“It’s not like that,” I protest, but even I can hear how unconvincing I sound. “We probably won’t even stay in the same hotel.”
“Honey, if separate apartments couldn’t keep you two apart last night, what makes you think different hotels will help with your self-control?” She grins wickedly. “This is either going to be the best business trip ever or a complete disaster.”
“We didn’t even talk about it this morning,” I admit, anxiety creeping into my voice. “We got…distracted.”
“Are you worried?” she says gently, studying my face. “About the workplace complications? The power dynamics?”
The question sobers me. “Of course I am,” I admit, holding the kitten closer. “He’s my boss. He’s older, sophisticated, has his life completely together. I’m…me. Everything about this is complicated.”
“But?” She prompts when I fall silent.
“But he makes me feel safe,” I say finally. “Like I can be fully myself, chaos and competence, art and anxiety, everything I usually try to keep separate.”
“And CANVAS?” Alli asks. “Please tell me you’re finally going. After all, you’ll be in New York already.”
My face lights up despite my worries. “Yeah, I think I’m going. The timing works out perfectly, and all I need is to figure out the return flight because coming back at a different time isn’t covered under work expenses, and I’ll need a hotel I can afford because I’ll be paying for the extra two nights since that’s a personal expense.”
“That’s amazing! See? The universe is conspiring to help you.”
“Or to completely destroy my life,” I mutter, but I’m smiling now.
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Alli points out cheerfully.
She reaches over to scratch behind the kitten’s ears. “Just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll be careful with your heart.”
I’m not sure I’m capable of anything but being reckless with my heart. People don’t call me Meatball for nothing, after all. But I can’t say that to my best friend because she’ll worry, and if I’m truly honest with myself, she has every reason to.
“I promise to try,” I say instead, which is the best I can offer.
It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.
“You brought out the good stuff for this interrogation. I’m turning the tables now. Tell me everything about your date last night.”
Alli’s expression shifts to something softer, more vulnerable,which makes me sit up straighter despite the wine-induced relaxation. “Did I tell you he’s a vet?”
I laugh. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me. You have a soft spot for anyone and anything that loves animals.”
She hides her blush behind her wine glass. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who didn’t sleep alone last night.”
18
PIERCE
The doorto my office opens without warning, and Thatcher bursts in with his usual whirlwind energy. His tie hangs slightly crooked, and his curls look like they’re actively fighting whatever product he uses to tame them.
“I’ve been looking at the hotels in New York,” he starts, pacing in front of my desk with nervous energy that sets my teeth on edge. “I mean. I know New York is expensive, but…and with the conference fee. Anyway, I’ve found some options though. There’s this hostel in Brooklyn that has decent reviews…”
My fingers tighten around my pen as he lists increasingly concerning accommodation options. Each suggestion is increasingly unsuitable, especially when he mentions a “budget-friendly” motel near the airport that advertises hourly rates.
“And I know it’s not ideal,” he continues, checking his phone, “but if I take the red-eye flight on Saturday instead of staying that extra night, I could save enough to upgrade from the hostel to maybe a two-star hotel. Though the bed bug reviews are a bit concerning…”
The pen creaks in my grip as I watch him pace, noting how he bites his lower lip between sentences, how his usual confident energy has transformed into something more fragile. The thought of him staying somewhere unsafe makes something possessive curl in my stomach.
“The conference website lists some roommate-matching options,” he says, scrolling through his phone with increasing desperation. “Though sharing with strangers might be awkward, given my tendency to sleep-organize when I’m in a strange place. When I moved in with Alli during college, I reorganized her sock drawer at three a.m…while she was sleeping five feet away.”
His rambling continues as I stand slowly, my movement deliberately careful as I cross to the glass panels that face the rest of the office and close the blinds. Thatcher’s voice falters as I reach the last window, his words trailing off into a questioning silence.
The door lock clicks softly, and when I turn, his eyes have widened with a recognition that makes heat pool in my stomach. He takes a half-step back as I approach, but his retreat stops when his thighs hit my desk.
