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I know I agreed to keep our relationship under wraps, but maybe this is a baby step in the right direction. Hope blooms from deep within my chest that maybe, just maybe, I’m finally learning to trust.
“You’re probably right,” he says, pulling away to bring us back to a proper boss-employee distance apart. When my frown catches his eye, he lowers his voice. “Hey, it’s not forever. Just for now. Meeting you was my destiny.”
His sweet words and wink revive my smile, but before I can slip him a kiss, he steps back.
Noticing the envelope, he asks, “What’s that?”
It would be so easy to tell him about the tour with Sin. The strange encounter and Sin’s bizarre escape. Why can’t I take the envelope out and open it with Derrick? Share something,anything, with my boyfriend of nearly a year.
I slide the unmarked envelope from my pocket, flipping it aimlessly. “Just a letter.”
“I’m running to the post office after work, then I’ve got a meeting. Need me to mail it for you?”
“I’ve got it,” I say, forcing a smile. “Meeting?” On my birthday?
Derrick has taken several meetings this week away from the office. And another dinner meeting? This can’t be good.
His nod is reluctant, and I know when to back off. But I offer him all the support he needs, cuddling Mr. Whiskers against his neck. And like Sin before him, Derrick can’t help but crack a smile.
“You and that ... cat.”
I don’t know what word he mentally used to fill in the blank betweenthatandcat, and I don’t care. I’m tired of being ruled by my stupid doubts. And they are stupid.
But I tuck Mr. Whiskers back into my pocket, leaning closer to Derrick’s rigid stance. “I need something for luck. I mean, we can’t all have a lucky polo.”
IVY
“Table for two. Under Brooke Everly,” my best friend says, rescuing me from a birthday dinner for one of mac and cheese.
“You reserved a table?” I ask as we’re seated, surprised because we never get a table. We always sit at the bar.
“The strongest they have ... so we can dance on it. It’s your birthday!” She squeals loud enough that absolutely everyone is looking. “And just because your boyfriend has to work doesn’t mean we celebrate less. After this, it’s karaoke time.”
Her elbow nudges mine, and I know she’s serious. My throat dangerously tight, I choke down the ball of fear with a few sips of the chilled water our waiter has placed in front of me.
Brooke instantly demands two tequilas. Both for her. “And keep them coming,” she tells the waiter.
We’ve plowed through our first basket of chips as she tosses back her second shot.
“So, let me get this straight,” Brooke says as she taps her lip with her index finger. “Some mysterious good-looking guy books a tour with you just to deliver mail and check out your ass?” She slurs the wordassand motions for the waiter. “Tell me he at least offered you a lap dance.”
“He did not.”
“Fucker. So, what did the letter say?”
I shrug. “It’s still in my pocket. I got busy, and—”
Her eyes widen. “You didn’t want to open it in front of Derrick in case it’s a dick pic.”
I deadpan. “Who would print out a dick pic?”
“A man who fills the page. You can’t open it until after dinner. Birthday present number one.”
Laughing, I shrug and dunk another chip into hot, gooey cheese. “Good-looking, yes. But more than twice my age, at least. And we all know twice my age is my hard limit.”
“Really? I’ll bet he’s still hotter than Derrick. You rarely spend the night at his place, and we both know he’s never at yours. Plus, he never takes you out. Ever. What kind of eighty-year-old boyfriend is he?”
“For your information, he’s thirty. And I’m trying to be supportive as he builds his career.”
