Aaron barks with laughter. “Because, like me, you have no one. I figured the two of us bachelors could close the best restaurant in Singapore with the most expensive bottle they have before we leave tonight.”
I slowly drop the pen I’d been holding to sign off on the Millspace proposal. “That’s … utterly sad.”
“It is what it is, my friend.” Aaron makes himself comfortable on one of the wingback chairs. “Hey, we have each other.”
I’m not sure how to respond. Aaron’s good-natured about it, but isn’t it entirely upsetting that we don’t have anyone to be cozy with after closing a major deal? It makes me miss my mother something fierce. I could always rely on her to call me, regardless of where I was. She’d bring home to me just by hearing her voice.
I sit across from Aaron with a heavy sigh, my giant eyesore of a desk between us, my gaze unfocused for the first time since stepping on a plane out of Falcon Haven.
“Don’t look so depressed about my company. You might just wound me permanently,” Aaron says.
I rise to join him with a bourbon until we’re interrupted by an, “Excuse me, Mr. Williams?”
An assistant creeps through the doorway holding a paper-wrapped package.
“Yes?”
“A delivery man brought this to the gate. We checked it out. It looks harmless, but I don’t recommend you eat it.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just ask Mr. Williams toeata package?” Aaron clarifies.
I send Aaron a warning look. He loves messing with anyone stupid enough to engage with him.
“My sincerest thanks.” I take the box from the confused security guard, though I’m equally perplexed.
“Did somebody send you food? Oh, wait.” Aaron’s expression clears. He leans forward, shadowing the desk. “What’s the return address?”
I slide it from under his busybody gaze. “Get back to soothing your emotions with alcohol.”
“I’ll be paying for this later,” he mutters. “But dammit, it’s delicious.”
Aaron resumes his seat, sipping his drink but keeping his attention on me.
“Open it,” he says.
“What if I want to do it in private?”
Aaron scoffs. “I’m your firewall. Do it.”
He’s not wrong. I unwrap the package and have to put aside some ice packs before getting to the small white carton in the middle.
“Hmm, the suspense continues,” Aaron says.
A simple white card is nestled underneath it. Eagerness crawls into my throat until I stanch it.
It can’t be from her, but it has to be. Who else would send me perishable goods?
Aaron solves that problem for me. “I had your assistants intercept a dozen cupcakes the other day. And cookies the day before that. All from hopeful clients hoping to make you fall in love with them through your stomach.”
“Right.” Despite my best efforts, my voice clogs with disappointment.
I made it clear to Noa that we were going our separate ways, and I can convince myself up and down that I did the right thing … yet that damned eternal flame won’t snuff out.
“You’d be surprised how many send you edible delights,” Aaron continues. I send him a wry,you’ve made your pointlook,which he ignores. “One time, a startup company sent you THC candies. I took those. For your protection, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Aaron closes his mouth, studying me. “What’s with the long face? We’ve done this at least six times, you and me, getting through the evenings like it’s any other.”
