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Chris looked away, shaking his head at another one of his hints ignored. Even if she kept him friend-zoned, he knew there was love underneath her indifference; he'd felt it for quite some time. He'd felt it in her demeanor, her expressions, her actions. If she didn't want to admit it, then he wasn't going to force the feelings.
He heard her sigh. "Please?"
He looked at the frown on her face, wanting to say a thousand words, wishing to ask her how it was possible not to see his love. He'd presented his heart to her on his outstretched hand and yet she chose to ignore whatever it was between them.
Chris lowered his voice. "I'm just afraid he'll hurt you."
"I know." She smiled. "I'll come crying only to you if he hurts me. I promise. I know you'll break his bones."
He masked his face with a forced smile. She was right. He'd murder Xavier if he so much as made her frown. So he convinced himself that if she was happy, he was gonna endure.
He got up and walked toward her bag. "All done?" he asked. She nodded, still seated where he'd left her. He zipped it up and flung it across his shoulder. "Let's go! Abbott must be waiting."
He dragged his feet down the stairs in Giselle's bungalow. In the huge hallway of the house, under the golden chandelier, Chris saw Abbott waiting for his daughter so they could hit the road. He smiled as Chris put her bag down in front of him.
"How's my favorite boy?" he asked, raising his arm to pat him on the back.
Chris smiled at his role model. Abbott was a self-made millionaire who'd moved from Petrichor to Phoenix when Giselle was only five years old. As the childhood best friend of his deceased father, there had always been a warm familiarity between them.
"Good. Your daughter is giving me a hard time, though." He grinned.
Abbott laughed whole-heartedly. "You and me both."
Giselle came jogging down. "Are we leaving?"
Abbott's chauffeur picked up their bags and carried them out to load into the trunk of the car.
"Why don't you come with us?" Abbott shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, smiled, and looked at him expectantly. His green eyes matched Giselle's. His dimples overcame the wrinkles that formed around his lips whenever he smiled, which he constantly did.
"I would have. But I can't afford to take a break from work," said Chris. "I can manage to get one more client this month. I have a meeting on Monday."
He worked at Beaumont Publishing Agency as a manager, under Abbott himself.
"Oh, come on. You've already outdone yourself. The sales are skyrocketing. Sometimes I wonder if I'm needed at all."
Chris didn't know if he meant it jokingly or literally. "You'll always be needed. And you also know that I want to be a successful man," he paused, wondering if his inner thoughts were too cheesy, "just like you."
"Yeah, yeah." Abbott chuckled. "And you want to do it all on your own."
"You know me." He grinned.
"Can you two please stop bringing your office to my home?" asked Giselle, planting her hands on her hips.
Chris and Abbott exchanged looks. The queen had spoken, so they fell silent.
"Are we leaving?" she asked again. Chris glanced at her once. She shrugged, smiling cheekily.
"Let's," Abbott said to his daughter, then patted Chris on the back again as he said, "Take care, son."
"Yeah, you too." Chris smiled.
Once Abbott left, Giselle enveloped Chris's broad shoulders in her arms. He snaked his hands around her waist and hugged her body tightly. The strawberry scent of her hair intoxicated him.
He held back a roar of anger at how much he hated the fact that she was leaving, that he'd lost her to him, that Xavier's one year of love overshadowed his eighteen years.
She broke the hug after a good ten seconds.
He had to smile for her. "I'm going to miss you," he said, noticing how her emerald green eyes shone. Her pink lips stretched into a smile that warmed his soul.
