She shrugs, attempting to dry her eyes with the hem of her shirt.
I get up to grab a box of tissues, walking back over to her with them. “I have wine?”
“Ugh, yes, please.”
It’s barely ten a.m. in Texas, but it’s five o’clock somewhere.
I’m beltingout the last verse of a Blink-182 song when my phone starts to ring. Mel is dancing on the coffee table, using theremote as a microphone. The sunset is shining through the wall of windows in the spacious living area of Luke’s penthouse.
His name flashes across my caller ID, and a burst of giddiness courses through me.
“Oh my gosh, it’s him. He’s calling.” My words are a little slurred, but Mel turns to me with a megawatt smile.
“Answer it! Speakerphone!”
“Turn the music down.”
She has the remote and takes forever to find the Mute button. I swipe the green circle over on my touch screen.
“Hey, sexy boss man.” I clamp my hand over my mouth as soon as the words are out.
Mel isn’t as good at controlling her laughter, letting a snort out that almost sounds like a fart. I stand up to get farther away from her, swaying on my feet for a split second.
“Hey, gorgeous assistant...what are you doing?” His voice is deep and attractive, as usual.
“Missing my hot boss and drinking wine with my bestie and Speckles at his penthouse.”
“Is Speckles drinking wine?”
“Of course he is.”
“It’s too bad your boss can’t be there to pour it for you.”
“I know, right? He might take advantage of my state of intoxication if he were.”
“Hmm . . . that’s certainly a possibility.”
I giggle as I close the door to his bedroom, flopping myself on the enormous bed. “When will you be back?”
He sighs on the other line, and my stomach drops. I know he’s going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.
“I’ve got to make another trip...I don’t know if this line is secure, so I can’t tell you where. I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.”
I try not to let the disappointment get to me, but the sinking feeling in my chest is hard to ignore. He’s flirting with me over the phone, but is this going somewhere?
Am I the assistant he’s going to toss to the side when the wife material comes along?
“What is this?” I blurt out, clamping my hand over my mouth once again.
Where’s the aloof-Kate mask you’re supposed to be wearing?
“This . . . as in . . .”
“You know, this . . . us.”
I’m met with deafening silence on the other line.
My breathing halts as I realize what a fool I am for thinking “this” was anything to him other than a quick fling. My eyes take in the elaborate bedroom I’m in, my fingers grazing over the silk comforter.
