“Ridiculous? I thought women liked their boyfriends to call them during the day.”
“Typically, we do, but not after said boyfriend just criticized her.”
“I’m sure you took it the wrong way because I know for a fact that your boss thinks you’re amazing and talented.”
I sank into my chair and sighed. “Ian, how are we going to make this work?”
“Kelli, we’re not the first couple to work together. We both need to be determined to make it work, and please know there is nothing more important to me than making us work. So, will you go to lunch with me?”
How could I refuse after such a sweet speech?
We met at his rental car at high noon. His Infiniti had been totaled and he hadn’t purchased a new car yet. In fact, he asked me if I wanted to go car shopping with him that night, something else I agreed to do.
Lunch was fabulous. He took me to the park, and we ate peanut butter and jam sandwiches, but the best part was just lying in his lap while he stroked my hair. We talked about all the somethings and even the nothings of life while we enjoyed the warm sunny weather. It made me not want to return to the office where I became Ms. Bryant again.
“Please try and understand. I don’t want to repeat past mistakes, especially when so much hangs in the balance,” he begged on the way back to the office.
It was a sweet sentiment, and on many levels, I got it. It was just hard for me.
“So, hypothetically speaking, what’s going to happen if, you know . . . our title changes to a more forever type of scenario? Will you call me Mrs. Greyson in the office?”
He picked up my hand and kissed it. “I like the sound of that, but no, I wouldn’t call my wife that.”
“So, what would you call me?”
“Are you saying you want to get married?” he asked instead of answering.
It was very warm all of a sudden. I had imagined marrying him more times than I could count, but I wasn’t ready to take the plunge with him . . . yet. I wanted to work on getting to know him again, to see if we were still the right match. My guess was we still were, but thirteen years is a long time to be apart, and I needed time to learn how to trust him again. I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe someday.”
He kissed my hand and smiled. “Well, then, someday I’ll tell you.”
“Has anyone ever told you how infuriating you are?”
He laughed. “You’re not the first.”
“Well, you know the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem,” I quipped.
His smirk said he probably wasn’t going to change. I figured that was the case.
I did get some vindication that afternoon as we met with Matt, and he was blown away by my designs. What did he say?’ “Kelli is the only designer we need for this project.” I tried not to smile too big. But sometimes it was so difficult to be professional.
AS THE WEEKS WENT BY, we eased into an uneasy pattern, at least for me. We kept it professional at the office and passionate on the off hours and weekends. With each passing day I wanted more and more to be just Kelli. But I soon got an up close and personal view on why Ian was so adamant about keeping the two separated.
A few weeks after the accident, Ian and I were having lunch together. I reveled in that hour every workday where I was Kelli and he was Ian, but that particular day he received a phone call from his attorney that he had to take. I could tell right away the news wasn’t good. I’m not sure I had ever seen Ian turn so red, and I won’t even talk about the swearing. I was glad we were at the park and not at a restaurant. He got up from our blanket and began pacing around while ranting to his attorney on the other end. I sat there and watched. I knew better than to try and intervene.
After several minutes, he sat down and joined me again. I was afraid to even ask what that was all about, but I wanted to make it better for him. I reached up and placed my hand upon his still reddened cheek. “Ian . . .”
He reached up and touched my hand with his own and then slid it down my arm. “I didn’t mean to ruin our lunch.”
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t want to involve you.”
I dropped my hand. “Why?”
His features softened, as did his tone. “Numbers eight and nine on your list.”
I half grinned. “I already know you come with a lot of baggage, buddy.”
