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“You were right. I should have been working.”
I feel terrible now. “I didn’t… I mean, that remark wasn’t aimed at you.”
“That doesn’t make it any less true.”
I move closer, and although I don’t sit on her desk, like Miles was, I lean against it, looking down at her. “Please don’t feel uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want.” Her eyes widen slightly and she gazes up at me. “I only came out to ask how you’ve been getting along this week.” She frowns, looking doubtful. “What’s wrong?”
“Miles just asked the same question,” she says.
“Oh, I see. And this feels like a conspiracy?”
She smiles. “I’d say coincidence more than conspiracy.”
“Ahh… but the difference is, I care about your answer.” Her gasp is almost inaudible, but the flush on her cheeks is unmistakable. “I mean it, Livia. I want to know how it’s been, if there’s anything you need, or anything I can do to make things better for you… easier for you?”
She blinks, her eyes fixed on mine, and her smile widens. “You’ve been so kind already.”
Have I? I’m not aware of having been especially kind. I’m just aware of loving her so much it hurts. I can’t mention that, though, so I stick to work… for now.
“You call it kind that I’ve made you work late?” I ask.
“You didn’t make me work late. You asked me to. Although I’ll admit, I’m looking forward to the weekend.”
“Oh? Are you seeing your boyfriend?”
What the hell is wrong with me? I might have been dying to know if she’s free, but why did I have to blurt out the question like a desperate teenager? She must think I’m such a loser now. But what can I say? I can’t tell her that love does crazy things to your brain. That would mean explaining how I feel about her, and while I don’t mind her knowing, I don’t think now is the best time… not given the shocked expression on her face.
“I—I meant I was looking forward to sleeping for as long as possible.”
Her voice comes out as a staccato whisper, like she’s struggling to believe I just asked her that, almost as much as she’s wrestling with giving me a sensible answer.
“So, you don’t have a boyfriend?”
It doesn’t seem so bad asking the second time. And, allowing for certain ambiguities in her response, I really need to know. Besides, I’ve already made a fool of myself once…
“No. I don’t. Unlike you.”
Even before she finishes speaking, she claps her hand across her mouth, her cheeks flaming red. She definitely didn’t mean to say that, but now she has, I’m more than intrigued and I lean in just a little closer to her, lowering my voice.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I don’t have a boyfriend, either.”
She lowers her hand. “Sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t what I meant. I just thought… I mean, I read…” She stops talking again, incapable of finishing a sentence.
“What did you read?”
She lowers her eyes, staring at the desk. “That… that you’re a playboy.”
“Oh, I see.” She looks up again, and it’s impossible not to see the glistening in her eyes. Does that mean she’s going to cry? I edge closer, but she doesn’t move away. Thank God. “I know what they say about me, Livia, but I promise, that’s all in the past. I’m not that man anymore.”
She sucks in a slightly stuttered breath, biting on her bottom lip and smiling as she does so, and my heart feels like it’s bursting in my chest. Can it be? Can it be that my answer meant something to her? Is it possible that I mean something to her? Please don’t let me be imagining that…
She opens her mouth to speak, and I hope against hope she’s not going to shoot me down in flames.
“I—I…” Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the telephone on her desk, which makes her jump. She takes a breath, then reaches over and answers it, “Hunter Bennett’s office. How can I help?”
I’m not sure I’m capable of coherent thought, let alone speech, but she sounds so professional. Did I read her wrong? Was she going to tell me she didn’t believe me… or that she didn’t care? I watch her as she listens to whoever’s on the line, my mind in turmoil, my heart in stasis.
“Just one moment, please,” she says, and then she glances up at me, her brow furrowed, and a look of hurt filling her eyes. What’s happened now? She reaches forward, putting the call on hold. “It’s someone called Ella… for you.”
