37
Weston calls me into his office as soon as I get to work. I’m happy to get away from my desk since Rosetta is busy arguing over the phone with one of her kids, something about the car.
He’s in fine form in grey slacks and a fitted grey long sleeve shirt.
“You look wonderful,” he says. “Like you always do.”
I study my plaid skirt and pink top, and the vintage Franco Toscini heels I inherited from my mother.
He rises from his desk. “I just realized that I don’t have a single photo of you.”
“I don’t either,” I point out. “I don’t have a single picture of you either.”
“Well, I think we should rectify that right now, don’t you?”
I smile. “What kind of photos did you have in mind?”
His grin is playful. “Oh, nothing too scandalous.”
I inch closer, happy to be near him again.
He takes my hand. “I was thinking we could take a walk to the park and snap a few pictures of ourselves.”
“Well, we both do look pretty fine,” I quip.
He laughs. “Well, you certainly do.” He reaches for his unruly lock of hair. “I don’t know about myself.”
I really don’t think the man realizes how gorgeous he is. “You always look amazing, Weston.”
He brings a hand to his temple. “I’m going grey. I hate it.”
It’s barely noticeable, but yes, I had noticed. “It’s incredibly sexy. Very distinguished.”
“Mr. Silver Fox and Miss Blueberry hair.”
I grab a lock of my blue tipped hair. “Yep, that’s us.”
“So what do you say?”
I glance over at his desk, covered with papers. “Aren’t you too busy?”
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. “I’m never too busy for my little grasshopper.”
I smile. “Hey, I wanted to run something by you. I’m thinking of going green with my hair, then I’d really be your little grasshopper.”
He laughs. “Well, that would certainly be different. You’d certainly fit in on Saint Patrick’s Day.”
“It was just a thought.”
“I like the blue,” he tells me. “I like you just the way you are.”
* * *
We’re at the park,surrounded by small children and bored nannies. I’m quite familiar with this park. I bring Ethan here all the time. I feel kind of silly swinging on one of the swings, but Weston insists. He wants to take a photo of me in action. Of course, I get him to swing too. “This goes both ways,” I point out.
I sit on the elephant. He hangs from the monkey bars. I sit at the bottom of the slide. Snap. Snap. Snap.
We also take selfies of the both of us smiling for the camera. We are definitely not inconspicuous. Everyone is staring at us. And we couldn’t care less.
