“Your snores are cuter,” I whisper to Nessa, my lips tugging into a smile as her tiny fingers twitch. “Let’s let your mommy rest for a bit, huh? Should we go chat with your daddy?”
She stirs faintly at this, which I take to mean yes.
Later, maybe, I’ll pick Denice’s brain on how to ask out a woman for real. I’m in no rush. I meant what I said about Aurora having a lot on her plate right now, what with her work for me and trying to get Tyler to pay half the balance and?—
I halt in my tracks and straighten up so suddenly that Nessa stirs again. I relax so that she stays comfortable, but my mind doesn’t slow down; it continues to work through the thought that’s just come to me, until a rough plan begins to form.
And…it’s a good idea.
I wouldn’t be able to tell Aurora, of course. She would throw a fit. But she wouldn’t need to know.
I nod decisively. It will be too late when I get home to make that phone call, and I’ll need to figure out a way to get the phone number anyway.
Tomorrow, though? Tomorrow I’ll put this idea into action.
AURORA
It could not be clearerthat Roman is excited to leave this office. He’s been walking around whistling all morning, a cheerful rendition of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.”
I didn’t see much of him last week, and I saw none of him over the weekend—which is fine. Preferable, even. I’m making great progress on his house, and as per our agreement, he’s now paying me weekly. This job won’t turn any major tides for me financially, but I breathe significantly easier when I see that little number go up in my bank account.
Because I’m trying to be thoughtful and non-scary, I waited until this morning to text Tyler again—in other words, until business hours rolled around. I’m not sure he’s earned that courtesy, but the difference between Sunday night and Monday morning is minimal anyway. So when I got to the office and satdown at my desk, I pulled out my phone and sent him a message asking how his job hunt was going.
He has not responded, which I choose to believe is because he’s busy polishing his résumé and cannot afford to be disturbed. So I set my phone aside and get to work.
Our ticket numbers are picking up, which is a huge relief. We’re lining up everything with our vendors, too, and working on the catering. But the entire time I’m sitting at my desk, a corner of my brain is also trying to wander down the hall to the makeshift office at the end.
It’s dumb, obviously. I don’t need to be thinking about Roman. I don’t need to be thinking about anything at all right now except for tablecloths and napkins. But my mind plays hooky all the same.
I tell myself it’s because I’m tired, and when I’m tired I can’t always focus.
It will be good for the new boss to get here, because she’s the one who will be here for the months Denice is on maternity leave, and she’s someone Denice helped choose. That earns her my vote of confidence. Roman basically does nothing—he said so himself—and I’m skeptical of half the decisions he makes.
Even so…I can’t deny he’s charismatic, or that he makes this place a little less mundane.
And then, as though he knows I’m thinking about him—somehow I wouldn’t put it past him, either, because he’s arrogant enough—he appears.
He strolls past our block of desks, and it really is a stroll—a lazy, ambling walk, completely unhurried and unburdened. I’m not sure I’ve ever walked like that. When our eyes meet, a grin unfurls over his lips, a mischievous expression.
I narrow my eyes at him automatically, because he looks like he’s up to something, but all I get is a wink in return before he’s passed out of sight. The renewed sound of his whistling reachesme a second later—only now it’s “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon.
The audacity. And why do I feel like laughing?
The feeling tries to bubble up in my chest, so I shove it down and stomp on it a few times for good measure. Then I turn my attention back to my computer screen and attempt better focus once again.
But the man just can’t leave things alone. My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and when I read it, I sigh.
Roman Drake
As heartbreaking as this will be for you, I’m once again unsure whether I’ll be around this afternoon when you come by. Let yourself in with the key.
And try to miss me when I’ve left Soul2Soul. Crying into your pillow would be appropriate.
Me
Dream on, Roman Drake.
As he warns me, he’s not home when I go to clean and organize later that day. I finish the spare bedroom, because I started it last week but never got around to the closets or the vacuuming. I’ve grown more comfortable in this house and my work here, especially since Roman has been gone lately, so I decide I’m going to start dressing more comfortably too—out go the jeans and in come the leggings.
