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“What made you change your mind?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, pulling back to look at me. “Everything was going according to plan, but it felt…all wrong. And when it was time for the procedure, I just couldn’t do it. I kept thinking, how can I do this to the man I love, much less without him?”
“Not that you need me,” I joked.
“Of course not,” she said, her eyes glittering with gratitude. “But I want you. I really, really want you.”
“I want you, too,” I said. “So from now on, please don’t try to make any babies without me.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
“And I’ll stop pretending there’s anything casual about my feelings for you.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
I kissed her again until her hips ground against me, and for a moment, I thought we were going to start trying right there on her wide desk. But our impassioned embrace was interrupted by the opening of her office door.
“Oh. Jesus. I didn’t mean to—”
I turned towards the man’s voice and willed him to leave immediately.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt.”
Maeve covered her mouth and cleared her throat, rolling her shoulders back in an effort to regain her composure. “Kurt,” she said, failing to dim her vibrant blush. “It’s not a good time.”
“I-uh—”
Was he deaf?
His stuttering stopped when his eyes met mine, and his expression brightened with recognition. “Hey, aren’t you the guy from that band? With the brothers?”
I turned towards Maeve and gave her my best is this guy for real? face.
“This is Kurt,” she said, pointing a reluctant palm towards him. “My deceptively capable colleague.”
Even without her hinting, the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know.
“Would it be totally inappropriate to ask for an autograph?” he asked. “It’s just, my-uh-friend…”
Maeve rolled her eyes.
“She’s a big fan,” he continued, proving once and for all that he didn’t have a tactful bone in his body, much less any sense of decorum.
“Yes,” Maeve said, clearly mortified that he would ask such a thing. “It would be totally inapp—”
“It’s cool,” I said, making a lazy gimme gesture.
Maeve folded her arms with an audible huff.
Kurt handed me the manilla folder he was carrying and retrieved a pen from the front pocket of his shirt.
“What would you like it to say?” I asked, holding back a sneer as I poised the pen over the paper.
Kurt glanced at Maeve sheepishly before cleaning his throat.
Meanwhile, I fought the impulse to punch him in the nose, even though I quite liked the idea of him skulking out of her office with two eyes instead of the four he came in with.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “For Britney, maybe? Whatever you usually write is fine.”
