A month later
“They’re going to open a new Salt,” Isaac says. He’s leaning against the headboard of my bed, propped up by two pillows, and has the New York Globe spread out on his lap. “One that focuses on brunch? Jesus.”
I put down my book. “You’re not a fan of brunch?”
“No, even if I understand that others are.”
“The Ivy’s Sunday brunches are legendary,” I say.
He gives me a crooked smile. “They are, aren’t they?”
“Definitely. So you can profit from it, but not enjoy it?”
Isaac reaches between us to run his hand over Milo’s striped back. My cat turns onto his side and stretches in pleasure, his paws kneading the cover.
“Yes,” he says. “That’s just good business. But it’s never appealed to me. It just takes up such a large chunk of the day. It’s not breakfast, but it’s not lunch, nor is it dinner. It throws off the entire schedule.”
“Maybe Sundays are for not having a schedule at all?”
He smiles and lets his warm gaze trace the length of my body. I’m wearing his button-down, thrown on to avoid giving my neighbors an eyeful when I’d made us coffee. “Well,” he says. “Not usually, but if they’re like this? I can get on board with that.”
I prop my head up on a pillow and watch him in return, bare-chested and tousled-haired and here, in my apartment. He’d flown in from LA late last night and came straight here from the airport. Our schedules aren’t the easiest to fit together, but we’ve managed. The past month has been one of the greatest of my life.
“I told Jenna and Toby on Friday,” I say.
He chuckles. “Do they think we’re the most indecisive people to ever date?”
“Probably,” I say. “But they’re happy for me, weirdly enough.”
“Weirdly?”
“Maybe it’s not weird, but it does feel new, having people so invested in your relationship.”
Isaac raises a dark eyebrow. “I know the feeling.”
“You’re getting comments from people, as well?”
“Yes, including some of my employees.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Andrew said he thought I seemed happier.”
“Oh my God.” I bury my head in the pillow. Andrew had been told a few days ago, and being my contact at Winter Corp, it’s weird to talk to him now, knowing that he knows about me… dating his boss.
Isaac laughs and shifts on the bed. Milo rises from his sprawl and gives us both the evil eye. He saunters down to the foot of the bed with his tail held high and jumps off, probably to find a spot less human-occupied.
“Uh-oh,” Isaac says.
“He’ll come around,” I say. “He loves chin scratches too much.”
Isaac slides his hand beneath my shirt, finding the curve of my bare hip. “You know, when I told Andrew, did you know what he said?”
“What?”
“That he wished me the best, and he wasn’t worried at all about it becoming a problem down the line. He said that if he could count on anything, it’s me putting the company first.”
I chuckle. “He knows his boss.”
“Yes. But my first thought was that the same thing is true about you.”
I run my hand through the thick, short strands of his hair. “Yeah, I think that’s one thing we’ll never have to worry about with one another.”
“One of many.” Isaac leans closer and presses his lips to mine. We kiss for a few long, sweet minutes, my hand running through his hair the whole time.
“Mmm,” he says. “I love it when you do that.”
I tighten my fingers at his nape. “This?”
“Yes.”
I kiss him again, adding my other hand to the mix. His hair feels silky through my fingers. “Look,” he murmurs, “how unprofessional we can be.”
I chuckle. “It’s one of our strengths.”
He pulls me on top of him. I settle with a leg on either side and let my hands run over the muscled chest and stomach. He starts undoing the buttons of my shirt, one by one, his eyes dark. “Okay, I’m definitely a fan of unscheduled Sundays.”
I look down at his broad hands pushing the white linen of the shirt aside, baring me to him. “I thought we had an appointment at noon.”
“We can be late,” he murmurs.
“Late? Who are you, and what have you done to my boyfriend?”
A crooked smile spreads across his face. “Boyfriend.”
“Isn’t that what you are now?”
“Yes,” he says, and pushes the shirt off my shoulders. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you. You know, I quite like how you look, too.”
“Thank heavens for that.” He pulls me down, and I stretch out on top of him, my bare chest against his. “I haven’t been someone’s boyfriend in a very long time.”
