Ms. Bridgeman
Ms. Bridgeman is another story written for one of my higher level creative writing classes in college. At the time of writing this, I was obsessed with watching K-Dramas and my main inspiration came from one of my favorites called What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? I don’t usually write romance stories, but I do enjoy reading them. Since we were tasked to write a slightly longer short story for this assignment, I wanted to challenge myself to do something different and using the inspiration from the shows I was watching at the time I think really helped me convey the feelings I wanted to share between the two characters in this story.
The alarm next to my bed sounds at five o’clock in the morning and I slowly open my eyes. Just like any other day, I gradually make my way out of bed, running a hand over my face to rid any leftover sleep I might have. Throwing the large covers off my legs, I swing them over and place my feet in the slippers I keep on the floor. With a final yawn, I make my way over to the bathroom and start my usual morning routine. I take a brisk, hot shower, the water waking up my muscles. After that, I wrap a towel around my waist and walk over to the sink. I run my hand over the steamy mirror so that I can see my face. My gray eyes stare back at me as I brush my teeth and then style my short, black hair. All my life I have never been able to grow a proper beard or mustache, the hair growing in uneven patches, so I make sure to take a razor over the small, barely noticeable hairs every morning.
Once done, I walk back into my room where an olive green suit is already laid out on my bed as if it had been silently waiting there for me. I can’t help but smile as I stare down at it. Every day has been the exact same ever since I started working for my father’s company. For the past fifteen years, not a day has gone by where I wake up and my clothes for the day aren’t there. The moment I turned sixteen, my father gave me the lowest-level job he could give me at the company and made me work hard so that I could be where I am now. The day he gave me the company and retired is my greatest accomplishment in my thirty-three years of life. Shaking my head, I give a small, nervous laugh as I pull the suit on. If I take any longer, Ms. Bridgeman will surely come looking for me and I’m not quite ready to face her yet.
Darcy Bridgeman has been working as my secretary since the moment I turned eighteen. She had just turned seventeen and was about to begin her higher education, but once she graduated she became my personal assistant. We are only apart on the weekends when the company is closed, though more and more recently I have begun to come up with excuses as to why I need her to come over. It took me a while to finally admit myself to it, and it took me even longer to come to terms with it, but there’s definitely no denying it now and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it to myself.
In short, I’ve fallen in love with Darcy Bridgeman.
This newly discovered emotion makes me feel giddy inside, a feeling that I didn’t even know I was capable of. I’ve seen people fall in love in movies and in books my whole life, but having grown up the way I did, I never realized that I would be capable of such emotion.
Of course, this new discovery has made me act differently. I find myself saying things or doing things I hadn’t done before. Most of the time I look like a fool and end up embarrassing myself. I know that Ms. Bridgeman notices these differences, but she hasn’t said anything about it, nor do I expect her to. She’s the kind of woman who accepts anything when it comes to me. I understand that the only reason behind this is because I’m her employer, but I like to think that perhaps she feels the same way I feel for her.
With a final look in the mirror, I make my way into the kitchen where Ms. Bridgeman is setting a plate on the kitchen island. I give her a small smile as I take my seat and then look down at the omelet she has made for me. I pause as I begin to take my first bite, my fork hovering in the air between my plate and my mouth. I watch as she goes to place a pan in the dishwasher and I begin looking between her and my fork, conflicted. All these years she has made me breakfast in the morning and continuously watches me eat and I’ve never once thought about if she’s eaten yet. Has she possibly been starving herself every morning and then suffers as she watches me eat? I could very well be torturing her with every meal I have.
I place the fork down and cough, causing her to look up from her task. She looks at my plate and then at me, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Is everything okay, Mr. Chatburn?”
I smile awkwardly at her and move my plate towards her. “I’m not feeling very hungry this morning, Ms. Bridgeman.”
She slowly walks over and touches the plate gingerly. “Is something wrong with it?” She asks. “Or are you feeling ill?”
I shake my head and smile. “No, nothing wrong,” I say as I try to find the right words without making myself sound like a fool. “You must be hungry though. You may have it if you like.”
