Going Deep (Imperfect Love 2)

“Have you called Henry?” I ask, referring to his driver who always brings me home.

“Any chance I can talk you into spending the night?” He looks up from his phone and shoots me a playful grin. He may have a small dick, but he’s not hard on the eyes. Between his mop of blond curls, his striking emerald eyes, and the adorable dimple that peeks out of his left cheek when he grins, he’s extremely good-looking in that boy next door sort of way. And if I were any other woman, that grin would have me climbing back into his bed. But I’m not, and his grin does nothing for me.

“Sorry, it’s already after nine. I really need to get going. I have work in the morning.”

He nods, knowing there’s nothing he can say that will convince me to stay. I’ve been there and done that, and it will never happen again. Sleeping together leads to feelings, and feelings lead to your heart being shattered into a million pieces.

“See you Wednesday night?” he asks, getting out of bed to walk me to the door.

“See you then.” After grabbing my clutch from the table in the foyer, I turn the knob to open the door, when Paul’s arm snakes around my waist, and he pulls me in for a kiss.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against my lips.

“Goodnight.”

It’s a thirty-minute drive from the Upper East Side—where Paul lives—to Brooklyn Heights—where I live. I use the time to check my text messages and emails. I see one marked as urgent from my boss, so I click it open first.

Giselle,

please advise. Mr. Caprice has forwarded his wife’s requests, and she would like to discuss them with you tomorrow. Please confirm a time. He has listed times that will work for her.

Thank you,

Lydia Strickland

CEO

Fresh Designs, Inc.

I scroll through the requests and grin when I see everything Elizabeth Caprice is requesting are all the suggestions I made when we did a walkthrough of her home a couple weeks ago. With a degree and masters in interior design, my dream was to land a position with the largest interior design company on the East Coast, and I actually achieved it. I’ve only been working under Lydia for just over a year now, and while the pay is downright embarrassing since it’s an internship, I’m confident if I keep going the way I am, I’ll land myself a permanent position, with decent pay, soon enough. Most internships here last between one year and eighteen months. I just need to hold on a little bit longer.

After checking my schedule for tomorrow, I email Mr. Caprice back to confirm a time. When I feel the car come to a stop, I look up and see we’re here.

“Thank you, Henry,” I say before jumping out of the backseat like I always do before he can get out to open the car door for me. The poor guy must be in his eighties, and there’s no reason why I can’t open my own door.

“Goodnight, Miss Winters,” he calls out as I shut the door.

It’s a good ten-minute walk to the building I live in, so I pull up my sister’s name on my contact list and call her to see how she’s doing. She’s a sophomore at the University of Boston and lives in a sorority house, so there’s a good chance she’ll still be awake.

“Giselle!” she shouts into the phone when she answers, and I pull it away from my ear. A few seconds later, the noise is gone. “Sorry about that. It’s the Spring Social. The entire campus is like one giant party. How are you?”

I smile on the inside at how happy my sister sounds. She deserves to be carefree and enjoy her four years of college. I was worried when, during her senior year of high school, she came out that she’s gay. Not because I care which sex she prefers, but because I was nervous others might not be as accepting, and she would feel like an outcast at her school. I worried for nothing, though, because she’s excelling both socially and academically, and even has her first serious girlfriend.

“I’m good,” I tell her. “How was your first week back to school?” Adrianna has just begun her spring semester.

“So good! I got into the lab I was telling you about. It will mean taking fifteen credits instead of twelve, so I’ll have to work twice as hard, but I’m so excited.”

“The microphysics lab you told me about?” I confirm.

“Yes! It’s extremely rare for a sophomore to be approved to take the class, but Professor Gent said with my grades and the fact that I was the top scorer in her chemistry class, she feels I will be successful.”

“That’s amazing, Addy. I’m so proud of you.” My words come out slow, so she can’t hear the emotion laced in them. I swallow down the lump in my throat and swipe a falling tear, reminding myself this is why I’m doing what I’m doing. For Addy. And for mom.