Mr. Hotshot CEO Read online

  And that’s okay. I do not need to be perfect.

  My phone rings. I grab it off the table beside me, expecting it to be Naomi, but it’s not.

  “It’s Julian. Could you buzz me up?”

  My heart nearly stops when I hear his voice.

  “Yes,” I whisper, and then I let him in downstairs.

  I spend the next two minutes pacing my living room, freaking out in a different way than when my father came to visit me.

  Julian is here.

  My mind immediately jumps to unimportant reasons for his visit. Maybe I left a T-shirt or hairbrush behind.

  But I know that’s not the reason, even before I open the door and see him standing there with a terrarium, a large book, and a takeout cup that I know contains a gingerbread latte. He’s wearing a suit, and his serious gaze is fixed on me.

  “May I come in?” he asks.

  I gesture him inside, and he puts everything on the coffee table before sitting down. If it were me, I probably would have dropped the latte and spilled it all over the floor, but Julian does so many things with ease. I take a seat beside him, my heart thumping from being so close to him after so long.

  Well, it was only a little over a week, but it feels like longer.

  He hands me the book. “This is for you.”

  The cover of the book is blue, with purple flowers and green vines and a few butterflies. There are no words on it.

  I laugh as I realize what it is.

  It’s a scrapbook.

  I open it up. There are two photos on the first page: one of Riverdale Park with downtown Toronto in the distance, and the other of Julian lying on the grass. There are paper frames around the photos, cut-out daisies along the bottom of the page, and the words “Riverdale Park” in purple letters. The next page says “Chinatown East” and includes a picture of Julian shoving a pineapple bun into his mouth.

  “I wish I’d taken more photos of you,” he says.

  There are pictures of us eating gelato, drinking cocktails, and standing at the top of Mont Royal. He’s printed out the pictures I gave him and turned them into a scrapbook, and I swear, every single page looks like it could be in a “How to Scrapbook” article.

  “Did you take a class?” I ask, struggling to form words. “Private lessons?”

  “No, I just poked around on the internet and went to a store to get some supplies. Paper and decorative punches and various other things.”

  I chuckle. “How long did this take? It looks like more than an afternoon’s work.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says quietly. “It was worth it. I loved my two weeks off with you, and I want us to always remember them.” He takes my hand and squeezes it, then gives me the gingerbread latte. I was just drinking tea a minute ago, but I’ll never turn down a gingerbread latte.

  He points to the terrarium. “I didn’t make this myself, but I thought you’d like it. You can name the plants. I figured I’d leave that task to you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I made a list of forty-eight things I could do for you, and I probably could have stuck with one, but I didn’t.”

  “Forty-eight,” I repeat.

  “Forty-eight. It’s easy to think of gifts for you, but...” He pulls a pen out of his pocket, as well as a small spiral notebook with flowers on the cover. “Maybe this is the most important. You’re going to tell me what I should do when you need support, which things will help in different situations. I promise, I’ll do whatever you need, and I promise, it’s not a hardship for me to do so. We just need a strategy, and you’re in control of that, not me. I’m not going to tell you that you have to try every new drug that’s been developed in the past five years, or that you should subject yourself to electroshock treatments. You’re the expert on your health, not me. I do think maybe we could investigate psychotherapy options that might not have been available to you before, but you can say no. It’s fine. You...” He cups my cheek. “You’ve lived with this for a long time, and I think it’s amazing how you’ve managed to make the best of it and enjoy your life. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have a relationship. You can have me, and I promise to always be there for you. I’m sorry I got angry at you the other night, but I will do better and I think—I know—we can make it work.” He manages a small smile. “I do not fail.”

  I feel vulnerable and raw and... I can’t explain everything I feel, but I want to burst into tears and grin at the same time.

  “You don’t have to worry about me working all the time,” he continues. “I’ve been a bit better since my forced vacation, and my dad is going to come back to work two days a week to help me.”

  I shake my head. “He doesn’t have to do that.”

  “He wants to. My mom wants him to. I don’t think men like my father enjoy total retirement. He couldn’t work right after his heart attack, but he’s healthy now, and he’s driving my mom nuts at home. It’s not like he’ll be working full-time.” Julian slips his hands through my hair. “Tell me we can try again, Courtney. I think you’re wonderful. You did what everyone in my family thought was impossible: you kept me away from the office for more than two weeks and taught me how to have fun.”

  “That’s hardly a miracle.”

  “I disagree. I was missing so much...until I met you. I love you.” He fumbles with something in his pocket and then holds up a promise ring. It’s white gold with a star made of small diamonds. “I promise I will not leave you. I will always be there for you, and I will always listen to you. You don’t have to worry about this ending.” He holds the ring to the tip of my ring finger. “May I?”

  I nod, and he slides it on.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper to myself. “I can do this.” I look up at him. “That’s how I talk to myself when I’m overwhelmed.”

  “And you’re overwhelmed now—”

  “In a good way. Don’t worry.” I wrap my arms around him. “I love you, too, and I deserve to love and be loved in return.”

