“I’m not sure I trust you after you so royally fucked up Thanksgiving.”
“I know. Again, I’m sorry.”
There was a beat of silence. “If you keep going the way you are now, we’ll see.”
“I understand. I’m glad Cait’s better. I’ll call her tomorrow night.”
“Okay. Night, Cole.”
When I hung up, I set an alarm on my phone for 8:00 the next night. We’d all see if I could pass the test I’d set for myself. Because if I passed, I might be good enough for Bridget too.
When Bridget took off her glasses, I looked up. This was the moment I’d been waiting for all day, through nine meetings and a working lunch. She set her hands on the seat of her chair, lifted her chin, and arched her back before she stood. When her silky blouse strained across her chest, I felt a tingle in my groin. Whoever came up with the idea of our sharing an office was an evil genius.
She closed her laptop and unplugged it. “I’m calling it a day.”
I was across the room before she’d finished speaking. Standing what I hoped was a respectful distance from her desk, I asked, “Can we talk for a few minutes?”
She glanced at her phone. “I can be late.”
I winced. Making her late for wherever she was going wasn’t ideal. “Are you sure?”
She gave me a weak smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“It isn’t work. It’s personal. Would you rather talk here or somewhere else?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “We can talk here.” She walked to the door and shut it. “What’s up?”
She wore a floral blouse in pinks and reds over a slim charcoal skirt with matching red heels. She looked beautiful despite the creases under her eyes. We’d both put in a lot of hours on this call center deal. I wondered if she was going to a holiday celebration after work. Or a date. Acid bubbled in my stomach.
“Cole?” she asked.
I closed the distance between us, not enough to touch her but near enough that she could see the rawness in my expression. “Can we try again?”
She squared her jaw. “Try what again?”
“Try us. Like in Costa Rica.”
She glanced at the door behind her and leaped away from it as if it’d burned her. She pointed to our seating area a dozen feet away and sat in her usual chair. I followed, sat in the other chair, and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees to catch the words she muttered in a low voice.
“Why now?”
“Because I…” I cleared the lump of self-preservation from my throat. “I miss you. I miss us.”
She stared at me, searching, like I was a candidate for an internship and she was trying to figure out if I was the hardworking kind or the lazy kind who’d be more trouble than he was worth.
“I care about you,” I said. “As a person. As a woman. We’re fantastic co-CEOs. And we were incendiary as lovers. We could be so good together.” I held out my hands, palms up, hoping she’d rest her hands in mine. “Please think about it?”
Every instinct cried out against letting her think about it. My lizard brain wanted to take her in my arms and kiss the faded stain off her lips, remind her of what we had on the retreat. But I held firm.
“You pushed me away on Friday.” She leaned back in the chair. “Where is this coming from?”
“Friday, you said you wanted someone who rescues puppies and children. That’s not me. I am who I am, Bridget. Flawed. Selfish sometimes. And I’ll always work too much.”
“That makes two of us.” The shadow of a smile teased at her lips. She glanced at my extended hands, and her eyes widened. “You’re wearing the bracelet.”
The bracelet Cait made me poked out from under my sleeve. “Yeah. She likes it when I do.” I straightened it so the wordDADwas centered on my wrist. “And so do I. Letting you walk away was a mistake. I want to fight for you. For us.”
“How will it work?” she asked. “What will the board say?”
