for the millionth time to loathe him for how he chooses to live his life, for his dislike of all things working class, for not wanting me the way I want him, but I know him too well for that.
He's a good man with a kind heart, though he does love to spoil himself like a child in a sweetshop a little too often.
Anyway, I couldn't loathe the man for whom I've longed forever.
The man I still dare to hope will one day see me as more than Little Em who grew up with him and became his housekeeper. Until that day, I keep his house in order and his shirts clean, fearing the day he falls in love, because it will be the end of me.
Despite being pleased with what nature gave me, I'm not glamorous or sophisticated like the many women he brings back for a night here, a night there. Those tittering women who offer their bodies and leave Chanel lipstick smeared over his linen shirts for me to remove. They are sophisticated, perfectly styled, wealthy, and I know I should envy them all, but I don't.
Why would I envy them when in normal, everyday ways he is mine to care for?
In my dreams he is mine to enjoy, and in my heart, he is just mine.
My mother loved being the housekeeper for
He’s shouting again.
“This is not good enough!”
He sounds angry.
“This is not acceptable!”
Really angry.
“You are pathetic!”
And I love it when he is angry…
I hear Caleb throw something against the wall and decide it is time to enter the room. Slowly, I creep into the dining room, hovering around the edges. The room is large and I am easily able to disappear in the shadows.
“And don’t come back tomorrow! You’re fired!” Caleb rages. “Fired!”
As I pick up a plate from the dining table, Caleb notices me.
“Emma, sorry. I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Is everything ok?” I ask innocently.
“No, Emma, it’s not. I have just been served under-cooked chicken from the new chef. Under-cooked chicken, Emma. That’s not good enough. That could have given me food poisoning.”
“You didn’t have to fire him. You could have given him a second chance.”
“Under-cooked chicken, Emma.”
“Still. It’s a pressure job cooking for the famous Caleb Hawksley. The poor guy would have been very nervous on his first night. He’s only made one mistake.”
“Emma, the chicken was still pink on the inside. I barely think the chicken even hit the pan. That’s not good enough. Not for the amount I am paying him… or any chef for that matter. Why am I hiring a chef that can’t even cook chicken? I could have done a better job than he did.”
“I highly doubt that,” I smile. “You wouldn’t even know where the kitchen is.”
Caleb stares at me with a blank face. He wants to be angry with me. He wants to shout at me for such a harsh comment.
But the smile cracks through his tough exterior, “Only you could say that to me and get away with it, Emma.”
I return his smile. “Now, do you want a sandwich? I can make one for you.”
He smiles again and I feel the anger disappear from the room, “You know me better than I know myself, Emma.”
“Yes, I do.”
But I want to know you better, Caleb Hawksley.
I want to know you so much better…
Chapter 2
There he goes again.
On his way to spend a fortune on champagne for women he barely knows, as if money is nothing and life is one long, inconsequential party.
"Goodbye Emma," says Caleb in his silky smooth deep voice.
Caleb is my employer, looking too gorgeous in his tailored navy suit and crisp white shirt.
"Don't wake me when you get in," I say, waving and smiling, knowing that if he's alone when he returns, he will wake me for conversation and cocoa in the kitchen. I love those midnight moments together; the easy smiles, the occasional lingering glance he thinks I don't see, which never leads to the places I need them to.
Not yet anyway.
Caleb drives away in his silver Aston Martin without a care in the world, and I tell myself for the millionth time to loathe him for how he chooses to live his life, for his dislike of all things working class, for not wanting me the way I want him, but I know him too well for that.
He's a good man with a kind heart, though he does love to spoil himself like a child in a sweetshop a little too often.
Anyway, I couldn't loathe the man for whom I've longed forever.
The man I still dare to hope will one day see me as more than Little Em who grew up with him and became his housekeeper. Until that day, I keep his house in order and his shirts clean, fearing the day he falls in love, because it will be the end of me.
Despite being pleased with what nature gave me, I'm not glamorous or sophisticated like the many women he brings back for a night here, a night there. Those tittering women who offer their bodies and leave Chanel lipstick smeared over his linen shirts for me to remove. They are sophisticated, perfectly styled, wealthy, and I know I should envy them all, but I don't.
Why would I envy them when in normal, everyday ways he is mine to care for?
In my dreams he is mine to enjoy, and in my heart, he is just mine.
My mother loved being the housekeeper for
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