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“’Cause you have a lot on your plate right now?”
My phone chirps with the jewelry contact info from Miles, as if to punctuate Annie’s point. “Okay, can you tell him I’ll be there in five minutes? Ten at most. I need to make this call first.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll get him to start setting up.”
“Thank you.” I afford my new assistant a tired smile. She’s a twenty-five-year-old college graduate and the last one I interviewed. We clicked right away. She, too, grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania with an overbearing parent—though, in her case, it’s her father. She started on Monday and already I don’t know how I’d live without her. “Can I ask your opinion on something?”
She cocks her head. “Sure. Shoot.”
I hold up the four invitation samples. “If you had to choose one of these for your wedding, which would you pick?”
She bites her bottom lip as her green eyes—magnified behind glasses—shift back and forth, scrutinizing them. “Definitely the second one. It’s modern but timeless.”
“That was Raj’s first choice too.”
“I don’t know who Raj is, but he sounds smart.” She grins.
“Definitely. I’ll be out in a minute.” I take a picture of it and text it to Jill.One down. With a sigh, I dial the jeweler.
* * *
It’sdark and well past normal dinner hours by the time Victor pulls up to the lobby doors of Wolf Tower. “Thank you for the ride.” Will I ever get used to having a driver take me anywhere I want to go?
Victor meets my eyes through the rearview mirror. “You’re welcome, Ms. Mitchell. We’ll see you in the morning?”
“Bright and early.” I slip out of the car, offering the doorman a smile before I stroll through the revolving doors and into the lobby. After hours on my feet, all I want is a long, hot bath.
Every single employee greets me as I pass. I wish I knew all their names.
“Ms. Mitchell,” Sullivan calls out, his enormous frame eating up space as he closes in on me. “I was asked to give you this.” He hands me a folded note.
I frown, wariness creeping in. “From whom?”
“Didn’t say. But he’s upstairs in Lux, waiting for you.”
I gingerly unfold the paper.
And a thrill runs through me.
* * *
Ronan engulfsme in his broad arms, pulling me against his chest in a hug.
I inhale the familiar mixture of sandalwood and Marlboro cigarettes that every single one of his shirts smells of. “What are you doing here!” We texted this morning and he asked what I had going on tonight, but he always does that. “You never said you were coming to New York!”
“Thought I’d surprise you.” His deep, raspy voice warms my ears, bringing me back to countless nights under Alaska’s starry sky, laughing at his and Connor’s antics. As happy as I am, occasionally I catch myself reminiscing about a moment here or there and feeling an ache for a special time of my life, gone.
“I am floored, so you win.” With one last squeeze, I pull away and look up into those haunting green eyes of his. “You look good.” Casual, as always, in blue jeans and a plain charcoal shirt—long-sleeved, on account of the cooler weather, and clinging to his lean, sculpted body. His dark hair is buzzed as short as I remember it being. “I was going to call you this weekend.”
“Sure you were,” he teases.
“I was!” I give his biceps a playful smack. “Time just kind of got away from me.”
“Where’s Wolf?”
“Barcelona. I told you that, didn’t I?”
“Oh right, I forgot.”
