Melvin chatters away for the first half of the drive home, but as my responses get more monosyllabic, he eventually falls silent. I nurse my drink, staring morosely out of the window.
I should be elated by the deal with Barnes. I should be calling my co-workers and shoving it down the throats of those who doubted I would pull it off.
But instead, I just feel numb, wondering idly what Amelia is doing.
Would it be insane for me to ask Melvin to drive me to her place?
Yes. Thatwouldbe insane. I’ve already stretched the rules with her hours enough, but the lines between us are becoming increasingly blurred.
The way she cared for me when I was sick has stuck with me for days. She didn’t just come by, dump the files, and head back to the office. She went up to my room, took my temperature, and brought me Tylenol and ice water throughout the day. It was caring, thoughtful, and unexpected.
I finish my drink as Melvin pulls up to my apartment.
“Have a good night,” I murmur. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Everything alright, sir?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m just exhausted.”
I get out of the car, watching the Lexus roll away into the night, and consider calling Amelia. My jaw clenches as my hand moves automatically toward the pocket where my cell rests against my chest.
Why do I want to see her so badly? I’m not even horny. I just want to tell her about my day. Fuck.
As I walk through the lobby of the apartment building, I’m aware of high heels clicking nearby. That isn’t so unusual, but when they follow me to the elevator, I turn, anticipating the manager needing to speak to me about something.
Instead, it’s Megan.
She’s standing behind me, her hair falling in long, beautiful cascades down her back. A dark green dress hugs her figure beneath a designer black jacket that probably cost more than my suit.
Her lipstick and makeup are flawless; her beautiful face framed with loose strands of hair that I’ve curled behind her ears countless times.
What the hell is she doing here?
“Hi Lucas,” she says breezily, glancing at the elevator. I haven’t called it, and I don’t plan to until she tells me what she wants.
“Megan,” I say, staring her down, and she rolls her eyes.
“My God, you’re so irritable these days. It’s like talking to Hans Gruber.”
I can’t help but smile at that. She always joked that my obsession with never having socks and shoes on was due to my love of the film Die Hard.
“What do you want, Meg?” I ask, and she softens at the nickname.
“I wanted to take you to dinner. I feel like things are still a little… awkward between us, and your mother was on at me about it.”
“My mother?”
“Yes. She has some intriguing misconceptions that I broke your heart. She’s adamant that I have to make amends so that we can be a big happy family again.”
Huh. Elona is full of surprises.
“Youwant to take me to dinner?” I ask skeptically.
“Hanson’s is only around the corner, and you know I love that place. I haven’t been in forever. For old times' sake?”
She looks at me through her lashes, her eyelids hooded and sensual. God, what that look used to do to me. There’s every chance she ends up in my bed tonight, and I jump at the opportunity to banish thoughts of Amelia for good.
Maybe this is just what I need. To get into bed with someone else and realize that Amelia isn’t quite as perfect as my mind has made her out to be.