She raises an eyebrow, her eyes moving back and forth from the plate and me. “I had breakfast before leaving for work this morning,” she says with a small smile as she pushes the plate back to me. “Hungry or not, I suggest you eat it. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and you’re schedule is showing you will be having a later lunch due.”
I look back at my plate and cough again. “Right,” I mutter before picking my fork up again. After a few bites, I add, “Why am I having a later lunch today?”
Ms. Bridgeman gives out a small laugh. “Don’t tell me that Mr. Chatburn actually forgot his schedule.”
I raise my eyebrows slightly as I think before I let out a sigh. “Right,” I say while nodding. “I have that meeting with my father’s old business partner from France. He’s coming to speak about continuing that partnership.”
Ms. Bridgeman nods. “Correct. Now, we are going to be late if you don’t hurry. It’s not like you to take this long in the morning,” she scolds, but there’s a playfulness in her voice. I nod and quickly finish my meal. It’s not long before we are getting into my car parked out front and driving to the company.
Once we arrive, we are instantly bombarded by people asking questions, most of them regarding stocks and budgeting. The morning consists of several phone calls, lots of paperwork, and a few small meetings with CEOs and other higher-ups within the company. Every action I make is mechanical and every word I speak sounds robotic. I don’t usually notice how orderly my days are and how rarely they differ from each other, but of course, this isn’t like any other day.
Soon my meeting with my father’s French business partner is starting. His people take up half my office, while the other half is taken up by my people. Multiple deals are introduced and many of them are declined, which only leads to arguing as everyone tries to come to some kind of agreement. During all of this, though, I find my eyes wandering to Ms. Bridgeman for not the first time today. Her desk sits outside my office and is visible through a pair of large windows. Her brown eyes are glued to her computer screen, her face hard with concentration as she works on whatever assignment I have given her for the week. Her face is small, but her eyes are big and round. I’ve begun to notice how she always ties her light, brown hair up into a delicate ponytail, a few loose strands caressing the sides of her face. She wears a light layer of makeup that leaves her skin looking soft and her cheeks rosy. I’ve learned that she sticks to light-colored clothing, her blouse typically white or pastel pink with a matching light-colored skirt.
“Henry?” My eyes snap away from Darcy and to Christopher Petly, our company's Head of Finance.
I give him a questioning look as I realize that I haven’t been paying attention this whole time. I cough and quickly straighten in my seat.“Yes?”
Mr. Petly gives out a nervous laugh and looks around the room. “We were wondering if you liked our final idea?”
I swallow and look around the room, twenty or so eyes looking at me with curiosity. “Um,” I begin, not really sure what to say for I have no idea what their final idea is. “Well…”
Mr. Petly leans closer to me, his voice a whisper. “Are you feeling okay, Mr. Chatburn? You’ve seemed distant this entire meeting.”
I smile and nod. “Of course I’m fine,” I start, “I just think I’m not in the best headspace for this meeting right now. Perhaps we should reschedule?”
Mr. Petly gives me a questioning look. “With all due respect, sir, it was really hard to set this meeting up. If we reschedule, it could take us weeks to come up with something. Months even.”
I stand up and everyone's eyes go wide with confusion. “Then I will need a couple of days to think things over,” I announce. “I will look over what we have come up with so far and I will give you a call regarding my answer.”
I then begin to leave the room, Mr. Petly’s voice piping up behind me. “I’m so sorry,” he assures the French businessmen in the room. “He’s not normally like this. I’ll make sure he gets back to you as soon as possible.”
Many voices chime in and the bickering continues as I walk out the door, but that’s a mess for me to clean up later. I know it’s dangerous to pull a stunt like this, but right now I can only think of one thing. Well, one person.
Darcy looks up at me with a shocked expression as she quickly stands up. “M-Mr. Chatburn,” she stammers. “Is everything okay? You have a strange look on your face.”
My smile widens. “Have you never seen a smile before, Ms. Bridgeman?”
She looks down, her eyes full of curiosity as she chooses her words carefully. “Well,” she begins, “I’ve never really seen you smile quite like this, I guess.” She looks back up at me and then to the room behind me with a worried expression. “Everyone sounds so upset, though. What happened?”
I laugh and begin walking away. “It’s nothing we need to worry about right now,” I say. “Come with me. I believe it’s lunchtime.”
