Page 88 of The Contract Marriage

“What? Don’t look at me like I’m terminal. It’ll be fine by tomorrow. Trust me. I’ve had worse injuries.”

“I’m not. I trust that you’ll heal.” I say that a bit too quickly, but I want to reassure myself he’ll be fine. Squirming, I clear my throat and change the topic. “Hopefully you’ll get to come home earlier.”

He grins. “I’ll see what I can do. I might be able to move some of my appointments—”

“No. Finish your work before coming home. That way it’s not lingering in the back of your mind.”

“You’re worse than having a boss,” Liam says with a mock grumble.

I snort. “And you’re too easy on yourself. But if you want, maybe we can have a lunch date every other week?” The suggestion pops out before I can think twice.

He brightens. “Okay! There are so many great restaurants we can hit around here.”

“They’re going to be workday lunches,” I remind him in case he’s thinking about lingering, multi-course meals. “My boss is tough and demanding.”

His face scrunches. “Can you get a new job?”

“No.” I smile. “We’ve worked together for a long time. It’d be difficult to separate at this point.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, so it’s a woman?”

“As it happens. Why?”

“Because if it was a man, I’d have to get jealous.”

I laugh. “It’s most definitely a woman, and she has zero interest in me. She’s married.”

He nods in satisfaction. I shake my head inwardly. I can still feel him inside me, and he’s acting like he might lose me to my “boss.”

When we’re done with our meal, I kiss him. “Don’t let anybody touch what’s mine.”

“Never.” He rolls the pavé ring around my finger, then gives me a look. “You either.”

I wave goodbye and drive back to the office. Although the lunch date offer was impulsive, from the way my belly flutters it was probably the right thing to do. He asked for dates, but we haven’t been able to get away very easily. Plus it’s unfair to ask him to plan everything when he has a big company to run and his own family obligations to juggle.

As I’m entering the office, I get a photo from Liam. Just a picture of sunflowers in a gorgeous vase, inlaid with blue and green stones, taking up space on his desk. He’s smiling goofily, his head on the desk by the vase. My face warms. He’s so…cute. My pulse starts to speed.

Oh my God, what was I thinking when I bought him all those sunflowers? I study the huge bouquet. They were just a whimsical gift, not supposed to mean anything, but somehow now they seem to matter way too much.

It’s Liam. That unguarded smile. The soft eyes that shine like his team just won the Super Bowl.

–Liam: Shoot, I totally forgot, but I think I’m going to be late tonight after all. Really sorry. We have a Happy Hour tradition after a deal is signed, and it slipped my mind. I wish I could skip it, but it’d look weird. So I’ll just stay for half an hour, and give them my expense card to party with.

–Me: That’s fine. Enjoy the win.

–Liam: :heart-emoji:

“Hey, you!” There’s a commotion from the other end of the lobby. And then, a different voice says: “Olivia!”

I frown and lift my eyes from the phone. Tyler?

His tie is slightly skewed—guess he doesn’t have an Emmie to tie it neatly—and his eyes are slightly bloodshot as he takes big strides toward me. Two security guys follow closely, but I lift a hand so they don’t tackle him. Yet.

“Did you know Brielle is broke?”

Took him a while. I give him a mild look. “Of course. Didn’t you?”

“She doesn’t even own the fucking car she drives!”