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Zoey exhales, grabbing another wine before she answers. “It’s not that I don’t want to work at Holden,” she starts. “I’ve worked there in some capacity for as long as I can remember. It’s just that I want to make a name for myself, you know. And maybe one day I’ll work there, but I want it to be on my terms and when I’ve proven I can do this on my own. It’s important to me that I don’t just ride on my family’s name, even if that’s what people think.”
“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” I say, my hand gently squeezing her neck.
“Yeah, I know,” she says, nodding. “I don’t, not really, but anyway, that’s why.”
Smiling, I lean in and kiss her again, unable to stop myself. “Well for the record, I’m very glad you wanted to make a name for yourself.”
“Is that so?” she asks, smiling against my lips.
“Uh huh.”
“So can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I reply, chuckling.
“Have you ever been married?”
Her question is so not what I was expecting that I let out a loud laugh, shaking my head as I reply, “No, I haven’t.”
“Engaged?” Zoey asks, still smiling.
“No,” I reply, laughing again as I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out why she’s asking me this.
“How come?” she now asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “Guess I never found someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with,” I say, gently squeezing her neck again, even as the wordsuntil youflash through my brain.
“So have you ever dated a work colleague before?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“What about a younger woman?”
“You are full of questions today,” I say with a grin. Zoey lifts a shoulder in a shrug as she takes another sip of wine, waiting for my answer. “So, I dated a twenty-five-year-old when I was thirty, does that count?”
“No,” she says with a smirk.
“Define younger then?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s asking. She gestures between us, not vocalizing it but clearly referring to the ten year age gap between us. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Does our age gap bother you?”
“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “Does it bother you?”
“Absolutely not,” I tell her. “I don’t even see it.” Zoey smiles now, nodding once as she finishes off her wine. “You have any more questions for me?” I tease.
“Yes,” she says, smiling.
“And?”
Her smile widens as she crooks a finger to beckon me closer. “Come here and kiss me?”
Chuckling, I close the distance, whispering, “You never have to ask for that, beautiful,” before I lower my mouth to hers and do exactly what she asked.
The rest of our time in Seattle passes far too quickly, and before long, it’s Monday night and the car is pulling into the airport. I’m half tempted to tell the driver to turn around and take us back to my condo because I am so not ready for this weekend to be over.
“Well, well, well, would you look at this,” Brandon says, waiting at the foot of the steps leading up to the private plane he booked for us, a huge grin on his face as he watches Zoey and I walk over.
“Oh jesus,” I mutter, my arm slung across Zoey’s shoulders. Of course he showed up, dying to know why I’ve been ignoring his calls and messages all weekend.
“Zoey, so nice to see you again,” Brandon says, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
