Victoria’s gaze flicked to Teresa’s closed bedroom door then back to my bedroom door where Hannah had just disappeared, then back to me, one eyebrow raised. I felt heat crawl up my neck.
Victoria settled back onto the couch with an air of studied casualness. "I thought you didn't do sleepovers."
I opened my mouth to deflect, to explain that it was different when you part-time lived together… but what came out was: “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Victoria said, watching me with a soft expression, almost wistful. “What’s her story?”
I could gloss over the messy details. After all, Hannah had asked me not to tell anybody about why she left New York, and I’d agreed. I’d promised.
It’s not my story to tell, I’d told her.
But the gleam in Victoria’s eye told me that she was curious in more than gossip. I hadn’t been this serious about a woman before, and Victoria was vetting her, searching for something deeper.
So I dropped my voice and stuck to the facts. “She used to be a senior account manager at Callihan & Murphy.” Victoria’s brow rose in recognition. “But she left suddenly last April.” A quick inhale, and I justified the information sharing in my mind that all of that was on her LinkedIn profile and resume. “I don’t have all the details, but she’s been having trouble getting interviews at accounting firms. Might be worth looking into.”
Victoria nodded as the bedroom door opened again, and Hannah emerged wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She’d tried to make herself presentable, but she still looked pale and shaky.
She tried to slip past us toward the kitchen. “I’ll just make some coffee—”
“Already handled.” Victoria lifted the third cup from the tray, extending it toward Hannah. “I saw you two doing shots with Alex, figured you’d be wrecked after last night.”
Hannah froze, her eyes widening slightly as she took the offered coffee. “You knew I…”
Victoria’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Connor’s never ignored my calls for twelve hours straight before.”
“Thank you. For the coffee.”
Hannah glanced at me, then perched on the arm of the couch. I was hyperaware of the way Hannah’s knee bumped against my shoulder. When I glanced at Victoria, I found her watching us.
“Actually, I was just leaving." She stood, smoothed her pants, and moved towards the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. “Connor, I don’t need you back until after New Year’s, if you want to stay.”
The room tilted slightly. “That’s… three weeks.”
My throat felt tight—from emotion or nausea, I couldn’t tell. The tequila, the anxiety, the sudden sharp relief of more time all twisting together in my gut.
“I know.” She smiled faintly, looking vaguely around my apartment. “I didn’t realize how much you had to leave behind in July. Take time to pack, get your affairs in order.” Her gaze flicked to Hannah, then back to me, loaded with meaning. “Take care of unfinished business.”
My throat felt tight. “Are you sure you can spare me that long?”
“My dad hasn't retired yet. And the CFO search…” She shook her head. “That’s going to take time regardless. Stay. Pack. Help Alex. Figure out what to bring back to New York with you.”
She opened the door, then paused one more time. “But I have one condition.”
“Yeah?” I would do anything she asked to stay. Hell, I already did anything she asked, but I’d do it double, whether she asked me or not.
She ran her hand over her face to hide her wry smile. “If you stay, you have to help Alex with all his Santa visit logistics. Consider it penance for making me face the office without you.”
I managed a weak laugh that made my head throb. “Deal.”
Hannah
Thedoorclickedshutbehind Victoria, and suddenly the apartment felt too small. Or maybe that was just my head, still pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Three weeks. Victoria had given him three weeks to pack his things.
And then he'dleave. Back to his real life being Victoria Blackstone’s right-hand man. So important that when he didn't respond for twelve hours—when he wasn't at her beck and call—she showed up at his home.
He would pack his bed and his couch, and I’d be here, but sleeping on an air mattress in his former room, applying for jobs I’d never get, pouring drinks at Donnelly’s, living the small-town life he’d left behind.
