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“Hm…” I said to disguise the fact that I was dangerously charmed. "Clever loophole,” I mused, looking into the bag and back up at him. “Wait. Did you just buy me dinner?” I asked, unable to hold back my smile.
“Yes.”
“You don’t think I can feed myself?”
“Not if you haven’t left the house in three days. I saw your fridge the other morning – all you had in there were three eggs and I used them for your omelet.”
“True,” I relented, completely thawed at this point. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the steam from the bag. “Mmm. Smells good. I’m not sure what it is but I think I’ll like it.”
“You will,” Lukas said with a faint smile. And for a couple seconds, he stood there, gazing at me like I were some picture at a museum.
“You alright?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why. Something just felt the slightest bit off. But he recouped fast.
“I’m better now,” Lukas said. “But I’ll let you go before your dinner gets cold. It tastes best when it’s hot.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll know when you see it. It’s from your favorite place,” he grinned, giving a sexy little nod goodbye before stepping back and closing the door.
I stared for a bit, confused. But when I retreated into my apartment, I went straight to tearing into the food he’d ordered me. I couldn’t stop smiling when I saw what it was – paella.
14
LIA
“I look forward to speaking with you very soon.”
The line played on repeat in my head as I practically skipped across town from my meeting. Really though – what could that possibly mean besides anything good? I was genuinely trying to answer the question because I wanted desperately to keep my hopes down, or at least at a reasonable level.
But I couldn’t. I’d frickin’ killed that meeting and the cherry on top was my creamy lavender truffle tucked into my signature teal box, wrapped in a shiny peach ribbon printed with my name, Pope Chocolates. The product, the branding, my pitch – everything was completely on point and though I had no final word on anything, I needed to celebrate.
“You made it!” Sara squealed, her lithe arms outstretched as I angled my way through the crowd at The Margot. The swanky bar hosted her company’s Friday happy hour every week, and Sara had begged me for years to go but I never did. Top shelf open bar sounded like a massive hangover just waiting to happen so I had to decline.
But not tonight.
Tonight I was giving myself permission to take full advantage. I planned to drink, I planned to dance and I planned to scarf down a 2AM slice of pizza with Sara to cure the drunk munchies. I was giving myself the entire day off tomorrow, so for the next twenty-four hours, I was free.
The only thing I didn’t plan to do tonight was text Lukas.
I wanted to see him. I couldn’t deny that. He’d charmed my figurative pants off the other night by ordering me paella but I couldn’t afford to be around him this drunk. Whatever attraction I had for him was already too big too fast and I needed to slow it down. And since alcohol was never the key ingredient to slowing anything down, I nixed the idea of inviting him and decided to make it a girls night.
“So do you think it’s gonna happen? Do you think you got the deal?” Sara asked, squeezing both my hands so tight I could barely feel them.
“I don’t want to jinx it but…”
“You totally got it.”
I grimaced because I really didn’t want to jinx it but for once, I let myself be nothing but optimistic. “I… think I did.”
“Yesss!” Sara squealed so loud half the bar looked at us. I laughed as she forced me to jump up and down with her. “Oh my God, fingers crossed but even if you don’t get it, I’m so fucking proud of you and this calls for all the champagne. Come on!” She tugged urgently on my arm. “We can toast to your new business and I can introduce you to all my coworkers so they’ll stop saying I made you up!”
I laughed as we did exactly that, grabbing two flutes of champagne at the packed bar and mingling with all the coworkers who playfully doubted my existence since they’d heard about me for years, but had never met me.
“Honestly, you really seemed like Sara’s imaginary friend because none of us could believe she found someone as work obsessed as her,” giggled Willa, a raven-haired girl Sara described as “one of the good ones” at the office. “We wouldn’t believe you were real if it weren’t for the chocolates Sara brings us on Mondays. Lia, the rum raisin truffle you make? It might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thank you so much!” I said, blushing as a couple others chimed in about the “fucking divine” truffles of mine that Sara was known to bring in to work from time to time. I was normally squirmy and uncomfortable when it came to accepting compliments but for some reason, I was reveling in them tonight. I felt deserving of them for once – bright, happy and confident in a way I was pretty sure I’d never felt before tonight. Before this week.
