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She felt too good. I wanted this reverie to last as long as it possibly could, until it inevitably came crashing down around me.
Once we were tucked into the elevator, I wrapped my arm around her waist.
“This was a good idea,” I told her.
“I know,” she said sweetly. “And we haven’t even left the building yet. Just imagine what a good idea it’ll be once we actually get there.”
In the elevator, we kissed. Outside the building, we kissed. And then once I was in the driver’s seat and she was smiling over at me like we’d been doing this together for years, we kissed again.
Jessa programmed the GPS and I drove. Within hours, we were cruising through the New York state forests, deep in conversation about New York seasons compared to Kentucky, the native residents who’d been forced off the land in both areas, whether or not the cinnamon toast of our childhoods qualified as adulthood dessert. That’s what I loved about Jessa. She didn’t mind meandering through the most winding conversations, and we were both delighted to see where they led. The hills and sides of the road were blanketed in the faintest layer of snow, providing a dreamy backdrop as we wound deeper into this unexpected Friday afternoon excursion up the Hudson Valley.
I didn’t drop Jessa’s hand in a hundred miles—and didn’t even think twice about it.
Our getaway stretched on like this—effortless, laidback, completely fucking lovely. We checked into a log cabin that was equal parts rustic and luxurious, with bearskin rugs and enormous windows overlooking the sweeping hills of naked forests. We tried a new restaurant. We strolled hand-in-hand down cobblestone sidewalks, smiling red-cheeked at each other.
We spent every minute inside our cabin wrapped up in each other: on the bed, against the wall, in the shower, and even draped across a chaise longue at one point.
By the time we were heading back to the city the following day, I felt moderately refreshed. I’d enjoyed myself, that much was certain.
But the to-do list was crushing me again as new emails rolled in during our trip back south. Because I was driving, I couldn’t tend to them, which only stressed me more. Jessa read out the subject lines of new emails as they came in. A forwarded email from Axel was one of the subject lines she read:Some Solutions for the Leak
“Is that a penthouse water leak or another media leak?” she asked.
I laughed but it dwindled quickly. “Take a wild guess. Speaking of which, talk to me about the call logs you pulled up.” I squeezed the steering wheel, prepping myself for the inevitable disappointing news that she hadn’t found what I’d been hoping was there.
A burst of air escaped her. She rested her forehead in her palm. “Shit bricks. I meant to tell you when you asked yesterday after lunch.”
“What is it?”
“Damian, I didn’t get a chance to pull them.”
An annoyed burst of air escaped me. I didn’t like any of those words, but especially sentences that started with “I didn’t get a chance.” Successful peoplemadethe chance. That’s how it was in my world.
“When were you thinking of doing it?” I asked her, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. But it was impossible. Annoyance vibrated from every cell in my body. Stress gave me a thin trigger, and that comment had officially snapped it.
“Well, I was going to try to squeeze it in while we were away. But then I realized that wouldn’t be very getaway-like. If I can find the time tomorrow, I’ll do it then. But I need to get things set up for my new roommate, who's coming on Monday. So I think first thing Monday is more realistic."
All I could hear from her wasbut but but.
“Fuck.” I squeezed the steering wheel again. “I needed that info for the work I plan to do this evening. And who’s this new roommate?”
“Kendra. She’s amazing. We met up last week.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
She blinked over at me. “I didn’t realize I had to update you about my living situation.”
“You have a new person in your life that will be sharing your space, with access to your phone, laptop, sensitive documents.” I held out a hand, gesturing at how obvious this was. “You don’t think I should know about that?”
“I…I was going to tell you…”
“What’s her full name?” I snapped.
“Kendra Finneran,” she said quietly. “I swear I was going to tell you. I was excited for you to meet her. She’s excited to meet you too—”
“So she knows that you work for us?”
“Of course,” she sputtered.
