“Is she the reason you ended things with me?” I immediately open my mouth to respond, but she holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m not jealous or anything. I know that breaking up was the right thing for us. I promise, that’s not why I’m asking.”
“No, I get it.” I scratch the back of my neck. “I didn’t break up with you so that I could date Gretchen, but…I think seeing her again made me see us”—I motion a hand between us—“more clearly.”
A crease forms between her brows and I wish I had the right words to make it disappear. “God, I’m getting this all wrong. I’m?—”
“No,” she interrupts. “We want each other to be happy, right?”
“That’s all I want for you.”
“That’s what I want for you, too,” she says. “And you are?”
I stick my hands in my pockets and cock my head. “I am. Are you?”
“I am.”
No animosity. No grudges. Both of us content to move on, we share a smile before a coworker pops her head in. “Lauren, your lunch date is here?”
She thanks her and moves toward the door.
“Lauren?” She turns. “I hate to ask, but could you not mention anything to Drew or Reagan? With everything that’s happening, I just…I’m trying to find the right time to tell him.”
“Of course. What are friends for?”
She’s halfway out the doorway when I call out again. “What’s his name?” She whirls back with a questioning look. “Your new guy. What’s his name?”
“Oh, it’s Kyle.”
“Tell Kyle I think he’s a very lucky guy.”
My meetingwith my boss was my last appointment of the day. As it turns out, I was worried over nothing. On the contrary, he offered me a team lead position on a large political campaign project.
The whole trip home from the office is spent weighing the pros and cons of accepting it. Four months of late nights and weekends. But to have such a significant project on my resume could be a game-changer for whatever comes next for me.
I’ve never been a bigwhat’s nextkind of guy—wasn’t ever sure I’d become one either. But with Gretchen, if mynextdoesn’t align with hers, I’m not interested.
When I step inside my apartment, my senses go on overload—the look, the sound, the smell, the feel of coming home to your person.
Music blares from the living room speakers while dinner sizzles in a pan in the kitchen. I softly close the door behind me, drop my things on the entryway table, and peek around the corner to find Gretchen, dressed in tiny shorts and one of my t-shirts hanging off one shoulder revealing a black lace bra strap underneath. A single braid wraps to one side and her legs are bare from her upper thigh all the way down to her toes. She hovers over the stovetop, working a spatula with one hand while the other shifts her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
There’s no big karaoke performance or wild dance moves, but she’s perfectly her in the way she hums the song under her breath, rocking back and forth on her feet. Effortlessly, she consumes my space, like it was hers to begin with. I can’t make myself look away.
Still unaware of my presence, I sneak up behind her. I pinch both sides of her waist and she jumps with a yelp.
“Holy jeez! Connor!” She presses a palm to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Honey, I’m home,” I laugh as I haul her toward me, her back to my front, and rest my chin on her shoulder. “What are you making?”
“Fajitas.”
“They smell delicious.” I kiss her exposed shoulder. “I see you chose my clothes after all.”
Setting the spatula aside, she reaches for the stereo remote and turns the volume down. She spins in place and loops her arms around my neck. “I’m doing our laundry because I had no clothes left. I hope you don’t mind.” She flutters her lashes.
“You can have them all. They look better on you anyway.” She steps out of my hold to grab plates from the cabinet. “What did you do today?”
“I used your emergency key to Drew’s to go over there and clean up. Stocked their fridge with a few things. Mom and Dad visited them at the hospital this morning and now they’re at their hotel sleeping off the jet lag.” She collects two forks from a drawer before pushing it shut with her hip. “I FaceTimed with Cheyenne, Miguel and the kids.”
“How weird is that for you to say out loud?” I ask as she sets the plates and forks down on the counter.
