“Careful now, if you keep that up, I might end up falling for you.”
Leaning in, I whisper beside her ear, “Good,” then retreat before I do something reckless like pin her to the bed and make love to her all night.
I only make it to her bedroom door when she calls after me, “Stay for dessert?”
Summoning all of the self-control I have, I pause at the door and reply over my shoulder, “Bring it to work tomorrow and we’ll share it. Have a good night,abayarde.”
I continue out of her apartment, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. Once I’m at the hotel, I plug in my phone and notice a new text.
Aubrey
Have plans for breakfast?
It’s included at the hotel.
She types for at least a full minute before her reply comes through.
Never mind then.
I’m going to eat here. If you’re sure you want me to stay with you this week, then I’ll pack my bag before I leave. Either way, I’ll have breakfast with you.
That’s ridiculous. If you’re eating breakfast at the hotel, then you wouldn’t need to have breakfast with me.
I’ll bring you a decaf coffee and a turkey sausage breakfast burrito like the ones we had when we were at the summit. I’ll have a fully-caffeinated coffee while I watch you take three bites and say you’re full.
That’s not funny!
Okay, it’s a little funny, but you don’t need to bring me breakfast.
See you in the morning.
I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and get ready for bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day of back-to-back meetings… and trying to not touch Aubrey.
22
Aubrey
I’m restless all night, unable to get comfortable but also obsessing over the events of the past twenty-four hours. Jamie left behind his life and his three billion plants to give us a chance. I didn’t ask for it, he just did it, knowing what he’s in for—including me carrying a child that isn’t his.
My entire life, I’ve catered to everyone else. Growing up in an affluent family, it was expected that the only reason I would go to college was to bag a rich husband. When I think back to my early twenties, I checked that box, but more than that, I found my best friend and a chance to change the world. Through all of it—my teens, my college years, graduate school, post-divorce—I’ve never been in love. At least not how Olivia loves Isaac.
Whatever this is with Jamie is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Since the moment we met, there’s been no games, no guessing. He’s been clear about his intentions from the first night we met. Pushing him away was easy, or at least I thought it was, but I hated every minute of it.
I can’t sleep and make my way to the kitchen and start my hot water kettle. Perusing my tea selection, nothing seems to standout as a good option. What I want is a dirty martini with four olives and to be plowed into a mattress. Neither are happening tonight, so chamomile it is.
Once I’ve poured the water over the tea bags, I open one of my social media apps and scroll. Tracy has really done an incredible job with Olivia’s official page, and it’ll only get better with Jamie leading her team. California loves Livy, and based on the comments, so does the rest of the world. Kristin’s right and my best friend could very well end up running for President after a few terms as Governor.
After a few dunks of the bags, I set the tea aside and start a five-minute timer, then rest my elbows on the counter, clicking on the search bar. It’s been weeks since I’ve internet-stalked Jamie, but my app knows what I’m up to, only typing three letters before he’s the first option to click on. There’s a little green dot indicating he’s online. It’s three in the morning, why the fuck is he awake?
Without second thought, I click the little message button and type.
Why are you up?
It showsreadwithin two seconds and I quickly exit out of the app. If he asks tomorrow, I’ll just claim I was half-asleep when I sent it. Placing my phone screen-side down, I dip my tea bag a few more times. I’m not sure if it actually helps to steep the tea, but it feels right. On the last dunk, my phone vibrates, startling me. It has to be Jamie, and I slowly turn my phone, willing it to just be a spam text from a retailer. Of course it isn’t, it’s a video call. I can’t even say that this is the unsexiest he’s ever seen me—I’m pretty sure the face mask takes the cake.
I blow out a long breath and click the little green button. His room is dark; the only light illuminating his face is from the phone screen. And, of course, it just makes him even more handsome.
“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you,” I offer, adjusting my top to ensure my tits aren’t hanging out.
