“Mark?”
I push the tall, heavy door open.
“Hey, you.” His face breaks into a smile, and he comes around his desk to greet me. He wraps his arms around me and groans into my neck. “I missed your scent.”
My heart lurches at the feel of his lips against my skin.
“Phew, I thought you were upset about something.Because of the short message,” I admit, talking into his shoulder. I take a deep breath and sigh. I missed him too. That clean shirt, mild cedarwood, manly as hell scent.
He shakes his head against the side of mine, and then he pulls back, looking at me.
“No, I just wanted to send it as fast as I could,” he says, smiling.
“I’m scared,” I blurt out. Is the herbal drink giving me this bravery?
“What do you mean?”
“Surely you must know. I’m worried you’ll wake up one day and decide I’m not worth the risk. Whatever it may look like.”
He knits his brow, and I hate that I took his smile away. He brushes his thumbs over my cheeks where my dimples pop. I love when he does that.
“I told the chair of the board about us this Monday,” he says, his eyes burning into mine.
“Wow,” I whisper. “What does that mean? Is it—are we okay? I don’t know how boards work.”
“One step in the right direction, but he couldn’t give a clear steer. The board has the ultimate power over the company, so I’ll need to raise it with them.”
His voice is calm, but I can see his Adam’s apple working, his eyes travelling across my face.
“Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
He slides his hands down my neck, over my shoulders and down my arms, following his touch with his eyes.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering,” he says, pulling my attention back to him. “Why do you still do the atmosphere modelling now that you have this role?”
I open my mouth and close it again. It bothers him?
“It’s freeing, and fun,” I say and hear how defensive I sound. “I know it’s hard for others to understand, which iswhy I don’t broadcast it, but dressing up and sharing my creativity and energy really fuels me.”
There’s a war raging in his eyes. His jaw is working hard.
“It’s not about the job itself, you understand that, right?” I add. “It’s about the freedom of expression. I need to be able to be who and how I want to be. What’s the point of it all if we can’t be ourselves?”
He nods now. “Okay.”
“What is it you want to tell me, Mark?”
He sighs and cups my face again. He’s so intense I’m scared.
“I’m struggling with the idea that you will need to give things up for me.”
I scan his face as if it’d give away his thoughts. “Like what? My atmosphere modelling?”
He presses his lips together. “You won’t be able to continue as a concept artist here.”
“Oh,” I say. “Is that what the chair of the board said?”
He nods and puts his forehead on mine. “I don’t want to choose for you, Rey.”
