I ran my hand over the top of my head. “What does that even mean?”
“She’s given you what you want. Now she wants what she wants.”
“Denis”—I banged my head on the cushion behind it—“I’ve given her more than I’ve given anyone.”
“Have you considered her side of things?”
“I did tonight. In the fucking elevator.” I realized he had no idea what that meant, but the man wasn’t stupid—he knew me better than anyone. He could put the pieces together.
He turned at the light, heading toward my high-rise. “Perhaps you should look at things from a view that isn’t physical. I’m talking about the kind of ‘more’ that you haven’t given to anyone since Ben’s mother.”
He triggered a brief silence from me. “Asking for her number, that was more.”
“And in order to achieve that, it sounds like she’s going to make you work for it.”
The pounding on my office door caused me to glance up from my phone and shout, “Come in.” There was only one motherfucker who dared to hit my door that hard, and within a second, his face appeared in the now-open entryway.
A face much too excited for my liking.
“What’s got you smiling so hard?” I asked Jordan.
“I was just passing our assistant’s desk, and she was about to bring you this.” He pointed at the mug he was carrying and set it directly next to the one I’d just finished drinking. “I thought I’d bring it instead so I could check in with my older brother and see what’s making you cranky.”
“What would make you think I was cranky?”
“Because I know you.” He laughed.
The annoyance made me shake my head. “Why are you so chipper?”
He took a seat in one of the chairs and crossed his legs, adjusting his suit jacket and then his tie. “I had an excellent weekend with Maya.” He nodded toward me. “What’s crawled up your ass this fine morning?”
“It’s fucking Monday. It’s not even nine and I have over four hundred emails in my inbox and a full day of meetings I have no desire to attend.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re working that hard on clearing your inbox.” He pointed at the phone in my hands.
He was right.
I’d been making my way through Emily’s goddamn Instagram account.
Again.
But instead of admitting that, I replied, “I’m reading the emails from my phone.”
“When you have a desktop in front of you? That, with a quick highlight of your mouse, could delete the four hundred emails much faster?”
I set the phone down and leaned back in my chair, holding the armrests with fingertips that were turning white. “Did you come in to pick? Because if that’s the case”—I nodded toward the exit—“there’s the door.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” He smiled. “How was your weekend?”
I rocked in the chair, my cup of patience still not refilled from when Emily had left me in the back seat of the SUV. “Ben came home from Mom and Dad’s late Saturday morning. From there on, it was nonstop. Park. Skating. Food. Movies. More food. We slept and did it all again on Sunday.”
“What about Friday night?”
I made sure to keep my expression steady as I asked, “What about Friday night?”
“When you took Emily home.”
My hands left the armrests and folded in my lap. “What are you asking?”
