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If I were a photographer, I would capture the look on his face and name that
portrait “Indecision.” His brows are furrowed in confusion, his eyes are intrigued,
and his lips are a grim line of disapproval.
“Ah, sure…but not for long, I have to check in with my pregnant fiancée to see

if she needs anything,” he agrees slowly.
My expression is frozen into a tight smile because I do not know how to feel. I
am not sure if I should be offended that he feels the need to give me that disclaimer
because I would never troll for dates at seven-forty in the morning just after
introducing myself as HR. Or if I should be pleased that he thinks enough about
his fiancée to low key give me or any woman that approaches him the “I’m taken”
warning.
“I bet. She is due next month after all. I had to review your paternity leave
request and since you’re the only one, it’s easy to remember.” It’s my turn to pat
his shoulder. Well, part of his arm since I’m not quite tall enough to reach his
shoulder without considerable effort. “Don’t worry; it’s not work-related or about
anything that would betray your fiancée’s trust.”