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I let out a weak, “Agree to disagree,” that comes out more like a squeak, and flee the premises.
“You can’t run away forever…” His words chase me down the hall.
And the most terrifying part? I’m afraid he’s right.
19
GABRIEL
The days after my call to Thomas, and Blake’s surprise visit are the longest of my life. It’s like I’ve been thrown into the middle of a mental tennis match.
I want to text her. I want to call her. Hear her voice, see her face—see her eyes. I’d even settle for another ballet class if it meant I could flirt with her afterward. But I especially can’t get out of my head the way she was looking at me in the office gym.
The air between us was crackling with electricity. Blake was staring at me with such intensity I wasn’t sure if she was about to whack me over the head with a dumbbell and put an end to my suffering or if she wanted to lay me down on the bench and kiss me to my deathbed.
Given a choice, I would’ve much preferred the latter way to kick the bucket.
But I know it’s best if I keep my distance and give her time to miss my witty texts and pretty face.
Thomas finally calls me back one late afternoon when my mood is as stormy as the dark clouds outside my windows.
The moment I pick up, my brother hollers into the phone, “Bingo, my man! I’ve got you two golden tickets to the Chocolate Factory.”
“Westwood came through?” I ask, still not sure I can believe him.
“Yes, sir,” Thomas continues, exploding with energy. “I made the impossible happen. Now, as for your payment—”
“I thought we agreed there’d be no quid pro quo.”
“There isn’t. I just want to hear you tell me I’m awesome.”
Between gritted teeth, I say, “You’re awesome.”
“Ah.” Thomas gives a contented sigh. “Just so you know, I was recording you, and now I’m going to personalize your ringtone with the audio.”
“Whatever.”
“Also, saying thank you wouldn’t hurt.”
“Thank you. Anything else on your wish list? Should I send a basket of muffins?”
“I prefer cupcakes. Chocolate chip cookie dough, strawberry shortcake, and sweet vanilla are my go-to flavors. Mila knows my favorite shop uptown.”
“How does she know?”
“Because she’s an extremely smart, attentive, detail-oriented—”
“Stop trying to poach my assistant. She’s not coming to work for you.”
“I don’t know how you can stand his grumpy ass day in, day out, Millicent.”
Mila, who also listens in to all my phone calls, drops into the conversation. “He pays me very well for my trouble.”
“I’ll double whatever he’s giving you,” Thomas offers.
“Sorry,” Mila replies. “I’m also loyal.”
“You break my heart, Millicent,” Thomas says, sounding disgruntled. “Every, single, time.”
