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My phone chimed with a text.
I picked it up.
Thinking about me?
I smiled.
Maybe.
I wasn’t ready to tell him that I couldn’t think about anything other than him. I knew it was too soon. I knew a month of dating and sleeping together wasn’t long enough to bare my soul. Even though it was as if Vaughn knew my soul. He knew parts of me no man had touched. Pushed me to a ridiculous Internet search. I was embarrassed.
Want to go somewhere this weekend?
I stared at the phone. Was he asking me to leave town with him? I scrambled through the schedule in my head, dying to tell him yes.
What were you thinking?
My responses were much calmer than my feelings.
I know this place a few hours away. Lots of wine.
I held the glass I had poured. He wanted to go to one of the wineries. I’d heard people at work talk about them. Fall was apparently the best time to go. Holy shit. I imagined an entire weekend with Vaughn on vacation.
I’d love to go.
He typed back quickly.
I’ll make the reservations.
Perfect
I had a deposition on Monday with Lana Foley, but I could still make this work. I’d have to tell Vaughn we needed to leave earlier on Sunday, but I wasn’t going to say no. I’d work my ass off the rest of the week to prepare.
It was the without a doubt the most intimidating and daunting case of my life, going up against a U.S. senator. But Vaughn was just as important. I thrived with him. I needed him. A flash of hesitation whipped through me. Was it irresponsible to put Lana’s case behind my relationship with Vaughn?
I convinced myself I wasn’t doing that. I had the rest of the week to prepare. And it wasn’t as if a deposition was the same as being in the courtroom. I had a long way to go on her case. This was only the beginning. The first stride in the marathon. Right now I wanted to spring to Vaughn.
On Friday afternoon I skirted past Meg, shoving files in my messenger bag. I still
had to pack a suitcase and change for our drive to the winery. I made a list of what to pack. If I hurried, I could throw it together in ten minutes.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Weekend plans.” I smiled.
“That’s all you’re going to say? You never leave early.”
I paused in front of her desk. “It’s with a guy.”
“Really? That sounds serious. A weekend trip. Wow.”
I shrugged, trying to downplay the significance. “It’s just a quick trip. I’ll be in Monday for Mrs. Foley’s deposition.”
“I’m not worried about a deposition.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me who the guy is. That’s more interesting.”
“More interesting than prosecuting a senator who had an affair and fired his mistress when she got pregnant? Your definition of interesting is skewed,” I teased.
“Oh come on,” she whined.
