“So I guess in a way I was avoiding you, but not because of that. I want—” My fingers tingle with nervousness. Strange that something I feel so strongly is also so hard to put into words. “I want to do the exact opposite of avoid you, basically.”
I hold my breath, waiting to see if he believes me. He catches my hand in his, raising it gently to his lips.
“OK,” he says. “Then let’s go. I’m starving.”
—
He marches us across the street and to the taco spot on the corner, ordering us both a mountain of food and instructing me to elbow my way into a spot by the window. It’s standing room only, so I hover, stretching my palms along the white tile countertop in front of me, claiming as much space as I dare.
He really wasn’t lying when he said he was hungry. By the time he’s inhaled his first taco, his whole demeanor has changed. His shoulders drop, his posture relaxes. He’s back to the calm, easygoing Connor who somehow never seems to have a care in the world.
“I thought you were going to give me hell about the meeting,” he says, wiping at his fingers with a crumpled napkin.
“I am,” I tell him. “As soon as I finish eating.”
He huffs a laugh. “That’s allowed. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.”
Connor’s apologies disarm me every time—I’m powerless to resist the simple honesty with which he delivers them.
I take a swig of my orange soda. “Not even going to attempt to defend yourself?”
“If I was,” he says casually, “I’d say that I had just been dumped and then bamboozled by the boss in front of my whole team, and was feeling testy.”
“You hadn’t been dumped.”
“I didn’t know that at the time.”
I tug on his sleeve. “I know you’re joking. But—I don’t like that you thought that.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just ducks his head into my shoulder and plants a kiss on the side of my neck. Heat blooms from the spot where he touchedme.
He straightens. “I’m reluctant to repeat my opinion on the templates since it made you so mad this morning.”
“I can feel the ‘but’ coming.”
“I don’t think it’s going to work,” he admits. “But I swear I didn’t tell Brad I think he should killit.”
“OK.”
“I will talk to him again,” he promises me. “The thing is, though, he’s really on one with the whole free tier thing. Even if the integrated templates were ready, I’m honestly not sure he’d go for it—he wants to push the software in a completely different direction. There’s nothing I can do to change that.”
“Of course.”
“But Annie,” Connor says, searching my face. “Don’t repeat anything from that meeting this morning. The stuff about rolling out 3.0 ahead of schedule and plans for a float are lockdown confidential. Now would not be the time to fall foul of Brad.”
Nowwouldbe the time to admit I’d already gone downstairs and strongly hinted at all this, but I don’t want to ruin this moment. Instead, I make a mental note to remind Andy to play it cool, then banish the subject from my mind.
Thirty
The next two days with Connor pass in a happy bubble of stolen kisses and secret glances. We’re busy on all the opposite days, but make plans for the weekend, texting back and forth through the evenings until we’re back together each morning to pick the conversation up where we left off.
By the time the product department’s all-hands comes around on Thursday, I’d forgotten all about it. When the calendar reminder pops up in the morning, I remember with a jolt that I’d meant to follow up with Andy. He’s been suspiciously silent since we spoke on Monday, working, I hope, on a prototype that will help people understand how great the integrated templates couldbe.
I fire him off a quick message.
ANNIE:Hey. Good luck at the AH today. Please be careful not to give away that you know anything about Brad’s potential plans—it’s really confidential!!
It’s fully forty-five minutes before he replies.
