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Adeline: I’m baking.
Mario: Makes sense. I’ll FaceTime.
A FaceTime call comes through, and I prop my phone against a container on the countertop. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk through some design ideas I just had with you.”
Mario is a creative genius who gets ideas at all hours of the day. I’m used to him calling me during one of his creative bursts, sometimes at three in the morning. I always take these calls from him and have been known to walk away from other important things to do so. One of my skills is to prioritize well, and I’m very aware that Mario’s brilliance is integral to the success of my business, so prioritizing him is key.
“Shoot,” I say.
We spend the next forty minutes going back and forth over his ideas. Mario is in full visionary flow tonight. Electric with the way he moves from one idea to the next. I bake my way through the conversation, my mind and body lit with the energy I’m drawing from him. Natalie joins us. She often does because I’m often with her when he calls in this mood. She helps balance us out. Mario brings the artistic flair; I bring the business smarts; Nat brings the end consumer’s thoughts.
We’re in the middle of a lengthy discussion over one of Mario’s ideas when Jameson strides into the kitchen. He runs his gaze over me, over Nat, over Mario on my phone, over the kitchen island that is now a mess of flour, sugar, cupcakes, and cooking utensils.
Without a word, he finishes his inspection, turns, and exits the kitchen.
Natalie and I barely acknowledge him. We’re too engrossed in our discussion with Mario.
The three of us talk for another ten minutes until Mario declares it’s time for him to get back to work. I know that means he’ll likely stay up all night designing and planning.
“Don’t come in tomorrow if you work all night,” I say.
He gives me the look I often receive when I’m trying to nurture him. It’s half eye roll, half admiration. “Don’t tell me what to do. You know I can’t stay away.”
I grin. I adore my team. “I’ve found a new coffee place. I’ll pick you up a latte on the way to work in the morning.”
“Good. And you’ll keep me supplied all day, right?”
“Done. Now go. And try to get some sleep.”
After I end the call, Nat says, “I’m gonna go too, babe. I need my beauty sleep. Ryan just texted that he wants to have breakfast tomorrow.”
Jameson comes back into the kitchen as she says this. He’s changed into black running shorts and a fitted, black tank.
Um, someone needs to burn these items of clothing.
They’re indecent. Lewd. Improper.
Nat looks at him. “When a man says he wants to have breakfast after only dating for a week or so, that doesn’t mean actual breakfast, does it?”
Natalie has dated more than any woman I know. She doesn’t need Jameson’s help, so I can only put this question down to her having some fun with him.
He glances briefly at me before looking at Nat. “I prefer to be clear with my intentions.”
I concur.
And is it suddenly very hot in here?
Jameson might have many faults, but I don’t doubt a woman always knows where she stands sexually with him.
“Right,” Nat says, grabbing her bag off the table. “I’ll wear breakfast attire, then.” She comes to me with a hug, whispering against my ear, “Have fun living in denial land, sister.”
After she leaves, Jameson moves to the island where I’m about to frost the cupcakes. Eyeing them, he says, “These look good.”
It’s horrifying how much I like him saying that.
But I put it down to that tank he’s wearing that fits far too perfectly, stretching across muscles that shouldn’t be allowed to exist. I also put it down to the fact the tank doesn’t cover arm muscles that should never, ever be on display.
