Like I wasn’t turned around and off-kilter enough from yesterday, he has to come in here and knock me sideways even harder.
But maybe he’s not trying to knock me sideways. Maybe this is the emotional equivalent of those first steps on land when you still have your sea legs. I’m not used to standing still beside Christopher, quiet and peace wrapped around us as we search each other’s eyes. I’m used to sky-high swells and raging storms. Of course this would feel weird. And different.
And, frighteningly, pretty . . . wonderful.
If I can trust it. If he means what he says. If he really does want us to, as he says, “get along.” Praying I hide it well—the thrill of curiosity, the tiniest, most tentative hope, humming through my body, I offer him my hand. “Deal.”
Christopher stares at me warily, his gaze dancing over my face. “Deal? That simple?”
The threat of a smile tugs at my mouth. I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what to make of this new dynamic, then. “I do have a few stipulations. We do it when it suits me, scheduled around my commitments here, but yes. Those are my terms. If you accept, then it’s a deal.”
Gently, he takes my hand. His thumb sweeps across my skin as he holds my eyes. “Then it’s a deal.” A bright, satisfied smile warms his face. “Pleasure doing business with you, Wilmot.”
I wage a battle inside myself to hold my calm expression, not to sigh at the warmth of his hand wrapped around mine. It’s a small concession to strike a deal. It would be too grand a surrender to reveal this little bit of business we’re doing actually feels like pure pleasure.
“Likewise, Petruchio.”
? SIXTEEN ?
Christopher
“So.” Jamie clears his throat before sipping his green tea. “How are . . . things?”
“?‘Things’ are fantastic.” Looking both ways, we stroll into the crosswalk, shoulders up against the biting December wind. “Kate walloped me with the flowers I sent the other day and nearly got herself run over by rushing into traffic just to get away from me.”
And you kissed her, that stern voice in my head reminds me. You can’t stop thinking about that kiss. You’ve had decadently filthy dreams replaying that kiss, taking things much, much further.
I don’t tell Jamie that.
“Then, when I pivoted and tried another tactic—extending an olive branch, asking if I could hire her to take new professional headshots at the firm—she just . . . agreed.”
He frowns in thought, sipping his tea again. “And that’s bad? Her agreeing?”
“It’s suspicious.” I take a long swig of my coffee, turning over my memory of the moment, that unreadable glint in her eyes as she peered up at me. “It was too easy.”
“Or maybe it’s just that simple.”
“Nothing’s ever simple with Kate,” I mutter.
Jamie frowns my way, examining me. “She accepted your offer to take photos for the firm, which you’re suspicious of, but that’s because she acted differently than she normally would, and that’s what you want from her, too, for things to be different—”
“To be better,” I remind him.
“Well, it takes time for things to get better. Different can be a good first step on that path.” He gets one look at my incredulous expression and sighs. “All I’m saying is, Bea told me—and from what I’ve witnessed the past few days when I’m around her, I agree—Kate’s seemed happy. That’s a good sign, I think.”
My heart kicks against my ribs. “She’s seemed happy?”
Jamie nods, a grin lifting his mouth. “She has. And that means Bea’s been happy, too.”
Which means Jamie’s happy, a fact that’s obvious by the satisfied smile he wore when we met up, the kind of smile a man wears when his needs are being enthusiastically and frequently met. I’m well acquainted with that relieved, clearheaded look.
Not that I’ve seen it in my reflection the past three weeks.
God, if I could just get past this . . . block I have against my usual routine, if I could stop replaying every moment my mouth was on Kate’s, my hands gripping her, tugging her close—
I shake my head and draw in a deep breath, pushing away the memories. I’m taking a page out of Kate’s avoidant book.
I’m grateful that she’s ignoring those kisses, pretending they didn’t happen; that she acted as annoyed as always to see me when I walked into the store yesterday, with those little carnivorous fish on her shirt and a feisty glint in her eyes, and asked me to stop bringing up the incident in which I mauled her mouth outside her apartment and told her anyone would want her.
I’m glad about that. I am.
“Christopher?”
I blink, pulled from my thoughts, and force myself to meet Jamie’s eyes. “Sorry. My mind wandered.”
His mouth quirks at the corner. “Hmm.”
“Don’t you and your ‘hmm-ing’ have a job to go to?”
His smile deepens. “They do. I was saying, if you’re feeling unsure about how things are progressing with Kate, why don’t we put together a friend-group activity? Something fun and bonding.”
I grimace. “I don’t know. So far group settings have been a disaster with me and Kate.”
“Give it one more try,” he says. “I’ll handle it, all right? You’ve got enough on your plate. Fun activities aren’t my wheelhouse, but I’m good at outsourcing. I’ll have help.”
“Oh, Lord no. You’re going to fold in the whole friend group, and you have no idea the meddling mayhem those fools can cause.”
Jamie tips his head. “Why, Christopher, it’s almost like you’re aware there’s some precedent in this group for meddlesome chaos.”
I point a finger at him. “That . . . was different. You and Bea were different.”
“How? I mean, I’m not displeased with the results, but the means, my friend, they were dicey.”
“You two had a spark. As an expert on flirtatious chemistry, I am qualified to make these judgments, and the spark was there. You just got off to a terrible start. You needed a little nudge to give each other a chance.”
“?‘A little nudge to give each other a chance,’ you say?” Taking a step backward in the direction he’ll head for his practice, Jamie grins. “Hmm. Sounds like it just might be time to take a page out of your own book.”
I scowl at him. “I liked you, Jamie. We had a true bromance, a good thing going. And now you gotta throw my own behavior in my face.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you. Just a fun, bonding group outing, something that might move you and Kate a little farther along the path to peace.”
“Have you met that woman? Peace is about as familiar a concept to her as a savings account.”
“Give me some credit.” Jamie takes another step back into the flow of morning commuter foot traffic. “I’ll make sure it’s in your interest to play nice, for both of you to. You’ll be right there with her, on the same side.”
I narrow my eyes. Kate and me? Side by side?
Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.
? SEVENTEEN ?
Kate
Christopher’s office is different than I expected. No massive, chilly, corporate skyscraper with a bird’s-eye view, pedestrians turned to insignificant specks on the ground.
From three floors up, people are still people, yet somehow more vulnerable from this perspective—a sea of ducked-down heads and hunched shoulders against the cold, shrunk to miniature size, delicate and numerous. I wonder if this is intentional. If Christopher meant for his employees to see and be reminded that there are people out there, on the other side of every choice we make.
I turn away from the tall, nearly floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city block, taking in the view from his desk.
Office doors here are open, so energetic voices carry down the halls that lead to Christopher’s office. Luscious green-leaf plants and plush, dense carpet soften the hard edges of the space’s mid-century furniture and severe, geometric layout.