And then, I picked up my phone and checked my calendar. 7:00 p.m. — Tulips.
She didn’t text me back, but she still hasn’t declined.
Game on.
The back of Tulips was quiet and intimate, without trying too hard. This is exactly what I wanted for tonight. I was already seated and waiting for her. I keep moving the bottle around, reading the label, but at this point, I’m just trying not to let the nervousness show.
When she walked in, my hands started shaking.
The hostess barely had time to gesture toward our table before Sam was making her way to me. She wore a deep green dress, short enough to grab my attention, but long enough to leave the rest to the imagination. Her hair was loose, long waves falling around her shoulders, and her eyes caught the light ina way that I swear, it made my heart skip a beat. But no red lipstick.
I stood to help her sit down, “No red lipstick, huh.” I said as she reached the table. She smiled, that sharp, infuriating, captivating smile. “Didn’t feel like following orders today.” I laughed softly, pulling out her chair. “And here I thought you liked a little structure.”
“I do,” she said, slipping into the seat with grace. “But I also like pushing boundaries. You seem to know that already.” She glanced at the bottle. “Already ordered?” I nodded. “A cab you’ll pretend not to like but end up finishing.”
“You’re bold.” I poured. “I’ve just gotten to know you.” She took the glass and raised an eyebrow. “That’s cute.” The waiter came and went, invisible and efficient. We sipped, we settled in, and suddenly it was like Paris again, playful, light, as if the last few weeks of boardrooms and glass offices had been a shared hallucination.
“So,” she said, crossing one leg over the other, deliberately, I was sure. “Is this a date… or a very fancy 1:1?” I set my glass down and tilted my head. “Do you want it to be a date?” She leaned in, chin slightly raised, fearless. “Yes.”
That one word, so sure, so unfiltered, made something sharp and warm twist in my chest. I smiled. “Then it’s a date.” Her eyes flicked toward the wine, then back to me. “Does it come with dessert?”
“Only if you’ve been very good.” She rolled her eyes and laughed, and for a moment, nothing else existed. “Define ‘very good,’” she said finally, her tone casual, but her eyes were not. I leaned forward, elbows on the table, smirking. “You wore that dress. That gets you halfway there.” She pretended to be scandalized. “So, I’m being judged by how I look now?”
“You’re being admired,” I corrected. “Wow, you’re being really charming tonight,” she said, taking another sip. “Is that a bad thing?” I asked. “The total opposite,” she replied with a smile. “You’re charming in an intense way. You walk into a room and make people feel as if gravity has shifted slightly. It’s… disorienting.”
“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” she said. “It’s annoying how much I like it, how much I likeyou.” There was a quiet beat between us, but I couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t think we’d be here,” I admitted. “After we saw each other that last time in Paris, I never thought I would see you again.”
She traced the rim of her glass. “Me neither. I thought Paris would be it. I didn’t expect what’s been happening between us; I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to happen. I don’t mean it in a bad way, I just?—”
“You just?” I looked at her. “You just wanted to say yes to a free dinner?”
“I did.” Her voice was quirky, and her laugh was something else, but then she got softer. “All jokes aside, I said yes because I’m trying to figure this out,to figureyouout. And I know we can’t do that in the office with all those eyes on us, the pressure, and everything. And, I’ve been enjoying all the… well, let’s say the experiences we’ve been having so far. But, I don’t know what this is.” I nodded.
“I get it, and honestly, neither do I.” She met my eyes. “I didn’t allow myself to feel anything for anybody, not after my divorce. I wanted to focus on my career, on myself. I didn’t want a distraction, least of all to find someone who makes me question everything I’ve been avoiding for the past eight years.”
The waiter reappeared, interrupting us to ask if we were ready to order. We murmured a few choices, laughing over the fact that we accidentally ordered the same entrée. When he walked away, she tilted her head. “You were saved by the waiter, but keep going, tell me something real,” she said. “Something outside Paris, outside the office, the sex, the hotel rooms. Tell me how you really feel about this, about me.” I blinked. “Right now?”
“Yes, Theodore, right now.”
I paused, looking at her, and, pushing my sanity, my control, and everything in between aside, I said, “I like you, Sam. More than I should.” I could see how her brain was trying to process what I just said. Her brows lifted just slightly, she opened her mouth, but she didn’t speak. “I know it’s fast,” I continued, voice lower now, rougher. “I know we haven’t exactly done things theconventionalway.” Her lips parted, but I wasn’t done.
“But, you're in my thoughts all damn day. You drive me crazy, Samantha. In the best and worst ways. I can’t concentrate when you’re near me, and I can’t breathe when you’re not. And I think—” I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly unsure to tell her all of this. I feel like I’m seventeen again. What the fuck is wrong with me? “I think I’m falling for you.”
She stared at me, and this time, I didn’t fill the silence. I let it hang. She leaned back in her chair, studying me like she couldn’t decide if I was being brave or foolish. “Okay,” she said softly. Like she’s still processing. “Okay?”
“I don’t know what this is either. I don’t know what it can be.” Her voice was careful now. “You’re my boss. This is my family’s company. And we’re… complicated to say the least.”
“But,” she added, slowly, like the words might shatter her, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time you made me laugh in that airplane. And I sure as hell didn’t fall into your bed, or on your desk, or the hotel room at the gala just because I wanted a fling.”
“So you’re saying…” She nodded. “I’m saying I might be falling too.” That did something to my chest I wasn’t prepared for. “I don’t want you to say something you are not ready to say just because?—”
“Theo, stop. I know what I’m feeling, I’m sure about it. I’m scared, but I’m willing to give this a chance, because you also drive me insane, in the best way.” We both laugh at that, at us, at everything. Idon’t know how I allowed myself to fall for her, but I’m so fucking glad she feels the same way.
We walked out into the cool night air, the city buzzing around us, and I reached for her hand without thinking. She looked down, then up at me with a crooked grin. “You’re a hand holder?”
I smiled, fingers lacing through hers. “Only with women who drink red wine and steal all the bread from the basket.” She laughed, and the sound did something stupid to my heart. “Well,” she said, squeezing my hand, “I guess you’re stuck with me now.” She was relaxed, glowing, actually, and I realized I’d never seen her like this in New York. She’d always had her guard up. A joke ready, a comeback for everything. But right now… she was soft.
