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.”
“Fuck,” I utter under my breath through gritted teeth, keeping my eyes down and making sure I’m still completely covered. The last thing I need is this grade-A asshole to get a look at what’s underneath my trench coat. Out of my peripheral vision, I see him move to the opposite side of the elevator, keeping his full attention on me.
“Is it raining outside?” he asks, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can tell he’s wearing that eerie smile that makes my skin crawl. “Because when I arrived here, it was sunny and close to seventy-five degrees out. You must be burning up in that, baby.”
Baby. God, this creeper makes me nauseous.