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Edward, the maître d’ from Reece’s, the place where we had or first official date, accompanied by a waiter handling a trolley-laden with food, approaches us, a warm smile on his face. “Enjoying the night?”
“Yes, thank you," Maverick says.
I smile at Edward. “I also enjoyed the appetizers, too."
“I’ll relay your message to Chef Vief. Do you care for the main course now?”
With an indulgent smile, Maverick asks, "So, what do you have for us?”
Without a word, the waiter starts to arrange the meal. My eyes widen when he's done. Everything looks fabulous. The chef has excelled himself as usual. The lobster bisque smells exquisite, the roast lamb looks mouthwateringly succulent on its bed of greens.
"Just the way the lady likes it.” Edward beams a smile at me.
I giggle happily. “Oh, I just can’t wait to taste it all already.”
"Bon appetite," Edward says and leaves with the waiter.
Maverick and I dig into our meals, eating with mutual gusto.
A notification pings from my phone. I flash an apologetic smile at Maverick. “Sorry, excuse me.”
Opening the text message, I grin at the content.
“What?”
“Abbie's back in town!”
“Really?”
"Mm-hmm." I set down my phone. “I wasn’t expecting her back until May. You should see her Instagram. It's completely filled with pictures of Tennessee. She's so obsessed."
"She's happy. She deserves to flaunt it."
"I know." I pout, fingering the stem of my champagne flute. "I really missed her."
Maverick's brows go up. "You had me to keep you company."
"Yeah, on days you're not swamped with work."
He grins. "But look how it paid off."
He's right. In less than three months, the finances of MediaHire had skyrocketed. Everyone put all hands on deck to make that happen. It's a thing of pride for Maverick to brag about— giving the agency a big boom without the help of external forces. It's truly remarkable.
My salary has also experienced a huge projection, giving me more than enough. I bought a car, and thanks to Maverick's recommendation, it's the perfect model. I quickly moved out of the apartment, putting it up for rent. My crappy landlord was delighted to see me go. I really don't care. I never did like him anyway.
Plus, Maverick's the perfect roommate.
I’ve gotten to know a lot about him in the last six months.
And I've found out that he can be charming and funny, and randomly, unexpectedly humble. He's fascinating to me… masculine, scary, intimidating, sweet, hot, and mysterious.
Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s so attractive, but I’ve always needed more than looks to turn my head.
I'm sure that I’m the luckiest person in the world to be loved by someone like him, a man of rare talent and exceptional character. I’m head-over-heels in love with him and there’s no point in pretending otherwise. It’s always on the tip of my tongue to say it all the time, and to shout at the top of my voice to the whole world.
I'm happy, more than happy, because I already know that he feels the same way. It’s in the way he touches me, and kisses me, the way he’s so magnanimous and generous with me, and the way he talks to me,
And it’s in the hopeful edge in his voice when he asks if I’ve ever thought about marriage, and children.
