Niddhi looked up from her computer and smiled. “Hey, Sersh.”
I swirled the iced latte I’d picked up on the way back from the Davenport. “I feel like we haven’t caught up in forever. Are you doing anything fun this weekend?”
She lifted a shoulder, her eyes darting to the side. “I have a date with a guy I met on Hinge. It’s a second date, actually.”
Despite the piles of work waiting for me, I sat down in the chair beside Niddhi’s desk to get the scoop on this guy. Ever since Luca and I had started our lunch dates, I hadn’t been as in touch with my coworkers as I had in the beginning.
It didn’t help that there hadn’t been a happy hour for a few weeks. Every time I asked about them, Niddhi explained too many people hadn’t been able to make it, so they hadn’t been happening.
Disappointing but understandable.
I’d been asked to temp for another month, so hopefully, happy hours would start up again because I missed the combination of camaraderie mixed with alcohol.
After work, I settled in the den at home. With my laptop on my legs, I absently scrolled through Insta, and that was when I figured out what happened to happy hour.
I’d clicked from Niddhi’s account to Charlie’s, then Amelia’s.
My heart sputtered when I viewed Amelia’s story.
Happy hour hadn’t stopped.
I hadn’t been invited.
The proof was on my screen. Amelia, surrounded by most of my coworkers, all holding their glasses up and smiling. I could picture their waitress telling them to say “TGIF.” before snapping the picture.
I’d been stupid to think happy hours had simply stopped. Of course they were having them. They just didn’t want me there.
Tears welled in my eyes, which was ridiculous. They weren’t my friends. Only my temporary coworkers. But I couldn’t help my feelings being hurt. I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt so excluded.
“Good evening, pretty girl. I was able to break away early, and I thought we could grab dinn—” Luca broke off when I looked up at him, his brow immediately dropping. “Why are you crying?”
I swiped my eyes with the backs of my hands. “I’m not. It’s nothing.”
He sat down next to me, glaring at my computer as if he could find the source of my sadness and destroy it.
“It can’t be nothing if you’re crying. Tell me what it is, Saoirse.”
“Please, Luca. I’m overreacting over something silly.”
He took my hand in his. “Tell me anyway. I won’t think it’s silly.”
I sniffled and clicked on Amelia’s story again, turning the screen so Luca could see. “They had happy hour without me.”
His eyes darted over the picture, taking it in. “These are the people who work in your department?”
“Yeah. Niddhi said there hadn’t been a happy hour in a while, but she was sparing my feelings.” I sucked in a shuddering breath, hating myself for being so sad about this. “They don’t want me there.”
“What the fuck?” Luca seethed. “Who wouldn’t want you with them? Are they all idiots? I have idiots working for me?”
“No, I’m sure it’s because they want to unwind and talk about work, but they probably don’t feel comfortable doing that with me there since we’re married.” I swiped my eye again. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“It isn’t fine.” His jaw worked as he gritted his molars. Then, without another word, he strode from the room.
When he didn’t come back, I closed my laptop and went into the bathroom to wash my face and attempt to get ahold of my emotions. This really was silly. Not worth wasting tears over.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out, reading a message from Clara.
Clara: Please tell your husband he CANNOT ban all after-work fraternization.
Clara: Seriously, Saoirse. Stop him before he sends out this email. He’s begging for a lawsuit.
Me: What email?
Clara: Oh, thank god you’re by your phone. Luca just sent me a draft of an email he wants to send to the entire company, banning all fraternization outside work hours. He’s clearly lost the plot.
Me: He’s home. I’ll go talk to him. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.
Clara: Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with you?
Me: I think it might. But I’ve got it handled.
Clara: Tell him if he sends out that email, I’m firing him as uncle.
Me: I’ll let him know!! xx
I found Luca in his home office, boring holes into his computer monitor. Crossing the room, he watched me approach. When I rounded the desk, he pushed back, giving me room to slide onto his lap.
I hadn’t spent any time in this room, nor had I ever been in this position with him, but it was as natural as breathing, especially when his arms closed around me.
“What are you doing, Luca Rossi?”
His eyes searched mine. “Your feelings are hurt.”
“They are. But you can’t burn down your entire company to make up for it.”
His brows drew together in a hard line. “That’s where you’re wrong. I can and I will.”
I shook my head and stroked his tight jaw. “You can, but you won’t. Clara texted in a panic.”
He grunted, holding me tighter. “I did what she asked and sent her the draft of my email before sending it to the rest of the company. She repays me by going to my wife?”
“She thinks you’ve lost your mind.”
His huff of breath brushed my neck. “When I walked in and saw you crying, your little chin wobbling, I did feel like I was losing my mind. I need to fix it, Saoirse. I won’t let you be hurt.”
“You know you can’t send that email.” My fingers moved to his hair, carving lines through the side. “You’ve already made me feel better by giving a shit. Your irrationality soothes me.”
He made a grunting sound. “You like seeing me go crazy over your tears?”
“I like knowing you care.”
With a sigh, he tucked his head beneath my jaw, pressing a kiss on my throat. “I knew she wouldn’t let me send it.”
I snorted, already lighter in his arms. “Did it feel good to write it?”
“Nothing feels good when you’re sad. I fucking hate it.”
We held each other, and I slid my fingers through his hair. His breath was warm and slow on my skin, his fingers soft and rhythmic, trailing along my spine.
“I can’t work at Rossi anymore,” I whispered.
His hands stilled. “You can.”
“I think it’s obvious I can’t.”
“I want you in the same building as me.”
“We do live together. It isn’t as if I won’t see you.”
He raised his head, glaring at me the same way he’d glared at his monitor. I’d replaced it as his enemy, which made me want to laugh, but I held it in since I didn’t think he’d take kindly to it.
“I don’t want you working for someone else,” he stated.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to work for anyone else. I’m hoping my rich husband will keep me afloat so I can throw myself into starting my business. I’ve been delaying jumping in with both feet, but I think this is the push I needed. It’s time.”
“You don’t have to hope, Saoirse. Anything you need, I’ll give it to you. What about office space? I’ll clear out the office beside mine. You can have it.”
“In the Rossi building?” He nodded in all seriousness, which made me sputter a laugh. “Isn’t that Miller’s office?”
“Say the word, and he’s out.”
Laughing again, I patted his chest. “Poor Miller. I think Clara might object to you kicking her husband out of his office.”
“She’d get over it.”
“Luca,”—I dropped my forehead to his—“you’re being sweet. Crazy, yes, but very, very sweet.”
He squeezed my butt in response.
“I’m not going to work in the Rossi building.”
He sighed. “I know, and it pisses me off.”
“Maybe I’ll take over this office.”
He leaned back in his chair, eyeing me. “You can have it. I barely use it anyway. I like the idea of you working here.”
“With Miles.”
That made his lip curl. “I have to accept that?”
“You do. He’s my partner.”
“I’m your partner. Miles is your coworker.”
“Sure.” I brushed his hair from his forehead. “You’re really good at cheering me up, you know.”
“I’m not done. Go get changed. I’m taking you to dinner.”
I perked up. “Can we go on the bike?”
His lips curved as he looked at me with his bedroom eyes. “Anything you want, pretty girl.”
Why did I actually believe he meant that wholeheartedly?
