Ours to Keep || Anakin Skywalker

10 - Willow

1.7k words
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"What is highlighted in red can be taken out completely. What is highlighted in green can be brought down to only a sentence or two," I set Skywalker's ridiculously long pitch down in front of him. He glanced up from his computer and eyed the pages and the fresh coffee I placed a few inches to his left, "The rest is fine."

"Thank you," He mumbled, grabbing the pages with one hand and his coffee with the other. He took a small sip and sighed with content, his eyes closing momentarily to soak in the satisfaction given to him by a simple sip of coffee — I can relate.

I tilted my head, "Did you not get any sleep last night?" I asked, noticing the bags under his eyes.

He shook his head and slowly placed the coffee down, "Not really no, my brother decided to pay me a visit last night and he is what you would call, unhinged."

"Brother?" I questioned in surprise, how did I not know my CEO had two sons? He's never been mentioned in tabloids or any conversations I've had with Fred. Nor have I seen pictures.

He nodded with another sigh, this one mustered out of disappointment, "A product of one of my Fathers many affairs," He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, "Another child he neglected and somehow gets thrown on me every once in awhile when his Mom decides she doesn't want to deal with him."

"How old is he?" I asked, only now realizing I was sitting in the chair across from him. The conversation intrigued me as I found myself leaning forward to learn more about someone else's messed up life. It made me feel not so alone.

"Seventeen, and he drinks like a fucking sailor. I found him busting into my liquor cabinet last night. I nearly beat him to death with a golf club thinking he was an intruder. I have no idea how he got his own key." He continued to vent, until he realized just how much he was sharing and quickly composed himself, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. The room is practically spinning from exhaustion, thanks for the coffee."

"What's his name?" I ignored his attempt to shoo me away.

"I call him Piett," He answered, sipping away at his coffee, "It's his Mothers maiden name because I refuse to call him by his actual name Firmus," He grimaced, "It sounds like a cats name."

I chuckled, "What's wrong with that? I had a cat named Firmus."

He knitted his brows, "Did you really?" The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile.

"No," I shrugged.

He chuckled, "Name your future child Firmus," He smirked.

"Sure, then I'll name the next one Garfield or Winifred." I joked, these were terrible names. Not that I'll ever get the chance to pick a name, which was something I was always so excited about. The list sitting in my phone just seems useless now.

Willow for a girl.

Theo for a boy.

These are just examples of my list that goes on for miles. I've been choosing names since I was five and naming my Barbie and Ken dolls.

"Is there anything else you need?" I asked as I stood up, not wanting to take more of his time. Nor did I want to stick around long enough for a mood swing, I didn't sleep so I definitely didn't have the energy today.