And just like that, the easy atmosphere fractures. "I thought we agreed to keep business and... this... separate."
"We did. But we're bound to run into each other. People already saw us together in Vegas. They'll talk if we're suddenly living at the same address."
I doubt anyone will even care what we do, and she’s so hung up on that shit. "How would they even know? And if they did, who cares?"
She scoffs.
“What? It's nobody's business but ours what we do."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one people will assume slept her way into—" She cuts herself off, flushing.
"Into what?" I ask as something hot and uncomfortable twists into knots in my gut. "What exactly do you think people will assume, Wren?"
"You know how this industry works. A woman sleeps with someone, she must be trying to gain some advantage. Meanwhile, the guy gets high-fives and attaboys."
"That's bullshit." My voice comes out harder than I mean for it to. "Anyone who knows you knows you've built Cascade on skill and hard work. No one's going to think?—"
"Of course they will!" She pushes away from the table, irritated now. She can join the fucking club. "Do you have any idea how hard I've had to work to be taken seriously? How many times I've been patted on the head and told to leave the real decisions to the men?"
Something in her expression sets my blood on fire and not in the good way. "I never did that to you."
"No." She deflates slightly. "You didn't. You've been a pain in my ass for other reasons."
"I've always respected you professionally," I say as I try to let my anger go and relax. "Even when I wanted to strangle you after what you did with the airport."
A small smile flickers across her face. "That was a good day. Your face when you found out..."
"Don't push it."
She runs a hand through her pink hair. "Sorry. Old habits."
"Look, I get it. The industry's not always fair to women. But anyone who matters knows what you've built with Cascade. They're not going to think less of you because of..." I hesitate, not sure how to categorize what's happening between us.
"Because I got drunk-married and knocked up by some random asshole?"
“Hey.” I scowl at her, but put like that, it does sound pretty bad. "We'll figure it out. Keep it private as long as possible. And when people do find out, we’ll handle it."
"We’llhandle it," she repeats, eyebrows raised. "That's a big shift from our usual dynamic."
"Yeah, well, things change." I gesture toward her stomach. "We've got more important things to think about now."
She goes quiet, her expression thoughtful. "You're really all in on this, aren't you? The baby, I mean."
"Of course I am." I meet her eyes, letting her see exactly how sure I am. I don’t think she’s ready to see that I don’t just mean the baby. "I don't half-ass important things, Wren."
Something flickers in her gray eyes, like she’s surprised I told the truth. Or maybe it’s that I’m not being a complete dick. "Good to know."
The moment stretches between us, charged with things neither of us is ready to deal with. I'm the first to look away, clearing my throat. "Ice cream? I got a few options. Not sure what you're into."
She perks up. "You have ice cream? What kind?"
"Mint chip, cookie dough, and vanilla." I shrug like it's no big deal that I stocked my freezer for her. "Figured pregnancy cravings might hit, and I wanted to be prepared."
"Mint chip sounds amazing right now." Her eyes light up in a way I've never seen. I’ve made this woman come. Repeatedly. And that had nothing on this. Shit, she might give me a complex. "How’d you know?"
"Lucky guess." I try to play it cool, but the smile spreading across her face is lighting me up inside.
"Well, your lucky guess just earned you major points, Beanie Boy."
