Handcuffed Boss

3. Why?

Mia
He used my name...He's never said my name before. I assumed he didn't even know my first name. All he ever bellows is Ms. St. Patrick.

Why?

I wanted to know why he suddenly decided to use my name? He hasn't used it since. He was back to calling me Ms. St. Patrick the next day.

Why?

It's all I could think about. It's the only thing that has been on my mind. Why did he choose that moment to say it? And why did he seem almost friendly the other day. He started up a conversation with me and kept it going for a while. Why did he do that? He didn't complain when I brought him to the crowded and noisy deli for lunch. He asked me what I recommend he try.

Why?

Why was he doing this? Why am I driving myself crazy thinking about this? Now I'm going into work with all of these thoughts running through my head. It was going to be a long day.

"Ms. St. Patrick, you're late!"

"It's eight fifty-five. I'm five minutes early."

"Are you now? Do we or do we not have a meeting at nine fifteen?"

"We do."

"Do you or do you not have to prepare the conference room?"

"I do. I'll have it ready in ten minutes."

"It better be."

Usually by this time we'd be going at each other, but he just let it go. That's not like him.

Why?

"What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just let it go."

"It's not worth the argument. Go prepare the conference room."

I put Paxton's weird behaviour out of my mind and prepared for the day ahead. Today wasn't so busy so I could use whatever down time I had to apartment hunt. I needed to get out of that crappy roach infested apartment, and I need to do it soon.

The morning meeting went well and Paxton seemed pleased, which meant he'd be in a tolerable mood. When lunch time rolled around once again he decided we should have lunch together. What the hell is going on?

I sat across from him in the restaurant he'd chosen and demanded I book because it's Wednesday and he always has French food on Wednesday. For the most part we'd both been quiet which for us is a record. I thought things would stay that way until he broke the silence by asking me a rather personal question.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm asking if you're taken or single."

"I know what do you have a boyfriend means. Why?"

"Why would you have a boyfriend?"

Okay, so now he was just been a smart ass.

"Why are are you asking me personal questions?"

"Is that not allowed?"

"Why is that date circled on your calendar?"

"Fair enough, Ms. St. Patrick."

He seemed to have lost his good mood, and I felt bad for asking him.

"It's fine. You don't have to tell me and I don't have to answer your question. Everyone wins and everyone gets to hold on to their secret or secrets."