Page 46 of Meant to be Mine

“Of course.”

We were being so professional it was almost painful. We sounded like two people who had just met at a very formal conference. I hated it.

He straightened and picked up his folder. “I’ve got a call with the New York office at ten. You don’t need to be on it, but I’ll loop you in on anything that affects the stuff y ou’re helping me with.”

“That works.”

“Okay.” He tapped the folder against his palm once. “Good work on all of this, Kensey. Seriously.”

“Thank you.”

He went back to his office. The door didn’t close all the way this time. I exhaled slowly. Normal, I reminded myself. Breezy.

I worked through the morning with my head down. It gave me something to focus on that wasn’t him and the mistake we made. Was it a mistake? That’s the part I couldn’t figure out. I didn’t know if it was a mistake or if it was the start of something new.

By eleven I had cleared most of the green and yellow items and was into the orange ones, which were the medium-priority tasks that needed attention in the next week. There were things for the next event to get moving on.

Around eleven thirty I went downstairs to get a refill of coffee from the bar. I took my coffee back upstairs and found him leaning against the railing that overlooked the floor, phone pressed to his ear, laughing at something the person on the other end had said. He looked up. Our eyes locked.

He ended the call and straightened off the railing. “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Not out here.” He nodded toward his office. “Come on.”

I followed him in. He closed the door behind us. He didn’t go around to his side of the desk. He leaned against the front of it, arms loosely crossed, and looked at me. I stayed near the couch because it put the most distance between us without being obvious about it. And I could not allow myself to get any closer.

“We should talk about the other night,” he said.

“Okay.”

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He was putting on a very casual air, but he forgot I knew him too well. I could see right through the bullshit just like he could see through mine. “They already are, a little. I can feel it. You can feel it. And I hate that.”

“I hate it too,” I said honestly.

“You’re too important to me, Kensey. You know that.”

“I know.” I offered him a small smile. “You’re too important to me too.”

He nodded slowly, looking down at the floor for a moment before looking back up. “So. Champagne. Romantic setting. Fancy clothes.”

“Recipe for chaos,” I said.

“It was a crazy night. Things got away from us. Maybe because of the prom stuff.”

“Maybe.” I was saying all the right things. The sensible things. I was being mature and reasonable and completely full of shit, but I kept going. “It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”

“Exactly.” He seemed to relax slightly. “It was one night. We got caught up in it. That’s allowed.”

“It happens,” I said.

“And we’re better as friends,” he added. “We both know that. We’ve always known that.”

“We have.” I nodded. “And I go back to New Jersey at the end of the summer.” I shrugged.

“Right,” he said with a nod. “So we’re good?”

“We’re good,” I said.