Page 92 of Married to Lies

My cheeks were hurting from how sweet this all was. I unzipped the garment bag and gasped at the contents, a white cashmere matching set from one of my favorite designers. The material felt so lush and soft under my fingertips that I got it out and put it on immediately.

Feeling like luxury in my new, perfectly-fitting outfit, I padded to the kitchen and opened the fridge. On the top rack, there was a takeout box with a Golden Café sticker on it. Near the label was another note.

I’d love to cook breakfast for you, but my mom already told you it’s better if I don’t. Heat for thirty seconds. And check the coffee pot. -Q

My lips twitched as I took out the box and noticed the contents were exactly what I’d had on our date at Golden Café. Stuffed French toast and candied bacon with a side of maple syrup. My mouth was already watering, and my stomach growled encouragingly.

After taking out the syrup container, I popped the box in the microwave and went to the coffee machine. But instead of coffee in the glass pot, I saw hot water with chai-flavored tea bags inside.

There’s a milk frother by the coffee pot if you want it. Milk is in the fridge. Enjoy your meal at the table. There’s a beautiful view out the bay window. -Q

The microwave went off, and while the food cooled, I made my own version of a dirty chai. Butterflies danced in my stomach realizing that Quentin had all the money in the world, but he hadn’t just bought me expensive items and called it a day; he’d used his time and thoughtfulness to show me that he cared.

I took my coffee to the table and then got my food from the microwave. When I set the tray down, I realized there was one last note. My lips parted as I saw what it said.

I’ve fallen for you, too.

41 Aaric

I looked out a window on the private jet, seeing mountains protruding from once flat prairie.

When Simon told me back in September that I’d be leading the founders’ retreats, it made sense. I was the chief operations officer, the one in charge of ensuring cross-team collaborations went smoothly. Managing a company of this size was no easy task, but this retreat might prove my hardest challenge yet.

Aboard the private jet, Jude and Bryce were as far apart as possible without sitting on the wings.

Jude wore headphones, his laptop in front of him on the table. His lips were drawn into a firm line, pretending to be absorbed in work.

And I say pretending because every so often, his eyes drifted to Bryce.

Bryce sat across from Cruz at a small table with a game of chess between them. Bryce’s sole focus was on the game—that, and tossing good-natured jabs back and forth with Cruz. The two were the most competitive players I’d seen.

Quentin sat in one of the reclining chairs with an eye mask on and bright-orange earplugs shoved into his ears. A light-blue weighted blanket was pulled up under his chin. Cruz had made a joke earlier about Rei keeping him up all night, only for Quentin to glare back at him. But I swore I saw Q’s lips twitch like he was holding back a smile.

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “As we approach the mountains, expect some turbulence.”

I straightened in my seat, bracing myself for a drop. I didn’t mind flying so much; it was the feeling of the plane dropping in the sky that I didn’t like.

“YES!” Cruz shouted, jumping to his feet.

I snapped my gaze toward them and saw Bryce glaring good-naturedly at our friend. “Remember this moment. Won’t happen again.”

Cruz danced, pointing at Bryce. “I beat you! You said it wouldn’t happen, but look who proved you wrong!”

Jude pulled off his headphones, giving them an annoyed look. Neither of them noticed.

“Rematch on the way back?” Bryce asked Cruz. “I can’t let you bask in victory too much longer.”

Laughing wickedly, Cruz said, “Maybe I won’t ever play you again, and I’ll be the winner for the rest of time. A painful reminder of the time you lost.”

Bryce rolled his eyes, lips twitching like he was fighting for his life to hold back a smile.

I looked back down at my computer, putting the final touches on the retreat itinerary. Simon had told me that each retreat needed to have a written goal or it was just a pointless vacation. So I wrote my goal in a private note on my computer: a reconciliation between Bryce and Jude.

I approached the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the dining room and gazed at the view. Miles of snow-covered mountainside was visible with the sun edging ever closer to sunset. Dallas was home, but it didn’t have vistas like this. I’d happily spend the next few days enjoying it.

Turning back toward the twelve-person table, I saw a private chef bringing a bowl of salad. She went back to the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on our first meal here.

Knowing my co-founders wouldn’t be fond of my plans, I set printed itineraries by each place setting. They were all in their rooms unpacking, but at six, they started coming out for dinner.