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“I would have married Scarlett even if it meant I’dneverbecame CEO,” Crew tells me. “And that’s why I think you should give Quinn a chance. Allow yourself to have more than work. I promise you Candace isn’t sitting around punishing herself.”
“You can’t just shove two people together and expect they’ll fall in love, Crew.”
He shrugs. Grins. “It worked for me.”
I roll my eyes. “And I’m happy for you and Scarlett. It’s just not the reality for most people.”
“Are you going to ask Quinn out?”
I exhale. “Yes. It’d be nice to have a conversation without both of our families within earshot.”
Crew smirks. “So…you got her number?”
“No,” I admit. I spent most of dinner worrying whether Scarlett was going to tell Crew about Hannah, and what his response might be if she did. Aside from some basic questions, I barely spoke to Quinn.
Crew reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. When he unfolds it, I realize it’s a cocktail napkin. He balls it up and tosses it to me. “There you go.”
“Youasked for her number?”
He nods. “It was Scarlett’s idea. I told Quinn you asked me to get it discreetly, so you guys could set up a meeting without the pressure from your parents. Quinn called it a ‘brilliant idea,’ then gave me that.” Crew grins, and it’s a boyish one. He looks less like a work colleague and a lot more like mylittlebrother, for the first time in a while.
I flatten the napkin, staring at the neat digits. “Thanks.”
I’m surprised—touched—he made the effort. And I feel extra guilty for keeping Hannah from him, especially as the list of people who know about our marriage grows.
“Well, I’ll get out of here. Unless you need help with how to ask her out?”
I probably do, but there’s no way I’m asking my younger brother for dating tips. “I’m good, thanks.”
He smiles and stands. “Assuming you came in early and already finished the Cushings report?”
“Yeah. I sent it to Dad. You were on the email too.”
“This company would be fine without me, Oliver. You? Not so much.”
Before I can formulate a response—or really register his words—my phone rings.
“See you later,” Crew says, then leaves.
“Bye,” I call after him, then answer the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Oliver! How are you?” Garrett’s baritone booms across the line. I haven’t talked to him since we parted ways in the New York airport after returning from Vegas.
“I’m good, thanks.” Not entirely accurate, but the expected response. “How are you?”
He sighs, some of the cheerfulness leaving his voice. “Wedding is still on, if that’s what you’re asking. I told Sienna about Vegas. She threw my phone at a wall, which is why I’m calling you on your work line. Some of my contacts got erased when they transferred the data to my new phone.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure how else to respond to that.
Garrett chuckles. “Sorry. Too much information. Anyway, I wanted to see if you might want to grab a drink this weekend. Or dinner. All the craziness in Vegas, we hardly got to catch up.”
I look at the napkin Crew left on my desk. “You want to double?”
It’s been a while since I went on a proper date. I’m apprehensive about the prospect for a whole host of reasons. Going out with another couple sounds like lower stakes. And if Quinn and I do enter an arrangement, it will be a common occurrence.
“Double? You’re seeing someone?”
“Sort of. It’s new.”
