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“Good morning, Lily.”
I smile and turn around. “Oh good. You’re up.”
He laughs. “Once more with feeling.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not good at the morning after part.”
“Me either.”
“I’m going to take an Uber home.”
“I can drop you off.”
But I shake my head. “Fewer questions this way. But thanks for the offer. And for last night.”
“I’m the one who should thank you. Good luck out there, Lily.”
“Yeah, you too, Cormac.” I flee the scene with my shoes in my hand, smiling and walking a little crooked.
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2
Cormac
Why am I craving raspberries?
It’s an odd question for a Monday morning, but it clouds my thoughts while I look over the vendor proposals on my laptop. Flicking through one after the other is not enough to distract me from the craving. I have been looking at the proposals for too long and my eyes are tired, which has to be why I keep thinking of distractions. There’s no other explanation—
Lily. Her hair smells like raspberries.
My head tips back against my Italian leather office chair, sinking into the cushion. My office is nice enough that I should be able to focus on the task at hand. Solid mahogany desk—oversized, just the way I like it. The shelves host hundreds of books, law and otherwise. Seabirds squawk outside the window, while the dance in the breeze.
I should not be thinking about raspberries. There is too much to do.
But I can’t help myself. Friday had been a rare night for me. I wasn’t about to tell her I’d never had a one-night stand. When she offered it, I nearly choked on my margarita. Sure, I’d had hook-ups before. But there was always the promise of possibilities in the air. Never had I experienced a no-last-name, no-detail situation. And I had never been with a woman like Lily.
She was so uninhibited. So wild. Since there was no fear of judgment, I just did what I wanted to do. For once, in my proper, stiff life, I let all of that go and had fun without thoughts of consequences. That night was the freest I had ever felt, and I had Lily to thank for it. I want to thank her. Repeatedly until neither of us can walk straight.
I shake my head at the thought and get back to it, but I can’t stare at another proposal. Switching gears to donation requests for the MacMillan Foundation, I settle in for the ride. We support a lot of charities, but not all. We cannot afford to let our brand by tarnished by connecting with the wrong charity, so I must be selective.
Maybe I should have been more selective on Friday night. I’ve never had a woman refuse to give me her full name or her phone number.
Not that names or numbers are a guarantee of anything. Details like those hadn’t done anything to maintain my marriage. Not that I hold that against my ex-wife. Abigail is great, but after a few years, we realized we were better co-parents than spouses, and neither one of us was interested in dragging our marriage out past that realization.
She deserves better than that, and so do I. Lucky for her, she found a new man right after our divorce, and Olivier is a great step-dad and husband. I wish them nothing but the best.
Also, sometimes I am so jealous of them that my teeth hurt.
I sigh. It would be nice to have someone to come home to. Someone warm and sweet. Maybe with a degree or two. I like smart women. Another lawyer would be good—
I laugh at myself.That’s Abigail. You’re thinking of her again.
Not that I want her back. Abigail was the woman who, by every measure, should have been perfect for me. Unfortunately, things fizzled outbecauseof our similarities. There were no surprises. No spark. Everything was routine. Expected. Dull.
Maybe I need the opposite of Abigail. Lily is most certainly the opposite—
Hang on. You don’t know anything about her.