She quickly hurries after me and we quickly make our way outside. “I’ll be right back with your car-” she begins, but I cut her off.
“Let’s walk today.”
I’m greeted with another confused look from her, but she nods and smiles awkwardly. “Of course, sir.”
I take a deep breath as we begin walking the busy streets of the city. The sidewalks are filled with all kinds of people commuting to and from whatever they are doing. Darcy has to walk fast to keep up with me and I steadily slow my pace. This must be something else I have never noticed about our working relationship. My legs are much longer than hers, meaning they carry me much farther. Her feet must always be so sore from having to keep up, not to mention she’s always wearing heels.
It’s not long before I have us stop outside a restaurant. It’s not the typical place I would choose, but this isn’t any typical day. While spacing out at the meeting earlier I came to a final decision: I’m going to confess to Darcy. Tonight. I haven’t been this nervous about something since the day the company was passed down to me, but it’s something that I need to do. I can’t hide my feelings any longer.
We enter the restaurant and are seated almost immediately. Darcy gives me another questioning look when I hold her seat for her to sit in, but she doesn’t say anything. We both order and eat in awkward silence. Normally Darcy would watch as I eat before we continue on with the day, but today I insisted she eat with me. I realize now that this is our first time sharing a meal and I can understand how uncomfortable this must make her.
After we eat, we make our way back to the company. I continue to look at her the entire way back, not really sure what to say. She also remains quiet, a puzzled look on her face. She must be wondering why all the sudden changes. She’s probably thinking I’m strange but feels like she has no choice but to go with whatever I want. The idea of her not having a say in anything infuriates me and I stop both of us before we enter the company building once more.
“Ms. Bridgeman,” I start, my voice coming out much more formally than I initially intended. She gives me a startled look but nods carefully as I continue. “If I ever… Say or make you do something you do not wish to do, please let me know. It is never my intention to push you or make you uncomfortable. So please… Speak up from now on.”
Her face is blank as she regards me. “Mr. Chatburn, are you sure you are feeling well? You haven’t been acting like yourself all day.”
“Henry,” I add in before turning away from her. “Call me Henry.” I don’t hear her muttered response as we get back to work. The day goes by much slower than I wish, but I’m also grateful for it because it gives me a chance to think about how I’m going to confess. I’m still not entirely sure how I’m going to do it and I’ve been trying to judge how she feels about me, but everything about her is so professional and stoic that figuring something out like this is deeming impossible. I guess I’m just going to have to go into this blind.
Evening falls and the sun has already gone down by the time we are back in my kitchen. Darcy is already starting to cook dinner for me, but I stop her and begin to help. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her eyes on my back the whole time.
Now, I’ll admit: I’ve never exactly done any cooking myself. When Darcy isn’t here, I usually make something simple that involves nothing more than my microwave. So it really shouldn’t come as a surprise when my pan catches fire.
My eyes go wide as the flames grow bigger and I throw the pan down in fear. Suddenly, though, Darcy is there and putting the fire out, a fire extinguisher in her hands. She laughs after the flames are gone and looks to me with a smile “I guess that answers my question about whether you cook for yourself or not.”
I look away sheepishly and laugh softly. “Cooking wasn’t really on the agenda growing up. It was always about the company.”
She gives me a sad smile but says nothing as she reaches over to clean up the mess I’ve made. As she does so, though, I grab her wrist and she looks up to me in shock. “Mr. Cha- Henry,” she stutters. “What are you doing?”
I look at her, not really sure why I grabbed her wrist, but we are suddenly much closer than before and that’s all the confidence I need to finally do what I’ve been wanting to do for the past several months.
Without putting much more thought into it, I begin to speak. “Darcy Bridgeman,” I start, “I know that this is sudden and that I’ve been acting out of character for the past several days, but it is all with good reason.” I watch her carefully, afraid that she’s going to pull away, but she makes no such attempt. Taking this as a sign, I close my eyes and lean forward, my heart pounding in my chest as our lips meet for the first time. We stay like that for a moment, neither of us moving. When I finally pull away, her eyes flutter open and a smile spreads across her face.
“Mr. Chatburn,” she smiles. “It’s about time.” With that, she leans forward and kisses me again.
