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Later on, just as I climb in my bed, my phone beeps.
Christopher: Are you asleep?
Instead of replying, I call him.
"Hey!"
"It's good to hear your voice. I feel like it's been a month since I saw you." He sounds impossibly tired. Checking the screen, I realize it's almost midnight.
"You've been working until now?"
"Yeah, I just got out of the cab and am about to enter my hotel." Straining my ears, I pick up the street noise in his background, which promptly turns to silence as he presumably steps inside the hotel. "It's going to be that kind of week too."
"So you'll be back in a week?" Turning on one side, I curl my knees up to my chest, trying to reign in my excitement.
"Miss me already?"
"Just a little," I tease him.
"I need to send more flowers next time, then."
"I love the ones you sent. They're perfect. Back to what we were saying. You'll be back in a week?"
"Probably two. I don't see us wrapping this up in just one week, even if we work throughout the weekend."
"What happened?"
"We bought a packaging company here. Before that, the packaging was done externally, but we wanted to integrate that part of the process in Bennett Enterprises, so we purchased this company in Seattle. From the preliminary meetings and analysis, it looked like the integration would run smoother than it actually has. Today was insane."
"And you still made time to send me flowers," I say softly. "You're amazing."
"I took care of that before getting on the plane. I figured if I only do one thing right today, it was going to be sending you flowers."
I simply sigh in response, my heart doubling in size. "You're so good with words."
"I can’t wait to be back home to show you my other talents too. I need to go to bed now though. I'm dead tired."
"Good night, Christopher."
Over the next few days, I learn that the quicker you want time to pass, the slower it moves. Christopher and I send each other text messages throughout the day, but we don't get the chance to talk. Still, those messages are enough to keep my ecstatic mood—and slightly manic grin—in place. "Girl, you're going to pull a muscle from so much smiling," Isabelle says during our weekly catch-up lunch. "Any chance it has something to do with one Christopher Bennett?"
"It does," I admit, feasting on my turkey salad, trying to school my expression. "It turns out I am falling for his charms."
"I'd be surprised if you didn't. Besides, once you're done having his furniture delivered and installed, he's no longer our client." Winking at me, she adds, "I think we should change that rule anyway to ‘We can't date asshole clients.’"
"Yeah, but it's hard to tell the assholes from the good guys in the beginning," I remark. "Hence the rule."
“You know what? Helen and I should drop by your house sometime this week so the three of us can catch up.”
“True, I haven’t seen her in a long while.”
Isabelle leans slightly over the table, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Feels exciting to break the rules though, doesn't it?"
My grin is so wide I think I might actually pull a muscle.
On Friday afternoon, while enjoying a well-deserved eggnog and inspecting a Halloween display in a shop I pass by downtown, my phone rings. Christopher.
"Well, well, well," I greet. "I was just thinking about you while enjoying my first after-hours eggnog today."
