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“Let’s say you might have a point,” I said. “Where would this stroll take place?”
“The High Line.” The smile grew wider, which only made it harder for me to not kiss it off.
“That sounds like a good idea for someday.”
“No.Today.” She cocked a hip. “Check your calendar, Mr. Fairchild. It’s already in there. Are you ready? We’re almost late for your sanity break.”
My workaholic tendencies had me itching to craft a viable excuse. I just wanted to stay holed up in my office, mulling and stewing and stressing, like I always did.
But she was impossible to resist. Impossible to reject.
“What areyourreasons for needing a stroll?” I was already pulling my office door shut, readying myself to leave.
“Part tourism, part exercise, part excuse to get out of the office.” She sent me a wink, slinging a small but stylish backpack over her shoulders as she jerked her head toward the hallway. “Plus, I saw in some pictures that they have some autumn cherry trees there, which are my personal favorite.”
“Oh yeah?” I smiled, recalling the autumn cherry tree in the driveway of the house where my parents used to live. “My mom and dad—”
“Had one at their old house,” she finished for me with a conspiratorial smile. “I know. I’ve loved it foryears.”
This seemed like important information to tuck away. “What do you love about it?”
She shrugged, getting a wistful look in her eye. “They’re so beautiful. It’s like a surprise. They spend the entire year blending into their surroundings and thenbam. Wild and crazy surprise out of nowhere.”
“Reminds me of someone I know.”
Her mouth parted as understanding shivered across her face. We shared a sweet and meaningful look.
“Plus, they remind me of home,” she said with a shrug, like shaking off the secret compliment I’d given her. “We said goodbye under that cherry tree before you went to college. I’d have brought it to New York with me if I could. I love that autumn cherry tree.”
I loved how she talked about the whole thing. The nostalgia mixed with the warmth and the admiration. “You make me want to go pack it up and bring it here just for you.”
“Don’t do that. I don’t think the tree would like that much. I’ll just go admire it someday when I get back around to Oakville in the fall.” She sighed, clapping her hands together. “Now are you ready to maintain your sanity?”
Hell if I wouldn’t snap up the chance to shift gears and get away with only Jessa. If we hadn’t been in the office, I would have taken her fucking hand and kissed her the entire way out of the building. But instead, I followed her and imagined all the things we’d do when we got there.
The more I got of her, the more I wanted, which ran contrary to the blinking neon light in the back of my subconscious that readThis is only temporary.
I didn’t want to listen to the smart, rational thing for once.
I wanted to follow sweetness. Flirty-ness. Something that didn’t feel fucking heavy.
I just wanted to follow Jessa.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JESSA
It was 3:59 p.m. on Saturday, and I was pacing my apartment so quickly I thought I might pass out.
Actually, nearly everything made me almost pass out today. Whether it was pacing or bending or staring into space, it was a bit harder than usual to breathe.
There were a few reasons. Primarily, it was the Programmer’s Ball. The first ever gala I’d planned was a mere two hours from beginning, and my anxiety was on a roller-coaster spiral inside me.
I was also wearing my newest dress design. It had been created with this event in mind—my dress was absolutely going to match the drapes, in a non-sexual sense—but more than that, it included Mr. Mitchell’s latest challenge to us, which was to incorporate a corset.
My breathing had become shallower. Was it anxiety? Was it the corset? It was likely both, and I fought to focus on anything other than the fact that I couldn’t get a deep gulp of air. Because that only made me want a deep gulp of air evenmore.
Damn this corset.
