"Good. Send me a progress update Wednesday." She nods. "And Marcus? I know you'll deliver. That's why you're leading this division."
She ends the call and leans back in her chair, running a hand through her hair.
"Problem?" I ask.
"Nothing I can't handle." She smiles, and there's not a hint of the uncertainty that used to shadow her eyes. "Marcus needed a bit of ... motivation."
I snort. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"I believe the technical term is 'lighting a fire under his ass,'" she says primly, but her eyes sparkle with humor.
I remember the first board meeting I attended with her as the CEO—how she initially looked like she wanted to disappear, how her voice trembled slightly at the beginning, how she glanced at me for reassurance. Now she runs those meetings like she was born for it, cutting through bullshit and making decisions without second-guessing herself.
I look at Meredith now and see a completely different person. No, not different. The same woman, but now she has come into her own.
"What did Dex want?" she asks, standing and stretching. The movement pulls her dress tight across her body, and my mouth goes dry.
"Nothing important."
She raises an eyebrow. "That 'go to hell' sounded pretty emphatic for nothing important."
I shrug. "It's Dex. He brings it out in me."
Meredith walks around her desk, leans against it facing me. "One of these days, you two are going to admit you actually like each other."
"Not likely."
She laughs, and the sound still hits me in the chest every time I hear it. Genuine laughter was rare when I first met her. She used to police herself so carefully, like someone might take offense at her joy. She only ever laughed in the presence of her father.
"What was that bit at the end? The 'fuck off' part? I don't think I've heard that particular tone before." She cocks her head, studying me. "Almost like you were ... embarrassed?"
I hold her gaze. "Dex was being Dex."
She steps closer into my space. "Which means?"
"Which means he has opinions about things that aren't his business."
She reaches up and straightens my tie, though it doesn't need it. "About me?"
"About us."
Meredith smiles, her fingers linger at my collar. "I like the sound of that. Us."
The box in my pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. I've been waiting for the perfect moment, which is ridiculous because there's no such thing. I've faced down armed men without hesitation, but the thought of pulling out this ring has my heart pounding against my ribs.
"What's up with you?" she asks suddenly. "You're acting weird."
"I'm not weird."
"You're hovering more than usual."
"I don't hover."
She gives me a pointed look. "Cole, you're literally standing in the same spot you've been in for twenty minutes, just standing there, watching me. That's hovering."
“No, that’s standing still. Hovering implies movement. I’mnotmoving.” I grin despite myself. Two and a half years ago, she never would have challenged me like this. "I'm just doing my job."
"Your job is to make sure no one shoots me, not to burn a hole in the wall with your staring. Seriously, what's going on? You've been off all week."
