The One I Want

Both her hands cover mine, and she says, “There’s no proverbial mud to drag me through. I’m not Page Six-worthy material. Me sleeping with you won’t affect my job aspirations. But for you, it matters.”

“You said it yourself. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“In fact, you’ve done everything right.” We don’t order the empanadas because we’ve lost our appetite. “I think we should start talking, tentatively, about potentially moving in together.”

I forget all else the moment she says that. The woman who has a fear of commitment just tentatively, potentially committed to me. I’ll take it. It’s not a no.

Juni

I’m not sure what happened.

One minute, I was making plans with my boyfriend to move in with him, and the next, we’re treading even more carefully around the office.

Justin talked all right, to anyone who would listen. But thankfully, most people in the office either didn’t really care or didn’t let on. Although I got a few dirty stares. I don’t know why other than Mary became an ally, hinting the haters were jealous. She also said she’d known for a while and stopped staying during the lunch hour after overhearing something unmentionable. She actually coughed, but I got her drift.

Needless to say, we put a pause on the lunchtime rendezvous. No need to add to the potential fire.

Andrew’s family didn’t like the unwanted attention, however. They prefer to be the ones in charge of the narrative. They’re okay. Cookie even sent me a text that read: check please and had a laughing emoji.

At least she has a sense of humor about it. As for me, I can still feel the same mortification I felt at brunch when Tatum said sex with Andrew must be incredible. By the way, I told her it was.

His family’s support has helped both of us feel calmer and more . . . settled.

The past seven days have been weird, though. It’s the most time we’ve spent apart since we met. I’ve slept in his apartment some nights, wanting that sense of being with him, but the past two nights, I’ve been back in mine. I’m missing him more than I thought possible.

It’s Friday, and I’m still waiting for him to text me about how the meeting went with three of CWM’s wealthiest clients, tech giants who live in Seattle. From what I can gather, it’s been tough going.

33

Drew

I have two days to get back and pack my shit for Seattle.

My suitcase is loaded in the back as I slip inside the car. I shut the door and angle my legs in the dark back seat. “Hi,” Nick says.

“Fuck, dude.” I grab my heart. “You trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”

The car pulls away from passenger pickup to start the journey home. Home? I think that’s the first time I said that and meant it. I’m pretty sure that has more to do with a certain blonde than the apartment.

He says, “Actually, no, I wasn’t.” By his cackling, he’s enjoying that he scared the shit out of me a little too much. “There was no other way to prepare you.”

“How about a text that says I’m waiting like a creeper in the back of your car so don’t freak out, okay?”

“I guess, but what’s the fun in that?”

“None. That’s the point.” I still shake his hand, and we bump our shoulders together.

He chuckles. “Glad to see you, brother.”

Now that my heart has stopped racing, I say, “Good to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you only have a few days in New York before you have to get back to Seattle.”

Resting my back in the corner of the Town Car, I stare out the window. “I leave on Sunday because Monday is already booked with back-to-back meetings.” I pause, and add, “I hated being there when I lived there. This week wasn’t any better.”

“I swear Seattle is becoming punishment for the dirty deeds we did in another life.”

His tone catches me off guard. I’m used to my brother being happy-go-lucky these days, so the negativity is unusual. “It feels that way.” His shoulders are at his ears from the stress that’s riding him. His face unshaven and suit wrinkling from a longer workday in appearance than it’s just gone five o’clock.

Something’s going on. “I know you, Nick. You wouldn’t have come all the way out to the airport just to ride with me back to the city. What’s going on?”

“I thought you should hear it from family.”

Mentally bracing myself, I say, “What is it?”

He sinks back in the chair and runs a hand through his hair—a Christiansen tic. “The advisory board wants one of us to consider moving there permanently until the buyout is finalized with Beacon and off the ground running smoothly.” What the fuck?

“I spent months getting the operations division up and running. It runs steadier than the tides. The holdup isn’t on our end. As for the buyout, it’s a done deal. Two years in the making.” I remember where I am and lower my voice. “No one knew the attorney general would deny the original application. We thought it was done then, but local governments want to keep their money local. You worked on the contracts. We added the addendum to never move it out of city limits. We’ve jumped through hoops and bent over backward for this deal. Why do we have to live there to secure it? I thought that’s what we just did.” My frustration is getting the better of me. I just stepped off a five-hour flight, working nonstop. I’m tired, and I want to get home to Juni, to lose hours making love to make up for the time I’ve been gone, and then sleep until morning because I’m so exhausted.