“For two busy people,” Sophia says, “we’re surprisingly adept at rearranging our schedules.”
I run my hand over her naked back. Up and down, fingers tracing the smooth skin. “Yeah. I’m impressed.”
“Me, too,” she says and turns her head. Brown hair spreads out on the pillow behind her. “I was particularly impressed by you rescheduling meetings yesterday just so we could play tennis over lunch.”
“It’s important to get your cardio in.”
“Oh, it’s vital,” she says, her eyes glittering. “Even if I think we’re pretty good at prioritizing cardio already.”
She’s glorious, stretched out beside me on her bed, clad only in the sunshine streaming in through the window and a sheet twisted around her legs. I smile. “You certainly did earlier.”
The image of her on top of me, her body moving, is one I’ll carry with me to my dying day.
She chuckles. “I had to work off some steam.”
“Well, I’m always available,” I say. My hand switches direction, changing the patterns I paint across her bare skin. It’s been two weeks since the pitch meeting, and over a week since my executive team unanimously recommended we go ahead with the modern pitch.
They’re all in favor of hiring Exciteur to execute that vision, too. It’ll be a long project. At least a year long, most likely, before our in-house team can take over. Outsourcing the time-consuming start-up phase is a better call for the business. My team knows it.
I know it.
And still, I’m the only person left who hasn’t officially signed off on the plan yet. And I’m doing it to keep this.
To keep her.
But it’s only a matter of time, and it’s better to rip off the bandage. “Sweetheart,” I murmur. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“I can’t stall making a decision about your pitch forever.”
Her smile widens. “I knew that was what you were doing!”
“Of course, you did.”
“My team is very anxious about this, you know.”
“Are they?”
“Terribly. You’ve taken weeks!”
I sweep my hand sideways, over the curve of her hip. “Well, theoretically speaking, we might hire Exciteur.”
“Theoretically?”
“Yes.”
She starts to smile. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too. But that doesn’t have to be the end of this, you know. I’ve been thinking about us.”
“You have?”
“Yes,” I say. You haven’t? It’s been at the forefront of my mind these past weeks as I’ve turned over solution after solution. I can’t jeopardize her career, and I can’t ask her to make any decision that might cost her down the line.
I want to add to her life, never detract.
“I’ll appoint Andrew as head of the project on the Winter’s end. Once the decision is made and the papers have been signed, he’ll be Exciteur’s main point of contact throughout this.”
“You’re removing yourself?” There’s a faint furrow between her brows.
“Yes. I’ll still be briefed, of course, and give my input. But all communication would pass through Andrew.”
“So, you and I wouldn’t have any contact about work.”
“No,” I say. “Not through any official channels, anyway.”
She frowns. It’s the frown of someone deep in thought, and not someone displeased. “You know, when the project is in an operational phase, it will likely be handled by other people at Exciteur. We’ll be a much bigger team, and I might not run point by then.”
“I figured.”
“I could always… excuse myself, too.”
“I don’t want you to,” I say, “unless you want to for other reasons. I trust you and your vision for the hotels.”
Her frown softens into a smile. “I would really like to see it through.”
“Then you should.”
“But we’d still be working together, technically, even if we don’t interact professionally.”
I sigh. It’s true, and I have no solution for that. I can’t resign my position. I am the position. “Yes. I don’t know how to change that.”
She cocks her head. “It might still work.”
“It might,” I agree. “We could write up a contingency plan, just in case. I promise I’ll always be able to separate the two. You could kick me out of your apartment today, and I’d still want to hire your team for the new hotels.”
“A contingency plan sounds good,” she says. “And then we just… agree to take it day by day?”
”Yes,” I say. “Day by day.”
A smile blossoms on her lips. “I think it might be worth the risk.”
“Good,” I say, “because I’m convinced it is.”
She kisses me. It’s a soft, warm brush of her lips against mine. “Good,” she murmurs, “because I like the hassle of rearranging my schedule to fit more of you into my life.”
“Mmm. I agree.”
“So, you’re going modern, then?”
“Yes. You finally wore me down.”
She laughs. “I’ve been told more than once by my family that I’m pretty persistent, you know, when I’m sure I’m right.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” I say. “Has to be someone else.”
She laughs again. “I’m sorry I was badgering you about it so much.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
She looks at me for a long moment. I look back, brushing the back of my hand over her skin. The ends of her hair tickle my palm. “So, we’ll keep doing this,” she says.
“Yes,” I say, just as quietly. “Although we might need to schedule it out further in advance.”
“Yes please. What does your week look like?”
“I’m in Boston Wednesday through Friday on business,” I say, “and I have a wedding to attend on Sunday.”
“Oh, congrats.”
“Thanks,” I say, snorting. “I can’t wait to agonize through hours of small talk. How about you?”
She reaches past me for her phone. “Let me see…”
Fifteen minutes later and we have coordinated schedules for the coming three weeks. Satisfaction spreads through my chest, along with the knowledge that I will be able to see her several times a week for the foreseeable future.
Sophia’s a wonderful thing to have in your calendar.
I put my phone away. “I should have dated a planner a long time ago,” I say.
“Oh?” she says, propping her head up on her hand. “Is that what we’re doing now?”
“No,” I say, raising an eyebrow, “of course not, because you’ll only date math teachers.”
She purses her lips. “That’s right. But let me try something…” Twisting around, she reaches toward her nightstand and rummages around for a bit before returning with a notepad and pen.
“What are you doing?”
“Wait a minute,” she says and turns onto her stomach. I watch as she scribbles.
Finally, I’m handed the notepad with a number of mathematical equations on it. “Try to solve these,” she says.
“Two plus two. Really?”
“There are harder ones. Keep going.”
I work my way down the list of equations. Eighty-five divided by five, and the square root of four. The last equation takes me almost a minute. She’s used non-divisible numbers, and when I write the answer, it includes a decimal point.
“There,” I say and hand it back to her.
She eyes it over. “A-plus. Congratulations, you could probably work as a math teacher!”
“That counts?”
“It counts,” she says and gives me a brilliant smile. “They’re my rules, so I’m allowed to bend them.”
“Well,” I say, and don’t know what to say after that. So she’s okay with dating me. Victory pulses through me, the feeling heady. I have to remind myself that she’d specified we take it day by day. Her tears in the bathroom after Percy’s announcement are hard to forget. They’d been gut-wrenching sobs, the sound of a woman heartbroken.
Day by day.
Sophia rolls closer and rests her head next to mine on the pillow. “We should get takeout again. I have nothing in the fridge.”
“That’s probably just as well.” I brush away a tendril of hair that’s fallen over her cheek. It’s silky smooth from her frequent blow-dries. I’d seen her hair air dry last weekend, the sleek curls turning into a beautiful wavy mess. It had been just as stunning, a softening feature to her fierceness. “My parents are having a party next week.”
“Another one?”
I smile wryly. “The one in August was my brother’s.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“They do this once a year, always in late September. I have to be there.”
“Mmm.”
“Come with me,” I say.
Her eyes shift from mine, down to my jaw. Her fingers trace along it.
“They won’t be there,” I say. “Asshole one and asshole two.”
Her lips tilt upward. “Can you make sure of that?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll go with you.”
“Thanks. It might be boring, but being somewhere with you is always better than somewhere without.”
Her eyes soften, and then she kisses me. I deepen it in return. It’s impossible not to with her this close. Maybe, I think, all she needs is time for her heart to heal. If I wait it out long enough, she’ll be ready.