I chuckle. “Well, I haven’t had a boyfriend in a very long time, either. It does sound a bit…”
“High school?”
“We could go for ‘partner,’ I suppose.”
His hands slide down my back. “Whatever you want,” he says, “as long as I get to call you mine.”
I smile against his lips. “That part’s a given.”
***
The car pulls to a smooth stop outside a high-rise built in the square art deco style so popular a century ago. It’s on a tree-lined street just a few blocks away from the Winter Hotel.
There’s a woman waiting outside for us. She’s dressed in sharp heels, her hair in a low bun, and I recognize a fellow professional in her armor when I see one. It’s Isaac’s realtor. She shows us into the building, past the grand lobby and the smiling concierge.
“Don’t compare it to the Winter Hotel,” I whisper to Isaac.
He chuckles and reaches for my hand, threading our fingers together. “I can’t, or I’ll never move.”
The realtor opens the door for us to the empty apartment on the fifteenth floor. “Welcome to what might be your new home!” she says cheerfully.
Dark wood floors stretch out into a beautiful living room, alight with sunshine streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a staircase off the hallway leading up to a second floor.
“What do you think?” Isaac asks. “I want your input before I buy it.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” he says. “I trust your opinion.”
And I know he means it, that it’s genuine, that this isn’t pressure. He isn’t asking me to move in. He just wants to share his life decisions with me, the same way I want to with him.
To be partners.
“I love it,” I say. “It’s walking distance to the hotel for work, so that’s convenient.”
“Yeah, that was a must.”
“Is there space for a home office? I think you need that.”
There’s a smile in his voice. “Yes, there is.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“Four.”
“Good, good,” I murmur. “I think you should keep your dark blue couches and put them here. They’d fit right in. See, you could have one here, and the other over there. So you can read and still see the view. I think you’d like that. And so would I, you know, when I come to visit.”
He wraps his arms around me, hugging me against his front. Out of the corner of my eye I see the realtor step into another room. Smoothly giving us privacy. “Your mind works fast,” he says.
I nod. “This could be really good for you. I like this room, and this view. Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure you want to move out of the hotel? There’s no part of you that’s second-guessing?” I turn in his arms, wanting to meet his eyes.
“I’m sure,” he says. “I’ve lived for the company, and for the legacy, for most of my life. And it will never… Sophia, it will never stop being important to me.”
“I know,” I say. “I understand that.”
“It will always be part of my life. It will be what I work for, what I want to… well, regardless of who inherits the company, I want to leave it in the best possible shape.” Fierceness shines in his eyes, pride in his work, and the drive to do better. To be better.
I’m so in love with him, I think.
“But it can’t be the only thing I live for. It can’t be everything. And I think it’s time I had something outside of it that’s just mine rather than mine to steward for a time.”
“I think that’s a great insight.”
His mouth tips into a smile. “Besides, real estate is always a good investment.”
“Always,” I agree and give him a quick kiss. “Want to show me the rest of the place? I’m itching to see what’s at the top of those stairs.”
“Yes.” But he doesn’t move, hands still resting around my waist. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, but for what?”
“For being here. For being you.” His voice drops. “And for being brave enough to try again.”
My hands still against his chest. “Isaac…”
“Sweetheart, I love you. I have for weeks and likely long before then. I just hadn’t admitted it to myself yet.”
“Oh,” I breathe.
His hand brushes along my cheek. “I just had to let you know. It’s not pressure, and I’m not saying it expecting anything from you. But it’s all I could think about on the flight back home yesterday, and I knew I had to tell you.”
I lock my hands behind his neck. I feel warm, like I’ve been hit with a ray of sunshine. “And you only do things a hundred and ten percent.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “That’s right.”
“I love you, too,” I say. “I resisted it for a long time… and I was terrified when I first realized I’d fallen. But that didn’t make me love you any less. Thank you for being there while I figured it all out.”
“My pleasure,” he says and brushes his lips over mine. “And I always will be.”
