When I place the pile of documents on his desk, I pause, wondering if it would be so bad if I took a quick peek at his office.
I knew this would happen, that I’d want to snoop if I stepped foot in here, and it’s one of the many reasons I stayed away.
What good would it do my mental health?
But now…I’m here, and his space is calling my name.
It’s similar to Leo’s, as it’s a corner office with oversized windows, enclosed by glass walls that are currently frosted enough that no one can see in.
Thankfully.
The one solid wall behind his desk is brick, no doubt original to the building. The ceilings are tall, with exposed piping and black beams, and his desk is a matching oversized black metal industrial-style table.
I do something even more stupid than snooping. I sit in his plush high-back leather office chair, which is a unique color that can only be described as burnt orange, and let myself feel Nate in a way I haven’t for years.
He hasn’t been in the office for weeks, yet his presence is felt throughout the space.
Maybe it’s because his office is exactly how I would have pictured it—industrial, masculine, and rich in luxury—and it feels familiar to me.
I lean my head back and spin around, coming face to face with a credenza full of picture frames.
My lips tilt, smiling wide. Almost all of them are filled with Claudina, and most of those are her in a pink tutu.
Then I stop at one frame that stands out from the rest.
The blood drains from my face. Staring back at me in the picture…is me.
Us.
Without a second’s thought, I reach forward and pick it up to give it a better inspection.
It’s of Nate and me, and it’s not just one picture but a collage of some of our happiest memories.
For a while, I stare dumbfounded, unsure how to react because my immediate thought surprises me.
We look like we belong together.
For a long time, I couldn’t look at a picture of Nate without feeling red-hot anger.
There were times I felt sadness and a loss that I didn’t want to dive into, but mostly, it was resentment.
Not sure when that stopped, because I don’t feel any of those feelings at the moment.
“We were always good together, Mads.” Nate’s deep baritone has me dropping the frame like a hot potato.
Luckily, it lands in my lap as I spin around in his office chair. I don’t attempt to get up. Instead, I stare at him, unable to speak, because he’s stolen all the air from my lungs.
I haven’t been this close to Nate in years, and holy hell, time has been on his side.
He’s gorgeous.
Not that he wasn’t always. But now his boyish charm has turned into that of a sophisticated man.
When he pushes off the door frame in his fitted jeans, black T-shirt, and blazer, my sudden haze clears, and I snap back to reality.
I drop the photo and stand in a rush.
“What are you doing here?” I splutter.
