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I looked behind him at my computer and then met his eyes once more and, ever so softly, nodded.
His smile grew as he turned his back to me, basically ran to my computer and leaned his palms on the desk. “Ready?”
I looked at him, a buzz in my body as I watched him there. Did he remember this is how my application got sent into Harold Martin all those years ago? I had it written and ready to go, and he was my final push to actually apply. Then when I got the job, he cheered and lifted me off the floor, kissed me and told me how proud he was of me.
With that memory clear in my mind, I nodded.
His smile grew, and then his fingers were on the mouse pad. I heard a faint click, and his arms went up in the air.
“Done.”
I laughed, bending over before I ran toward him. He stepped to the side and welcomed my energy by lifting me off the ground. I wrapped my arms around him and laughed. He held onto me, the same feeling I remember from before. Nothing had changed. He was still Clay.My Clay.
I rested my hands on his shoulders, pulling myself up to look at him. His smile was still there, and his eyes were beaming. He was just as happy as I was, all over an email. I bit the inside of my lip and fought the urge to kiss him. I noticed his eyes look quickly at my lips before focusing once again on my eyes.
“You did it. Now we wait for the answer, and when you get the response you deserve,” he said softly, “we’ll celebrate.”
“Celebrate,” I repeated, whispering as my eyes searched his. I cleared my throat, suddenly remembering I was at least a foot off the ground. Clay was over six feet, and I was barely over five. With his arms firmly around my waist, I was basically flying.
“Phe,” he said, a sweet hum escaping his lips. “I’m sorry, for that night. . . at the Piano Bar.”
I swallowed, shaking my head quickly. “Nothing to be sorry about, nothing at all. I may have overreacted, and I’m sorry for pushing you away,” I muttered back, stopping myself before I became even more of an open book.
His eyes kept mine, the brown haze all too familiar. I coughed, looking down to the ground, before muttering, “You can, uh, put me down now.”
Clay grinned again, a sly grin this time, not his full smile. “Yeah.” He gently lowered me to the ground, but kept me in his arms, a place, at the moment, I was happy to stay in.
Maybe he is worth it.
Chapter Nineteen
-Clay-
Isat quietly as Ophelia finished for the day. I was there if she needed a measurement read aloud and when she got a jam in her sewing machine, I was there to hold the lace as she gently pulled it through. I was there when she dropped the most important bead, and we both got on all fours trying to find it. I was there for every smile, for every laugh and nose scrunch she made as she carefully pieced the dress together. And at the end of the day, she gave me a hug.
I could still feel the tingles in my arms from holding her off the ground, not wanting to put her down, but to pull her closer instead, press my lips against hers and tell her every detail about the last ten years without her. That, even though I pretended to be happy, I never was, and now that she was in my life again, I was starting to see the brightness in each day. With her in my arms once more, that same urge came back. Thankfully, before I could word vomit everywhere, Ophelia spoke first.
“Madeline’s coming tomorrow to do her first official fitting. If you promise to keep your phone away, you can join us.” Ophelia smiled, pulling out of my arms. “Just remember. . .”
“I know, I know.” I chuckled, keeping my fingers on her skin just a little longer than I meant to. “Milo can’t know a thing. Madeline won’t mind me being here?”
“I mean, do you have anything better to do?” She raised an eyebrow and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Besides data entry?” she added.
I narrowed my eyes. “I can push my meetings back.” I smiled. “Carter will be here, I'm assuming.”
She flung her head back and groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“You enjoy it.” I smiled, following her out of the studio. She pulled her keys from her bag and grabbed the handle.
“Maybe just a little bit.” With a smile, she closed the door.
I made it back to Milo’s apartment, opening the door and expecting him on the couch, but looking into a dark and empty apartment made me groan. I still wasn't used to being alone here. Even though he was home more since Ophelia was at Madeline’s, he still spent his free time with her. I would say that seven out of ten times I would come home to a dark apartment, waiting for Milo to come keep me company. The other night with Elliot was interesting; it reminded me that maybe being alone wasn’t as fantastic as I thought it was.
I pulled out my phone, thought about texting Milo, but decided against it. Reaching for my laptop instead, I opened my email to see a return from my lawyer, the subject line catching my attention.Possible appeal J&R urgent.
Clayton -
Does the name Brian Walker mean anything to you? It’s come to our attention he may be behind the embezzlement, and if we can prove this, we can appeal your case. Please provide a character reference on Mr. Walker.