  It’s a big step for me to say those words.

  We hold each other for a minute, and then he dips his head at the same time as I tilt my head up. We kiss slowly, savoring each other.

  Even though Naomi put the idea in my head a few days ago, it’s still hard to wrap my mind around it all. I can have this, even though I told myself for a decade that I couldn’t. My depression hasn’t been solved, but with Julian, I’m less scared of the next few months. I have him as well as my sister, and I have other people who will be there, too.

  I am so lucky.

  And I will be okay.

  We’ll have many more gingerbread lattes and pineapple buns. We’ll bake chocolate chip cookies and eat the dough. We’ll go on vacations—probably fancy ones, since Julian can afford it, not that I care, as long as I get to travel. Late-night conversations. Middle-of-the-night sex.

  I’m still overwhelmed at the thought of all the things we’ll do together, all the great moments we’ll share.

  And even when things aren’t great, we’ll have each other.

  I pick up the notebook and pen, which Julian has placed on the coffee table, and stare at the blank paper, tears blurring my vision.

  He thinks I’m the one who performed a miracle, but he did, too. He made me believe in myself in a way I never could before. He showed me that I’m a pretty damn amazing and desirable woman.

  I have a CEO boyfriend now, and that might seem like the stuff of fairy tales, but I don’t doubt we are right for each other.

  “Could we do this later?” I ask, flipping through the blank pages of the notebook.

  “Of course.”

  I climb onto his lap and bury my head against his shoulder. It’s such a pleasure to be held like this, but there’s something that would make it even better.

  I grab the package of gingersnaps from the table. I take one out, break off a piece, and feed it to him, and then he feeds the rest of it to me.

  “Everything’s better with gingersnaps,” I say, but the truth is...


  He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear before saying exactly what I was thinking.

  “Everything’s better with you.”

  Epilogue

  Courtney

  Eight months later...

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” I ask Julian.

  “You’re the birthday girl,” he says, giving me a peck on the cheek before opening the fridge. “You’re not supposed to do any work.”

  I head to the living room and wait for our guests to arrive.

  There’s a birthday party for me tonight at Julian’s penthouse. Well, our penthouse, I guess, since I recently moved in. Julian is cooking—I don’t know what, though I keep asking questions—and our families will be here at six. Yes, both of our families. This will be the first time our parents meet.

  The last eight months haven’t been perfect, but they were better than the previous three times I was depressed. I think it’s over now—it was shorter than the other episodes. Julian and I went for a long walk yesterday. We passed by a garden, and when I saw the tulips, I just wanted to smile and enjoy their beauty. I no longer feel like I’m moving through molasses and seeing things through a thick fog. Now, everything seems bright and colorful and alive.

  I didn’t have to take leave from work, so that was an improvement. There were several rough days at the lab, but I made it through, and I’ve started being interested in my research again. I had some therapy sessions with a few different psychologists and finally found one I like. I think that may have helped me improve faster than the other times. Being in love and having a better support network were helpful, too.

  Love can’t cure my depression, but my relationship with Julian has enriched my life and made it easier to deal with the difficult times.

  I look at the promise ring and smile.

  Naomi and Will are the first to arrive. My sister and I had a good trip to New York City back in October. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I would have if I hadn’t been depressed, but it was helpful for me to have a break from my regular life. Naomi’s financial situation is better now, and she moved in with Will a few months ago.

  Jeremy, Lydia, and Heather are next. Heather is ten months old. She recently started crawling and likes to get into all sorts of trouble. Today, she’s wearing a sailor dress.

  “Look at you!” I say, taking her from Jeremy’s arms. “Aren’t you cute?”

  She smiles at me. She’s got a few teeth now.

  One day, I will have this, too. I never thought it would be possible, but it is. And, yes, Julian and I have talked about it, and he is on board with the plan.

  Julian’s parents and grandmother arrive a few minutes later.

  His grandmother looks at the baby in my arms. “You must have a baby of your own soon. I’m ninety now. Might not have much time.” She pats my shoulder, then fingers the sleeve of my floral-print dress. “Very nice. You have big seduction plans after everyone leaves?”

  “Ma!” exclaims Julian’s mother.

  “What? Courtney and I are having a serious conversation. No interrupting.”

  I’m glad my parents weren’t here for that exchange.

  Julian’s mom shakes her head. “It’s lovely to see you, Courtney. You look well.”

  His family knows about my problems. I didn’t want to tell them at first, but in the end, I figured it would be easier. I was a little surprised the world didn’t come crashing down around me when they found out.

  Vince arrives next, carrying a bottle of wine.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hire a clown,” I say. “Or a petting zoo. Julian told me about your ideas.”

  Heather, who is now sitting in Lydia’s lap, perks up at the words “petting zoo,” though I don’t think she understands what we’re talking about.

  “No,” Vince says, “just the best wine for my sister. It’s the one you liked the other night.”

  “I’m not your sister,” I protest.

  “Aw, come on. We know you will be soon.”

  This is true. I give him a smile.

