“But?”
“But you’re with Deacon now…”
“Right now, I’m withyou. I need to know where I stand withyou.”
“Are you telling me I’ve got dibs? Like if I say I want to date you, you’ll stop dating Deacon? Because that kind of sucks, Isaac.”
He has a point, and I’m not prepared to answer that question, but that kiss was fucking incredible, so I know there’s something here. “We’re all grown men, are we not?”
He narrows his eyes.
“I just mean we’re all capable of making decisions on how involved we want to be. Do I want to stop seeing Deacon? No. Do I want a chance with you? Yes. Fuck.Yes. Do I think you should explore your feelings for Deacon? If he’s open to it—go for it.”
“Have you lost your mind? Did you not have your coffee this morning?”
“What part of that was irrational? It’s just like me, isn’t it? As long as I get what I want, I’m good.”
He snorts.
“You should try it,” I tell him.
“So would I get weekdays and he gets weekends? Every other day?”
“Back up,” I say. “Are you saying you’ll date me?”
“No.” He takes his hands off me, a step away, and shakes his head. “No, no, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t know what I’m saying. Where thefuckdid that kiss come from?”
My heart, I want to say but don’t. “If you want me to back off, you just have to say the word.”
He looks at me, and I want to believe it’s pain I see on his face, but he could just be pissed. “You need me to decide this right now?” he asks.
“No. But I only have two things to offer you—more or less.”
He forces his hands through his hair and groans. “How the fuck are we supposed to work together now?”
“Same way we always have,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “If you don’t want to mess around anymore—fine. I won’t pressure you, not that I ever think I particularly have?—”
“HR might see that differently.”
“Power dynamics aside?—”
“You can’t push that aside. It’s too late. What if I piss you off one day, and I can’t make it up to you by sucking you off? And what if you decide not to spend time going through a client file with me, and I take that shit personally? I think you need to assign me to someone else. Or put me on a team.”
The thought of that is like a knife to the chest. “I don’t think I can do that, Evan.”
“Of course you can. I’m telling you what I think I need, but if you won’t give it to me?—”
“Okay—okay. Can you give me two weeks? I can’t just conjure a new assistant out of thin air.”
He takes a breath. “I wouldn’t want you to. Two weeks is fine.”
“So that’s it?” I ask.
“This is a lot, Isaac. You get that, right?”
“Yes,” I say, wishing it weren’t so fucking cold because I just want to sit down and put my head in my hands.
“This is really fucking with me,” he says.
