“I didn’t see him. Ian met with him. I had some other stuff I was trying to take care of.”
“What other stuff?” He gives me the same look he gave me on the couch when he wouldn’t elaborate on why this account was so important. Before I took his vague trust me reasoning without question. Now I can’t hide the slight irritation bubbling inside me. Why is this such a secret? Is it really that crucial I not find out about anything?
I shake off these questions, grabbing his face and planting a kiss to his lips. “I should go before Joey and Brooke kill each other.”
I stand and round his desk, grabbing my coat and slipping it on. I push the questions filling my head about this account aside, not needing any additional stress. And I do trust Reese. I know he’ll tell me when he can, so I’m not going to worry about this.
As I’m securing the belt around my waist, his arms wrap around me and pull me back against his chest. He roughly exhales into my hair before pressing his lips to the shell of my ear. “Three days,” he whispers before kissing down my neck as he slips my phone into my pocket.
“Mmm. You keep doing that and I’m never going to leave here.”
“Don’t give me any ideas.” His arms release their hold on me, allowing me to walk toward the door. I grab the handle, glancing once more over my shoulder and seeing him perched on his desk. Hands gripping the edge. Feet crossed in front of him. Cocky, sexy-as-fuck smile growing on his face. It’s the same position he was in all those months ago when I came storming into this very office to confront him on being married. I slapped the shit out of him, found out he wasn’t married, and then proceeded to blow him behind the very desk I was just fucked against.
So many memories in this office. Mostly sex-filled, but I’m not complaining.
“I’m glad you weren’t married,” I say, seeing the confusion wash over him momentarily before he realizes the meaning of my words. He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to because the look he’s giving me right now is speaking for him. It’s the look I always find him giving me when I catch him watching me. Like he’s just now seeing me for the first time. It’s a look I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to, because it still has the same effect on me as the first time I saw it at Justin’s wedding. When I stood up from his lap and spun around, getting my first real look at the man who would completely change my life. My bones seem to vibrate while my heart beat fills my ears. I would do anything for this look. For this man. And it takes every ounce of effort I can muster to leave this room. But I manage, giving him a wink and seeing my favorite smile lines appear next to his eyes before I close the door behind me.
I pull myself together enough to give Dave a wave and a smile, getting a very enthusiastic one in return.
“Can’t wait for Saturday,” he excitedly declares, holding up the wedding invitation he’s kept on his desk since I delivered it to him months ago.
“Me either,” I reply with a smile that literally makes my cheeks ache. But it’s hard to not react that way when someone mentions Saturday.
I step into the empty elevator, hitting the lobby button before I lean back against the wall. Glancing down at my left hand, I study my engagement ring, which I find myself doing a lot lately. I never take it off: not before bed, not while I bake, never. I think it’s common for girls to imagine what their ideal engagement ring would look like. To have a specific diamond cut in mind or at least know whether they want platinum or gold. But I never thought about it. I never once had a preference until Reese slipped this ring on my finger in the middle of my bakery kitchen. This elegant, princess-cut diamond is the ring I was always meant to wear. It’s the ring I would’ve picked out myself, but the fact that Reese designed this specifically for me is the main reason I adore it. I can picture him sitting down with the jeweler, having an exact idea in mind and not settling for anything less. I can also imagine how messy his hair looked during that design process.
The elevator stops a few floors down and even though I’m already leaning against the wall and giving plenty of room to whoever is about to enter, I move closer to the corner anyway. As the doors slide open, I’m too busy admiring my ring to register who steps on. But I sense it. I feel the tightness forming in my gut and slowly lift my eyes and lock on to the reasoning behind it.
“Well, isn’t this a sweet surprise.”