“I just mean it’s complicated. Really complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it?” Gram asked. “You love her and she–”
“Love doesn’t exist, Gram. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”
“Yes, and I’ve come to terms that my grandson is a genius in all but that category. When it comes to love, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“Gee, thanks so much for that.” I ran my hand through my hair, instantly regretting the action because I’d used hair gel.
She sighed. “With the examples you were given, I’m not surprised that’s your opinion.”
“Well, yeah, obviously with Mom and Dad–”
“But,” she said, clearly annoyed I’d spoken while she was on some sort of soapbox. “Your opinion on that matter, my dear, is absolute horse shit.”
Normally, I’d humor her, but her comment irked me more than it should’ve.
“Gram, I appreciate the crappy pep talk, but you’re wrong and I need to leave or I’ll be late picking Anica up.”
“You show up on time for her, Cal. That’s got to stand for something.”
“I love you, Gram.”
After hanging up with her, I finished getting ready. Erika’s final approval ensured I looked presentable by the time I headed to my car.
By the time I pulled up in front of Anica’s building, my palms were sweating. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cared this much about impressing someone. Maybe never.
I texted to let her know I was there, then waited outside my car, using the windows to check my reflection in the rearview mirror one last time. Hair? Perfect. Tie? Straight. Expression? Only mildly terrified, with a hint of “might vomit if rejected” around the edges.
I was just considering whether I should go up to her apartment or wait by the car when the building’s front door opened, and there she was.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
The witty compliment I’d prepared died on my lips as I took in the vision gliding towards me. Anica wore a midnight blue gown that shimmered with every movement, clinging to her curves before flowing gracefully to the ground. The neckline dipped just low enough to be enticing without being obvious, and her hair was swept up in an elegant style that exposed the slender column of her neck. She looked like she’d stepped out of a dream I didn’t even know I was having.
I scrambled away from the car, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste to reach her.
“Hi,” I said brilliantly, my extensive vocabulary apparently reduced to monosyllables by the sight of her.
“Hi yourself,” she replied, a small smile playing at her lips. God, I’d kissed those perfect lips. I wanted to do it again. Shit, they were moving. “You clean up nicely.”
“You... I mean... that dress is...” I gestured helplessly, words failing me entirely. My brain, which had negotiated billion-dollar deals and revolutionized tech industries, was suddenly operating with the processing power of a calculator from 1982.
“Use your words, Burkhardt,” she teased, but a faint blush colored her cheeks. “For a man who talks as much as you do, you’re surprisingly quiet right now.”
“You look incredible,” I finally managed. “Absolutely stunning. I’m seriously reconsidering my atheism because you’re making a compelling case for the existence of divine beings. Either that, or I’ve had a stroke and this is a very specific hallucination.”
Her blush deepened. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”
“Pretty good? I’m wounded. I spent at least forty-five minutes on my hair alone. A small forest died for the products required to achieve this level of casual perfection.”
“In that case, you look devastatingly handsome,” she amended. “Does that soothe your fragile ego?”
“Immensely,” I grinned, opening the passenger door for her. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
“A Bugatti is hardly a chariot. More like a very expensive missile with leather seats,” she observed, sliding gracefully into the seat.
“A missile with excellent handling and zero to sixty in 2.4 seconds,” I corrected, closing her door before rounding the car to the driver’s side. “I thought about bringing the helicopter, but city ordinances frown on landing in residential areas. Something about noise complaints and ‘severe safety hazards.’ Bureaucracy at its finest.”
