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Warmth floods me. It fills every space in my body. Even the spaces that are resistant to letting in anyone or anything that feels warm. “I’m going ice-skating. I’m not letting these fuckers stop me from that.”
“There’s the Adeline I know,” he murmurs.
I release a long breath as I stare out at the city passing me by. “It’s been a long week. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this unsettled and unsure. But you were right that day you said I’m not a quitter. I’m not. I will never just lie down and give up.”
“Good,” he says, and it feels like he needed to hear that from me. Like that was the whole reason for this call.
We end the call and I go back to Reese’s text.
Adeline: I just got in. I’m on my way to the office.
Reese: I’m glad. How are you?
Adeline: Tired. Looking forward to tomorrow.
Reese: If you can’t make it, I’ll be sure to send more cookies home with Jameson for you. I baked Vanilla-Butter Sugar cookies yesterday. Jameson already ate five of them, but I saved some for you.
And just like that, Jameson’s mother causes tears to well in my eyes.
I haven’t heard from my mother since she left last weekend. I don’t even know if she’s still in New York or back home. And not for lack of reaching out to her. She hasn’t bothered to return any of my calls or texts.
And here’s Reese texting me, asking Jameson how I am, worrying about me, and saving me cookies.
Adeline: Thank you, Reese. This means the world to me. I’ll see you tomorrow xx
Reese: I’m looking forward to it, darling xx
An hour later, I’m knee-deep in work at my office. I sit through a three-hour meeting with my top executives, and we go over the UK and European expansion plans. We also go over where the company stands after this week and strategize the way forward. Mario catches me after I leave the meeting, and we spend an hour working on fashion week prep.
I work by myself after he leaves and I’m starting to think about food at around 8:00 p.m. when Jameson strides into my office carrying bags of takeout.
I look up from my laptop and blink at him. My eyes are sore from all the computer work I’ve done today. “Hi.” I watch him place the takeout on the coffee table in front of my sofa. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
He eyes me. “Shantel checked in on you. She insisted I deliver you food.”
I frown as I push my chair back and stand. “What do you mean that she checked in on me? I haven’t heard from her.”
“She called your assistant who told her you haven’t eaten since you got in.”
I watch as he removes his suit jacket, sits on the edge of the sofa, and begins loading two plates with Korean chicken. I am here for that chicken.
“You’re wearing a three-piece today,” I say, walking toward him. The only time I’ve ever seen Jameson in a three-piece suit was on our wedding day.
He glances up from our food. He doesn’t respond to what I’ve said as his gaze drops to my body. Like he was distracted on the way to opening his mouth to speak.
“You almost never wear a three-piece.” I take the seat next to him.
My eyes are all over him in the same way his are over me.
I can never go past his forearms when he’s got his shirt sleeves rolled up. Which is always, so that’s a lot of not going past those arms.
“I had a board meeting today,” he says, still distracted. His gaze appears permanently fixed on my legs, which are visible thanks to the short leather skirt I’m wearing. Since it’s winter, I haven’t been wearing skirts. I’m only wearing this one because it’s a new design we’re considering, and I was testing it this afternoon.
“I’m not taking this skirt off. Or taking my hair down.”
He finally gives me back his eyes. “I don’t need the skirt off or the hair down for what I want to do.”
Jesus.
