Best Friend's Ex Box Set

He approached me and reached out his hand, shaking mine formally. His words were cordial. “Thank you for taking the time out of your Sunday for this meeting.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. President,” I stated, sitting down. We were so many feet apart. I couldn’t imagine that our lips would ever come together in such a world as this.

Xavier suddenly sputtered into action, then, calling the waiter. “Yes. Yvonne will carefully explain the menu we’ve orchestrated for the evening,” Xavier began.

Yvonne cleared his throat. “We’ll begin with a divine Mediterranean platter, with a bit of antipasto. Afterwards, we’ll have a brief bread course, followed by the soup. Then, we’ll have a main dish—duck—followed, of course, with dessert.” He bowed before me, making me feel nervous—like I needed to clap. Instead, I just laughed, feeling like a fool.

“That sounds wonderful,” I said, bringing my hands together.

“The president and his work associate will dine momentarily,” Yvonne stated then, skirting back toward the kitchen.

I allowed the silence to hang between us for a moment before I said anything. “Yvonne is really excellent.”

“He’s wonderful. I enjoy all the people I have on staff.” He sipped at his wine, gazing at me. There was such intimacy in the air. “How was your weekend?” he finally asked.

I bit my lip for a moment, remembering all the lost hours I’d spent daydreaming about him. “It was nice to get away from work for a little while,” I whispered.

He nodded. “I hope the polls haven’t dropped too much since you went away.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You know I’m far too careful for that.” I raised my eyebrows, knowing that I was insinuating something else—an affair that wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t go on.

The food swept in then. The first course. Then the second. The president and I busied ourselves with small talk—much of which put me nearly to tears with its hilarity. I slurped the soup and nearly squirted it out, yelling out, “Stop it, Xavier! You’re going to make me choke to death!”

“I can’t help that I’m the funniest president since Clinton,” he said simply, his eyes bright.

I bit my lip, feeling the soft candles as they glittered their light across my eyes. I searched around me, noting that the Secret Service was outside the door, 20 feet away. I leaned over the table and whispered toward him. “This dinner is really perfect, you know that?”

Xavier shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “I wanted things to be special for you. I don’t get out of my apartment or the Oval Office often. And I have a feeling that you don’t get out much, either.”

I shook my head, bowing it a bit. I didn’t like that Xavier could see through me so well. It was like he knew my every thought, my every need. I placed my spoon next to my bowl—the soup bowl I’d scraped clean. “Should we do a bit of talking about work?”

Xavier gave me that crooked smile once more—that dark, penetrating stare. “Why stop now?”

The main course and the dessert were, once again, completely perfect. I felt that my soul was rejuvenated after such a hefty few days of anxiety, of continuous daydreaming. I felt like Xavier was welcoming me back into the world. And it was a beautiful, luxurious one at that.

I tapped on my stomach and gazed around the room after the meal, as Yvonne took our plates away.

“What are you thinking about?” Xavier asked me, gazing at me through the candlelight.

“That I’ve never had a more perfect day,” I whispered, hoping no one in the world would ever hear those words. They were private, for him and I. For no one else.

Chapter Eleven

Xavier pushed himself up from the table, a bit uneasy on his feet. He smiled at me in that crooked way. I was falling in love with him in each passing moment. But I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

“Did the wine go to your head?” I asked him, teasing him. I felt a lightness about myself as well.

He reached out his hand to me and I accepted it. We stood there together, in the shell of the candlelight. I couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes, feeling such a weight in me. Every time I was with him, the world around us seemed to calm; I seemed to forget every element of my responsibilities, of my dreams. I could just be. There was a freedom in it.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked me then, his words a bit sloppy.

My eyes coursed toward the doorway, where I could see the Secret Service walking and talking, a bit anxious to go home.

I shook my head. “Too many witnesses,” I said, my eyebrows going high on my forehead. I felt silly, for some reason—up for anything.

Xavier nodded, stepping closer to me. I half-expected his mouth to come toward mine, to engage in that kiss once more. Deep in my heart, in my stomach, I wanted it—I wanted so much more, as well.

But instead, he whispered in my ear. “Do you want me to take you home?”