If I had to guess, she wore ripped jeans and faded Aerosmith shirts to most of her other gigs. Honestly, I don’t care what she wears to work. She works in the recording side of things. Style issupposed to be more on trend and less about name brands and buttoned shirts on that side of the room.
But for dinners? Meetings? Dates with me that I know will be heavily watched by paparazzi? She’s going to need a wardrobe update.
For one, I don’t think my dick can handle one more appearance of that dress.
When I get to my apartment, a penthouse on the top floor of a complex just down the street from Hardin, I pour a glass of brandy and stand by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. Charlotte is beautiful, all trees and lights and architecture. Most record companies hail from places like LA, New York, Nashville. But my dad was Ashville, NC born and raised and didn’t want to leave home.
I get that now.
Though I wouldn’t hate having a place where my job wasn’t right out the window.
I turn my back to it and take another sip. I pull my phone out, checking the notifications, and I find myself wondering what Amanda is doing. I wonder what the inside of her apartment is like. It’s not the most high-end neighborhood in Southend but it’s not slummy either.
I wonder if she has pets, if her walls are lined with bookshelves full of records. Does she have recording equipment in her living room? What does she do when she walks in the door? Does she kick off her shoes and slip into something more comfy? Does she curl up on the couch watching movies?
I want to know it all.
And honestly, I don’t think it’s entirely out of the question.
After all, we are married.
And we aren’t getting divorced any time soon.
Especially now.
Avery is right about one thing. Our dad’s eyes are a bit veiled, but Avery knows I am up to something. Not that it scares me. He can’t scare me.
But I do have to up the game.
Things need to be more convincing. More public appearances. More flirting. More touching. Maybe some kissing.
God, I wanted to kiss her tonight.
But I knew I shouldn’t.
Not by her apartment door anyways.
My mind races with scenarios in which I could…when we get to work? On a lunch break together? In the copy room against the machine…
I finally give in and pull my phone out, sending her a text.
Callum: I think we did well tonight.
She answers more quickly than I expect.
Amanda: I think so too. I like Noah. He’s funny. And Cass is really great.
Callum: You were really great…
I wait, wondering if that was too much. Too far. Honestly? I don’t give a fuck. The ellipses pop up and disappear then pop up again. She’s texting and erasing, and I’d give a million dollars to know what she said and decided against.
Amanda: Just doing my job.
I frown at that. If I had to guess, the erased texts were much different.
Callum: I do think we need to work on our public relationship though.
Amanda: How so?
