“Someone told me that kindness was self-care.”
“Speaking of self-care,” she said, “how do you like your terrace?”
I gave her a confused look.
“All your new patio furniture arrived, that apparently you didn’t notice.”
“I was distracted,” I murmured against her neck.
“We’re using it tonight,” she declared.
“So you can try to burn down my penthouse again?”
“We’re making s’mores tonight.” She grabbed my tie. “And watching movies. I’m making popcorn.”
“I need to work.”
“You just had a huge successful trip,” she cried, “and you gave all your employees who went on it the next few days off to recover.”
“Yes, because they’re my employees.”
“Have you ever even used that movie theater?”
“I don’t have a movie theater.” I took a sip of my drink.
“You don’t—What the—Yes, you do!” Her voice rose.
I shushed her with a kiss.
“You have one. I’ve been in it, and we’re watching101 Dalmatians,” she whispered.
I frowned and pulled up the plans to the penthouse on my phone while Lexi rattled off the menu selections to Matt.
“Can we get another round too?” Lexi asked, pointing to the glasses.
“Coming right up. I’ll bring the plates out as the chef prepares them,” Matt promised her.
“I ordered fried calamari,” Lexi informed me. “You can’t eat that leftover. I don’t care how good your air fryer is.”
“Apparently I do have a home theater room,” I admitted to her, putting away my phone. “You’re right.”
She gave me an assessing look. “You know, when I first got the job, I seriously debated secretly moving into your penthouse. But then I thought you might eventually notice. Glad to know that you’re not observant.”
“I’m observant,” I protested.
“How many times this week did I wear this outfit?” she countered.
“Trick question. I wasn’t in the office this week.”
“Okay, last week.”
“I don’t remember what you were wearing last week. Except for my shirt, which you were wearing when you called me.” I nuzzled her neck. “You don’t remember what I was wearing.”
“On Monday of last week you wore the charcoal-gray suit with the tie with the pattern that looks like little hamsters, and on Tuesday you wore the navy suit with the green-blue tie,” she recited.
“I don’t have a tie with hamsters on it.” I scowled.
“It’s an abstracted hamster pattern.”