  Cedric arrives with another bottle of wine, and my parents are last. They look around the penthouse like they’re in a museum. They’ve only been here once before, and they still can’t believe I’m dating Julian Fong. Of course, they love him and fawn all over him to a rather embarrassing degree.

  My parents aren’t the biggest supports in my life, but unlike the previous few times I was unwell, we didn’t fight on a regular basis. My father never snapped and said it was all in my head. It was a relief not to have to worry about what they would say to me.

  I introduce my parents to Julian’s parents. They immediately start talking about wedding plans—go figure—and grandchildren. Charles Fong says some nice things to my parents about how they raised a wonderful daughter, and I can feel my cheeks turning pink. My parents beam at me. I’m sure they never imagined Charles Fong talking about their daughter like this. They tell him how the Toronto Chinese-Canadian Center helped them when they first moved to Canada.

  I return to the kitchen, where Julian is putting the finishing touches on a green salad with fresh figs and goat cheese. My heart swells at the sight of him.

  “How’s it going out there?” he asks. “Any fights yet?”

  He’s joking. Neither of us anticipate any problems.

  He sweeps me into his arms. “I don’t think anyone will mind if we take a minute to do this.”

  As he kisses me on the lips, I wonder if anyone will miss us if we head to the bedroom for five minutes and—

  “I knew it!” says a high-pitched voice. “You had seduction plans.”

  “Po Po,” Julian says, “you’re not supposed to be anywhere near the kitchen tonight. Go out there and enjoy yourself.”

  “I did not come into kitchen to cook the whole meal. Just to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “I know what I’m doing, I promise,” he says, then winks at me. “I’ve done lots of cooking lately.”

  Vince walks into the kitchen. “What’s going on in here? Am I missing all the fun? Is there a petting zoo after all?”

  Julian, his arms still around me, shoots him a glare.

  His grandmother takes Vince’s hand. “We will go now. It’s getting hot in here.”

  Vince, however, is unable to leave because he’s doubled over in laughter.

  When we’re alone again, Julian brushes the hair back from my face and gives me one final kiss on the lips. “I suppose I should get back to cooking dinner.”

  “I suppose you should,” I say, reluctant to leave.

  When I look at him, all I can do is grin. A year ago, I never would have imagined having a happy thirty-second birthday dinner with a boyfriend and our families.

  I still have my struggles, and my life isn’t perfect.

  But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  * * *

  Julian

  I cooked a great leg of lamb, if I do say so myself, and Courtney practically drooled when she saw the chocolate-raspberry cake I made. It tasted as good as it looked, too.

  We had sex after everyone left. Now she’s sleeping, her head resting on my shoulder, and I’m stroking her hair. I still can’t get over how beautiful she is, and she’s mine.

  My life used to be a non-stop cycle of work, but I was missing out on so much—as she’s shown me. Now I have a good balance of business and pleasure, and I’m in no danger of burning out. I do things like bake lemon squares for no particular reason and read on my rooftop patio with a bottle of “old man” beer and a novel. What’s the point of having a rooftop patio and gorgeous views of the city if you never take the time to enjoy them? Courtney particularly likes when I read shirtless on the patio, though I never seem to get much reading done when she’s up there with me. Strange how that happens.

  In the past few weeks, I’ve also done some scrapbooking in secret. I have another surprise—and another ring—to give her when we go back to Montreal for Canada Day weekend.


  I know she’ll say yes.

  The terrarium is doing well. Joey the Cactus is doing well. He’s started growing toward the light, and he’s a little less...erect than he was before.

  But enough about cacti.

  My father is enjoying being back at work part-time, and Mom is thrilled he’s stopped his amateur efforts at carpentry. Raymond is now president of Fong Investments, and he’s taken over some of my responsibilities. Po Po has yet to play Chinese opera at my office.

  Courtney is well now, too. There were a few difficult months, but at no point did I ever think of leaving her. I’m glad she, too, had faith I would always be there.

  She’s the most important part of my life, and she’s changed me for the better. Somehow, my impulsive decision to give her five thousand dollars to teach me how to have fun turned into something truly amazing.

  “I love you,” I murmur.

  She doesn’t open her eyes, but she mumbles, “I love you, too.”

  Yes, sometimes I do important things at work that involve great sums of money, but the best moments in my life are moments like these, when I get to hold the woman I love.

  I turn out the light and settle my head on the pillow, right next to Courtney.

  I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Farah Heron for beta reading the manuscript, and to my editor, Latoya C. Smith, for helping me make this book the best it could be. Thank you also to Toronto Romance Writers, as well as my husband and father, for all your support.

  About the Author

  Jackie Lau decided she wanted to be a writer when she was in grade two, sometime between writing “The Heart That Got Lost” and “The Land of Shapes.” She later studied engineering and worked as a geophysicist before turning to writing romance novels. Jackie lives in Toronto with her husband, and despite living in Canada her whole life, she hates winter. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking, hiking, eating too much gelato, and reading on the balcony when it’s raining.