I swing my chair back to my computer. “Yes, Marley. I admit it; I’m in love with Tristan Miles.”
She falls into a seated position on my desk and stares at me for a while in disbelief.
“Well . . . holy fucking shit,” she says as she puts her hands on her hips. “I was not expecting that.”
“Me neither.”
“So . . . what?” She stares at me for a moment as she tries to process the new information. “I mean, I knew you had that week of lunch fucks.”
I smile at her analogy. “Sounds so romantic when you put it like that.”
“You know what I mean.” She smirks. “But what happened then? And more importantly, why the fuck haven’t you told me about any of this?”
“I was just waiting to see what happened, and I didn’t want to jinx it.”
“Jinx it?”
“Well, sometimes when you put something out there, it doesn’t turn out how you expect it to.”
“So . . . this is turning out?” She frowns in surprise.
“Oh, Marley,” I gush as I look at my beautiful flowers. “Tristan is just so . . .” I search for the right words. “Funny and sweet and understanding, and he sleeps on the couch at my house out of respect for my kids.”
She screws up her face in disbelief. “Tristan Miles?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tristan Miles, the arrogant, gorgeous playboy?” she repeats, as if not believing me.
I smile with a nod. “Yep, that’s him.”
She frowns at me. “I’m so confused. I thought he was a hot player who had excellent fucking capabilities.”
I laugh out loud. “He’s all of those things, but there’s more to him.” I read my card again.
I’M A VERY HAPPY MAN TODAY.
#TOBELOVEDBYYOU
TRIS
XOX
“To be loved by you.” I hold the card to my chest.
And he is.
Marley smiles as she watches me, and finally she says, “I love seeing you like this.”
“Like what, all dreamy and starry eyed like a schoolgirl?”
“Happy.”
I smile softly. “Thanks. I really am.” I put the card carefully back into its envelope. I’ll keep it in a safe place with the other card from the last lot of roses he gave me.
Everything from Tristan is special.
“I’m meeting his family on Saturday night at a black-tie dinner,” I say.
“Oh jeez.” Her eyes widen. “What are you wearing?”
“No idea. This is my worst nightmare.”
“What do you have in your wardrobe?”
“Nothing. I haven’t bought an evening dress in years. What the hell do you even wear to a black-tie dinner these days?”
“We’ll go shopping. Don’t worry; we’ll find you something. You have to look amazing.”
“I know.” Nerves flutter in my stomach as I imagine meeting his parents and older brother, Jameson. I know their opinions are important to Tris. “I want to look understated sexy, not like mutton dressed up as lamb. Something age appropriate but not motherly.”
“Definitely,” Marley says as she thinks. “I’m going to google this.”
“Dress sense doesn’t come up on Google, Marley.”
“No, but stylists do.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“I can’t afford a stylist.”
“What you can’t afford is to look like a bag of shit. This is his announcement to the world that you and he are together. It’s an important event, and everyone is going to be looking at you. Don’t worry; we’ll give her a strict budget to work with.”
I stare at her as I process her advice. “Do you think? Isn’t getting a stylist a bit over the top?”
“Claire, everyone in that ballroom is going to use a stylist, and besides, this is New York. Nothing is over the top. I got this. Leave it to me.”
I pull onto my street and see the black Aston Martin parked in my driveway, and I bite my lip to stifle my smile.
He beat me home.
Tristan Miles is at my house . . . with my kids.
Wonders never cease.
I give a subtle shake of my head in disbelief as I go over the last few months. What a whirlwind.
I’ve gone from hating him to tolerating him to sleeping with him to loving him.
I pull into the driveway and park my car alongside his . . . and I do love him.
Regardless of what happens in the future, I love Tristan. I can happily admit it now.
I walk in through the front door to the sound of oohs and aahs.
“Oh my God, Mom. Look at this,” Harry cries in excitement.