“Did your brother come too?”
“No. This was when he was still a baby. My mom was born in New York, and she loved coming back.” His voice carries an edge of old pain. I want to ask him more about his mom, but I don’t like seeing the sadness in his eyes.
Instead, I lean in to capture his mouth in a kiss. His other hand finds my waist as he responds with equal enthusiasm, and for several perfect moments, nothing exists except the press of his lips and the warmth of sunlight on our skin.
When we finally break apart, we’re both slightly breathless, and Pierce’s smile carries such genuine happiness that I have to capture it. I grab my phone and open the photo app.
“Our first selfie,” I declare, holding the camera at what I hope is a flattering angle. “Smile for posterity, Mr. Dellcourt.”
I snap the photo before he changes his mind. The resulting photo captures something I’ve never seen before—Pierce looking at me with such open affection that it makes me want to believe in things I never thought possible.
“Send that to me?” he asks softly, his arm still wrapped around my waist.
“Of course.”
The afternoon sun shifts higher as we reluctantly leave our peaceful spot by the lake, Pierce’s hand finding mine again.
Me, Thatcher “Meatball” Edward Charles III—god, I hate my parents—is now one of those people who walk in the park holding hands. I have someone to hold hands with. As my chest expands with mushy feelings, I pray that the remaining hours we have together will go as slowly as humanly possible.
“Thank you,” I say as we settle into the taxi to the airport. “For today, for this whole trip. For showing me this beautiful city.”
Pierce’s hand finds mine across the seat. “Thank you for letting me share it with you.”
As Manhattan disappears behind us, I stare out the window and try not to think about what happens when we land back in Cliffborough. We’ll return to being boss and assistant, to stolen moments and professional distance. The thought makes my stomach twist.
What do I do?
It’s a question that boops around my head like a game of Ping-Pong the whole flight home.
My apartment door is already unlocked when I reach it, which means Alli used her emergency key again. I find her sprawled on my couch with Berry curled up on her chest. Atleast there’s no wine this time. I’m not sure I could survive wine in my delicate emotional state.
“Welcome home, traveler,” she says without looking up from her phone. “How was the Big Apple?”
“How did you know I was back?”
“Flight tracker app. I’m very invested in your love life. Besides, Josh left earlier, and if I’d stayed home, I would have called him to come back for a repeat of this afternoon’s repeat.” She finally looks up, scanning the room behind me with obvious disappointment. “Where’s your silver fox? I was hoping for another free show.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “We decided to go home separately. Since we have to be at the office in the morning, it seemed more…appropriate. You know, professional.”
“Professional.” Alli sits up to make room for me on the couch, dislodging Berry, who gives her an offended look. “Right. Because nothing says professional like hickeys that makeup can’t cover.” She gestures at my neck. “Seriously, Meatball, did he try to eat you?”
I touch my throat self-consciously. “We may have gotten a little carried away.”
“A little?” She pours wine into both glasses, handing me one. “Spill. How was CANVAS? Did you meet any publishers? Make any connections?”
“The conference was amazing,” I say as Berry claims my lap. “I met some incredible artists, got some real interest in my work. There’s a publisher who wants to see more of my portfolio.”
“That’s fantastic! So why do you look like someone stole your favorite pencil?”
“It’s not what happened at the conference that’s worrying me. It’s everything else.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m in love with him, Alli.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Not just attracted, not just infatuated. I’m completely, stupidly, head-over-heels in love with my boss, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”
Alli’s expression softens. “Oh, honey.”
“I can’t keep working for him and pretending this is just physical. I can’t sit in meetings taking notes while all I want to do is kiss him senseless. And I definitely can’t keep having the best sex of my life with my boss and expect it to end well. Not to mention that if we get found out, I could lose my job, and it would ruin his reputation.”
