“Really?”
“I think so. I mean, he was smiling. He does that more than he used to.”
That I did know. I’ve been treated to real, genuine Arthur Stetson smiles for weeks now, and I can’t get enough.
“I’m going to meet Rhett online for gaming,” Sam tells me as he heads for the hallway. “Let me know if you need a taste tester.”
“Always.”
He pauses in the doorway. “You do too, you know.”
I look up, confused. “What?”
“You smile more. I mean, you always smiled a lot. But it’s like your default setting lately. You know?”
I beam at him, feeling my cheeks get warm. “Yeah, sweetie. I know.”
I’m still smiling after he’s gone. I keep smiling until the phone buzzes again. I flip it over revealing Shawn’s text.
Shawn: You can’t avoid me forever, Hummingbird.
I press my hand to my forehead, attempting to relieve the growing ache. I know I need to talk to someone about this. But I don’t know who.
No, that’s not true. I want to talk to Arthur about it. There have been several times in the last week that I almost did. Just opened my mouth and waited for all the ugliness to spew out. But I don’t know how to tell him. Worse, I don’t know how he’ll react.
I assume he’ll be supportive. And outraged on my behalf.He’ll probably make it his life’s mission to fix this for me. To make it all go away. But he’s under so much pressure with the playoffs I don’t want to put that on him.
And maybe there’s a tiny part of me that’s scared to tell him. Afraid he might judge me. Might think less of me.
I grab my phone and open my messages but I don’t hit Shawn’s name.
Elliot: When were you going to tell me about the birthday party?
The dots appear immediately.
Arthur: Sam said it was more of a birthday dinner. He also said it was a surprise.
Elliot: I don’t like the men in my life conspiring against me.
Arthur: You got it. No more secrets, Boss.
A pang of guilt hits me right in the gut. No more secrets.
Elliot: Fine. I will allow this small gathering to celebrate my birth. But no presents.
Arthur: No can do. I already got your gift. And it’s perfect.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ARTHUR
Not only doI not have a birthday present for Elliot, I have no fucking idea what to get her.
I drum my fingers over the jewelry store counter. I feel like a crow, distracted by shiny thing after shiny thing. I look at the watch on my wrist that confirms that the team plane leaves for Boston in less than two hours. Even though her birthday supper isn’t until next week, I want to get this done before we’re away for three nights.
“Would you like to see anything in particular?” the store attendant asks. I saw him give my expensive suit a once over when I walked in. I probably made his day. “Some rings, perhaps?”
Good God, no. I’m having a hard enough time trying to figure out how to make cohabitation a possibility. Buying Elliot a ring would have her running for the hills.
