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“I brought a swimsuit, just in case,” I murmur, touching his beard with one finger.
“Did not.”
“Did. I’ve had swimming in the pool on my to-do list since I set foot in this building. I can’t resist.”
“Like you can’t resist me?” he fishes.
My smile is brittle.
“You don’t have to go home right after we open, you know.”
“I know.”
He nods, studying me quietly. Carefully. “Make your decision. You can tell me after the grand opening on Saturday.”
I don’t have to wait until Saturday. I already know I’m going home after the grand opening. But I don’t tell him that.
He leads me to the wading pool, which is finally complete. I’m so proud of this part of the night spa. The vibe is less chemicals and concrete and more spa getaway. Lush loungers with large square pillows and oblong ones for back support line one side of the pool. Between each lounger is a table with rolled towels on the bottom shelf and jar candles on the top.
He releases my hand and goes to a tall cabinet, coming out with a pair of stick candle lighters. Wordlessly we light the candles at each of the tables. He extinguishes the overhead lights and dims the pool’s interior lights as it starts to rain again. Outside, the trees sway in the wind as rivulets of water slide down the curved glass walls.
We strip off our clothes and he takes my hand, walking with me into the zero entry until he’s chest deep. The water is a liquid blanket, soothing tired muscles and coating me in its weightlessness. He lifts me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Nice work, Wildflower. This room’s my favorite.”
“Mine too.” My hands are in his hair, my lips magnetized to his. Whatever room he’s in is my favorite. I’ll miss him when I go home. But I can’t stay. I can’t. It’s a mantra that’s been looping in my mind for so long, and there is so much fear surrounding it, I’m not sure I fully understand my urge to leave.
“You really should stick around longer. We can do this again.” He looks admiringly around the softly lit room. It’s a fantasy come true, this place.
“Don’t you want to see a profit report first?”
He shakes his head, his eyes on mine. “Don’t need to.”
I debate saving my news for Saturday. Wouldn’t it be best to pad the blow? “I have to tell you something.”
He stiffens, and I smile to try and ease his worry.
“I have a job lined up. I’ve been calling around like you suggested.”
“With who?” His eyebrows pull to center.
“A company turning a gym into a wellness center,” I hedge. “I’ll be working in Miami again.”
“Congratulations.” His voice is monotone. “When?”
I can’t look at him when I say, “In two weeks. They’re in a hurry to open a new gym-slash-spa, so I’ll be busy for a few months nonstop. But at least I’ll have my first job on my own.”
“This spa was your first job on your own,” he reminds me. His eyes narrow. “You don’t want to do this new job, do you?”
“How did you—” I shake my head. “I have to. With a brand-new business, I have to take what comes.”
“No. You don’t. If this offer doesn’t fit into your life right now, turn it down and find another.”
“I don’t have your reserves in the bank,” I tell him quietly.
His hold on me tightens. I sense everything he doesn’t say. He would give me the money I needed if I stayed here with him. I could live next door indefinitely.
“I want to be close to my family.”
