Page 93 of This is a Kissing Book

“This is …” I gesture vaguely at the opulence surrounding us.

“Acceptable?” Linc supplies, loosening his tie. Even disheveled from travel with stubble filling in his jaw, he looks like he stepped out of a photo shoot.

“I was going to say extravagant.” I fidget with the silky tassel of an upholstered armchair pillow. “My entire apartment could fit in this bathroom.”

Linc pauses in the doorway to his room and his brow creases with sudden awareness. “Jules, I don’t know what to say. I’m not trying to show off. I have the resources available and⁠—”

“I’m not used to it. I feel like I owe you.” My tongue feels clumsy when I speak.

“That’s not how this works. I’m dragging you along on this adventure, so I’m footing the bill. If you were searching for something your mother wanted to find, you’d lead the charge.” He shrugs, almost apologetic.

“I’m here willingly,” I say with a light laugh.

The corner of his mouth tips with a grin. “Good. Get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll figure out our next move.”

I nod, suddenly too tired to process the weight of everything that’s happened. “Good night, Linc.”

“Good night, Buttercup.”

His pinky links with mine and he squeezes.

Still dressed, I drop immediately into sleep, though my dreams are chaotic—images of Civil War battlefields where every soldier has my face, alternating between the polished version from the spa and my usual self in leggings and an oversized hoodie. Past Jules fights Future Jules in an endless loop of identity crisis confusion.

I wake to creamy sunlight streaming through windows with gauzy curtains and the distant sounds of the city waking up below. My phone shows it’s nearly ten—later than I’ve slept in months. The exhaustion of the last few days must have finally caught up with me.

A soft knock interrupts my mental inventory of everything that’s happened. “Jules? Room service will be here soon if you’re ready for breakfast,” Linc calls.

As if caught with my pants down, I launch myself out of bed and into the bathroom. After taking a hot shower, I wrap a towel around my head, don a soft, cozy robe I find on a hook behind the door, and check my phone.

I almost forgot to submit my monthly payment to my father’s debtors. My stomach clenches as it always does, the moment I make the transfer. I remind myself that someday I will be free of this burden. Someday, I won’t owe them any more money. I just hope that they never increase the interest owed.

I pad out to the living area where Linc is already dressed casually in jeans and a pullover, looking refreshed and relaxed. The breakfast includes herbed scrambled eggs, hash browns with cheese, and maple bacon, cinnamon apple coffee cake with streusel topping, waffles with blueberry compote and lemon ricotta cream, as well as a variety of pastries with fruit.

“Did you order the entire brunch menu?” I ask, stomach suddenly rumbling.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked besides doughnuts.” He hands me a steaming mug of coffee with cream. “So I ordered everything.”

Linc opens his mouth as if about to say more. I lean closer, anticipating a bombshell. He closes his mouth, then opens it like a guppy.

“Unless you’d like me, your assistant, to prepare a PowerPoint for your presentation, you’ll have to share,” I tease.

The corner of his lip curls and he lets out a breath. “I’ve been thinking … it’s like I’ve been on a waitlist for my whole life, leading up to the year before turning thirty.”

“Because of Meridian?”

“My father appointed Drecken as acting, provisional Chief Operating Officer because he’s holding out for me.”

“I take it that’s not the future you see for yourself.”

He bunches up his shoulders and then drops them. “My life has been one giant hourglass of expectations and pressure as I near thirty and prepare to step into my father’s shoes, taking on more responsibility before taking over the company entirely. That’s not the future I want. Not the one I see for myself.”

“Some fathers have high expectations for their kids. Some have none.”

I’m glad Linc can’t read my mind because I’m not proud of the little detour I took from college, which led me to make some questionable decisions to help my father out when he got sick. He was on a job, needed help finishing it. I learned the ropes real quick. The kinds of things not taught in an academic setting. We didn’t net enough. The collectors came a-calling.

I’m still on the hook for the money he owed.

Linc nods and adds, “What I’m saying is I want to call a truce between us. Maybe after all this, we can trust each other.”