When I’m finally ready, I take a breath before opening the bedroom door. My hand hesitates on the knob for just a second.
It’s stupid, but I feel like a bride about to step out for the first look on her wedding day. That same fluttery, anticipatory feeling in my stomach. Abefore-and-aftermoment about to unfold.
I open the door.
Bastian turns at the sound, and our eyes lock.
The air between us thickens. His gaze rakes over me ravenously, and even through all my layers, I feel exposed.Seen. His jawtightens, and there’s heat in his eyes that I’ve only ever seen in the half-gloom of an elevator suspended in time.
My breath catches.
So does his.
Then his mouth twitches, and suddenly, he’s laughing, and the spell breaks. “You look like a marshmallow.”
My face twists up in a scowl. “You just can’t help being an asshole, can you?”
He bites back a cackle. “You’re wearing so many layers that you’re wider than you are tall, Eliana.”
“Says the guy who barged into my home at the ass crack of dawn to drag me to the lake! In Chicago! In February!”
“You’re the one who made the agenda,” he counters. “I’m merely executing it.”
“You— I— Ugh!” I stamp and exhale an angry half-scream. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself as he turns and retreats into the hallway. “Neither can I.”
I make Bastian promise not to say a word to me until I’m halfway done with my coffee. He nods and hands me a thermos, then stares out at the slate blue surface of the lake.
We’re sitting in the back of his car with the trunk raised up. The wind off the lake is brutally cold, but the car heaters are cranked to full blast and we’re both buried under a pair of the thickestblankets I’ve ever seen. I’m also dressed like the Michelin Man, so I’m not even shivering.
Bastian, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered by the cold. Like he doesn’t even feel it.
After a few minutes, I smack my lips and sigh. “Alright,” I announce. “The embargo has been lifted. You may speak.”
“Generous of you.”
“I am nothing if not a magnanimous queen.”
Silence again. The tension is ripe, but neither of us are quite willing to broach it just yet.
I take another long pull from the thermos. “How’s Zeke?”
Bastian blinks. “He’s… fine.”
“Is he ever gonna call Yasmin?”
“I wouldn’t know. I make it a point not to involve myself in his romantic disasters.”
“Smart policy.”
“I thought so.”
More coffee. He does the same. I watch a jogger pass by on the lakefront trail, their breath making clouds in the frigid air.
“So the HVAC situation,” he starts.
“It’s a nightmare,” I finish. “But fixable, I think. Frank sent over the full assessment. I’ve already started working on contingency plans.”
