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“We’re going to be late.”
“And whose fault is that?” Amber’s voice floats out of the bathroom.
I grin at my reflection in the mirror. “Definitely yours.”
She pokes her head out from behind the door and glares at me. “That’s not how I remember it.” Her towel is still wrapped around her body and the scent of her perfume wafts out of the newly opened door.
“I can come back in there and refresh your memory if you’d like?”
Temptation flashes in her eyes. “How late are we?”
I glance at the watch on my wrist. “Right now? Already twenty minutes.”
She groans and disappears back into the bathroom, pulling the door shut firmly behind her. I laugh, turning my attention back to the mirror so I can finishing tying this tie. Once I’m done, I navigate through the maze of cardboard boxes and suitcases strewn across the floor and flop down onto Amber’s bed.
“Want me to get started packing some of this stuff away?” I call. There are two piles of thick, coffee-table type books on the floor. “The books? Are they all coming with you?”
“Just the left pile,” she shouts back. “I’m donating the right pile.”
I nod to myself and slip off the bed. We’ve spent the last week going through her house sorting things into piles, deciding what she’s giving away or throwing out, and what’s coming with her to New York.
I can’t stop the silly grin that splits my face as it hits me again: Amber is moving to New York with me.
These last two years have flown by in a blur thanks to the steady routine we developed. I’ve been flying to London once every six weeks, staying for two weeks, and then flying back home. Once a quarter Amber will fly over to the States to stay for two weeks too. It’s been tricky working out the logistics of it — having to plan around Amber’s increasingly busy work schedule now that AW Interiorshas taken off — but we’ve made it work.
Things have been helped by the fact I no longer work for The August Room or my uncle anymore. After the mini showdown at my parents’ anniversary party, I knew that there was nothing left for me in that company, and that Amber had been right all along. I needed to branch out and do something for myself. Something not attached to my last name.
And that’s what I did. Sort of.
It very quickly became apparent that escaping the Hawthorne name was easier said than done, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing. Thanks to my decade at The August Roomandmy last name, I had a contact book full of names of people in high places, and I realised I could do some good with that. So I started up a mentorship scheme for recent graduates from underrepresented backgrounds in the corporate world; kids without a contact book full of connections but who are as equally talented and deserving of getting a foot in the door.
The scheme has done really well, and we’ve helped secure over 100 graduates an entry level job at a company that otherwise would’ve been inaccessible to them.
It took me a while, but I think I’ve finally found my passion. At least when it comes to work.
My first passion comes striding out of the bathroom, and I idly wonder if I’ll ever get tired of the sight of her. It’s doubtful. She’s wearing a fitted green dress, but she could be wearing nothing at all and she’d still take my breath away.
Her move to New York has been a long time coming. We’ve been planning it for the last year and have managed to time it with a new contract she’s secured from a high-end restaurant chain in the city to design their new location.
She’s also been slowly working on the house I bought us on the lake, and it’s finally finished and ready for us to move into.Together.
The thought makes my heart leap in the best possible way.
I abandon the pile of books and make my way to her. She’s standing in front of the mirror, slipping a pair of gold earrings on, and she lets me slip my arms around her waist without any protest.
“We’re going to be late,” she reminds me as I lean in and press a kiss to her exposed neck.
“We’re already late.”
“Bailey’s going to get annoyed.”
I trail my hands along her sides, over her thighs, and give her ass a squeeze. “She’ll understand.”
Amber laughs and swats me away. “Not today she won’t. Come on—” She backs herself into me, deliberately grinding her ass against my rapidly growing erection. “We’ll have plenty of time for this later.”
I bite back a groan and hold her hips in place. “We have time now.”
She snorts and slips out from beneath me before I can do something stupid like tear her pretty new dress off and throw her onto the bed. “We absolutely do not.” I think she must feel at least a little bit sorry for me, because she leans in and presses a quick kiss against my lips. “But we’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of us. I think you can wait one night.”
