Looking every inch the CEO, even though he was still in his jeans from earlier, pacing in front of the window with a Bluetooth attached to his ear. He must have picked up another call.
“No, if we can’t give them benefits like that then the turnover rate is still going to be that high. Gym memberships and health care for every IFC employee that comes over, they keep their vacation, and we have thirty days of sick leave and if you argue with me one more time about parental leave for dads, I’m going to fire you.” He sighed. “Great, keep me posted.”
He turned then.
I almost dropped the coffee and jumped into his arms.
Instead, I held it out, my jaw still slack.
He smiled at me. “This is a nice surprise. Didn’t I just see you, oh, I don’t know, an hour or so ago?”
“Yeah, well, now that you’re stuck with me . . .” I beamed. “Heard you’ve been hitting the hard stuff already.”
He lifted the coffee in the air. “Yeah, well, I don’t know how he ever made it through a day without constant coffee.”
“It made him jittery.” I offered the information freely. “And since caffeine made him shake, he didn’t want people to think he was nervous or irritable, so he drank decaf tea.”
Bridge made a face. “Poor guy.”
“Yeah, well, he did still have his one cup every morning.”
“I hate that we’re talking about him like he’s not coming back, like we need to talk about his memories because he won’t have any more to make.” Bridge set the coffee down on his desk and crossed his arms. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I nodded. “Yes.” I cursed myself. “I don’t know, I just, I needed to see you. I know some of the things I said to him sound crazy, and I’m just all over the place, and I thought if I saw you then I would—”
He interrupted my ridiculous speech with a soft kiss. He held me in his arms, and I felt myself instantly relax. He wasn’t telling me he had to go to a meeting, or that I needed to schedule time with him even though I knew he was busy.
By holding me in his office.
By giving me time.
He was giving me the world.
And mending a heart that had been ignored and set aside for too long.
“If you ever, and I do mean ever, ask me to make an appointment to see you, I’m kicking your ass.” I mumbled it against his shirt and smiled when his laughter shook both of us.
“Noted. Anything else?”
“I’m making dinner.”
Bridge’s eyes softened. “What were you going to make?”
“Well, I hadn’t gotten that far yet but I thought I’d call your mom and . . . maybe get some of your favorite recipes, and—”
That earned me another kiss, this one more punishing as his tongue pushed past my lips while his hands moved to my hips pulling me against him.
We broke apart, panting.
I reached for him again.
This time he pulled away. “I really, really don’t think you understand how much I want you, Izzy.”
Oh, I could tell alright.
His shirt wasn’t the only thing that was tight.
“Hurry home, then?”
Bridge cursed. “You’re making me want to take a sick day so I can crawl into bed with you.”
“A few hours won’t kill you.”
“It might,” he said through clenched teeth. “Izzy, this needs to be your choice, alright? Because right now I’m not really thinking clearly. All I see is you, all I want is you, and I’m selfish enough to take whatever you offer me, so you have to be sure.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I know.”
“We won’t come back from this, it’s the one line . . .” He bit down on his lip and looked away. “It’s the one place we can’t come back from, the one thing he won’t ever forgive us for.”
My eyes welled with tears. “I know.”
“Okay.” He kissed my nose. “I like you, Izzy.”
“Like you too.” I kissed his cheek one last time and left the office, this time with a giant grin on my face and a huge sense of foreboding hovering over every step I took.
Hours later, I was still thinking about the scene at the office, so much so that when Bridge walked in the door, I was staring into my empty wineglass like it was some sort of crystal ball.
“Drunk already?” came his familiar voice.
Warmth rushed to my cheeks. “We’re lucky I’m not perpetually drunk after the last few days I’ve had.”
“True.” He kissed me on the top of the head like it was normal, like we’d been living this life for a while, like I was cooking for him after a hard day at work, and he was getting ready to ask me about my day.
It was normal.
Not forced.
And I couldn’t help but compare it with all the nights I’d fix a meal and Julian would be an hour late, apologetic and all smiles like it wasn’t a big deal, when it was.