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“I didn’t cook, I bought some good Italian and I’m reheating it. And the bubbly was already in the refrigerator, so why not.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Don’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.”
He smirks, shaking his head. “I nearly got into a fight with a shopkeeper girl this morning, I’m pretty sure I already got into enough trouble.”
“Here’s to trouble then.” We toast each other and drink.
“Come on, take a seat.” He guides me to the table. “Tell me everything.”
I sit down and he faces me on the same side. I start talking about how it went, from the first moment I walked into the gorgeous, spacious, modern offices, to meeting everyone, to getting acclimated with Easter. I end up putting my feet in his lap, and he absently rubs them as if he knew they were aching.
“Everyone was so nice. I mean, seriously, couldn’t have been more welcoming, but it was still overwhelming.”
“You’ll get used to it. Give it a few weeks.”
I sigh and throw back my champagne. “I know you’re right. And seriously, Gareth, that job is everything I hoped it would be. I’m just worried they’ll realize I’m a fraud.”
“You’re not.” He refills my glass. “Far from a fraud. You keep forgetting that I hired you, and I’m the hardest boss in the world.”
“That’s a good point, you are a real bastard in the workplace.”
“And you’re a delight. Don’t get down on yourself.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” I nod slightly, grinning. “Look at us. It’s weird how comfortable this feels.” I regret saying it as soon as it’s out of my mouth, but I can’t take it back. His eyes flash to mine, but instead of anger or discomfort, he’s smiling.
“I actually have some news.” He squeezes my right foot then slowly leans forward. “It’s about Boston.”
“Got an apartment?” I ask, since he hadn’t mentioned anything about his living arrangements in a while. My guts feel soft and squishy. I thought I could handle talk about his move, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it would be better if we pretended like it had already happened.
“Actually, no, and I need to tell my realtor to stop looking.” He reaches out and takes my hands. “I’m not going.”
His words are like gibberish. I stare at him, not comprehending. “Are you going… a little later?”
“I’m not moving, Fiona. I’m not going to Boston at all.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, desperately trying to process, refusing to let myself feel hope. Life’s kicked me in the teeth enough lately—I don’t need more pain. “Did the Crowleys say you could work from here?”
“No, they didn’t, and I suspect they won’t once they realize I’m never coming out there. But I’m not moving to Boston, no matter what. I’m staying here. With you.”
“Gareth,” I say quietly, confused. “I don’t understand.”
He shifts forward, off his chain, onto his knees. He’s still holding my hand, clutching it tightly as he looks up into my eyes. “I need to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I look around, not sure what’s happening. “For what? I don’t get it.”
“I fucked up, Fiona. I didn’t know what I wanted until I met with Liam and everything clicked into place.”
“Liam? You mean that crazy Crowley guy?”
“The one and only.” He shifts closer. “I’m so, so sorry. I never should’ve pushed you toward the job. I never should’ve taken you for granted. I should’ve made it clear, from the start, that you are important to me, that whatever we’re building between us is important. I know it’s complicated, me and you, but it feels good, it’s the best thing I’ve had in my life in a very long time, and no matter how hard I try to push you away, I keep finding myself coming back. I can’t stop, Fiona. I don’t want to stop.”
My head’s spinning. It’s everything I’ve wanted to hear and more. I try to speak, but words refuse to come out.
This is what I need. Gareth here with me. I can forget about the job, about Boston, about the Crowleys. I can forget my parents, Cait, my burned-down apartment. I can forget everything, so long as he’s here with me.
But I’ve been afraid. He pushes me away, over and over, every time we start to get close. He pulls back, probably because of his past, or maybe because he doesn’t trust himself. I’m not sure why, but it doesn’t matter.
This is what I’ve been dreaming of.
