Fuck.
I stared past him for a second, focusing on the faint reflection of us in the glass wall behind his desk.We look good together. At least they’ll get nice pictures of us.
Shoving the thought straight into a mental incinerator, I dragged in a steadying breath and forced brightness into my tone before I completely unraveled. “Alright then, but you’ve missed a massive step.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah, what’s that?”
I held up my left hand and wiggled my fingers at him. “I need a ring, Nate. If we’re officially engaged and we need to go out into the world to prove it, I’m going to need a big ol’ rock on this finger.”
CHAPTER 23
NATE
Iknocked on Kate’s door the next morning and immediately wondered just how the fuck we’d gotten here. A month ago, she’d been an enemy at a conference. Today, we were going to get her a ring.
Fucking life, man. Seriously.
Footsteps padded across the hardwood inside. Then the door cracked open just enough for her to peer out, her hair messily up, her makeup half-done, and one earring missing.
“I’m not ready yet,” she said, pushing the door open wider. “You can come in, but you’re going to have to wait.”
“I figured,” I said, stepping past her. “I came prepared for it.”
The faint scent of citrus and coffee that had probably already gone cold wafted through the air as I settled on her couch. She disappeared back down the hallway, the sound of drawers opening and closing echoing intermittently from her bedroom.
As I sat there, it felt weirdly domestic to be waiting for her, familiar in way I had no right to feel just yet.
This is a glimpse into my future though, waiting on my wife before we start the day together.
The thought probably should’ve unsettled me, made me itch with panic or want to grab my running shoes and take off.Instead, a slow smile spread across my lips because honestly I didn’t mind.
I liked the quiet, being here, and knowing she was just down the hall, muttering to herself while she got ready. My smile widened before I could catch it and I dropped my head back, scrubbing my palms over my face until I felt it fade.
But the truth was that I liked this. I liked it a little too much, but after spending most of my life looking forward to marriage, I should’ve known that the feeling would be welcome instead of terrifying. On the other hand, Kate and I would never really have this, would we?
As soon as she could, she was jetting back to New York. Her clothes would never be in my closet. She would never get ready in a bedroom we shared. That more than anything else was what finally knocked the elation out of my sails.
She finally reappeared twenty minutes later, tugging at a curl near her temple with visible irritation. “The humidity is killing my blowout. It’s like the city itself is attacking me.”
“Are you ready?” I asked, standing as she grabbed her purse and her keys.
“Yes. No. Let’s just go before it gets worse.”
I bit back a laugh and followed her out, guiding her toward the elevator. She kept tugging at her hair the entire elevator ride, examining strands like they were betraying her for not staying put.
We reached my SUV parked in its usual corner and I opened her door. She slid in before I closed it and circled around to the driver’s seat. In the current media storm, I was glad I didn’t have a flashy car that would stick out in traffic.
Instead, I drove a dark graphite hybrid with tinted windows, expensive but understated. There were dozens more like it in the city. No one would know we were in this one.
The drive through downtown Chicago was its usual morning mixture of steel, glass, and traffic. Kate angled the mirror toward herself, still wrestling with her hair. After another thirty seconds, she huffed dramatically and twisted it into a messy bun.
“What’s the deal with your hair?” I asked, glancing at her.
“It’s rebelling,” she said primly. “The humidity really isn’t working with me.”
I reached over before I could overanalyze the instinct, catching a loose curl that had escaped near her ear. It was softer than I’d expected. Springier, too. I smoothed it gently behind her ear, my fingers brushing her temple by not-a-complete accident.
“Is your hair naturally curly?” I asked.
