way it had to be.
After lunch, I settled back into my seat and pulled up the email I’d started to draft before running down for a sandwich.
“The other night, I went to this ice cream shop down the street from my hotel,” Julian began, pulling my attention from my computer.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Do you ever really crave ice cream?” he asked, a hint of a smile covering his lips.
What the hell is he talking about?
“Uh, sure, I guess.”
“Well, I really wanted some the other night, so I went down to this shop and stood in line. It took forever to get to the front to order. It almost felt like I’d been waiting there for weeks.”
I arched a brow. “Sounds like you should have just picked up some ice cream from 7-Eleven.”
He smiled. “I couldn’t. It had to be this ice cream.”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion but held my tongue.
“So anyway,” he continued, “I got to the front of the line and I asked to sample the flavor I’d been eyeing—y’know, just to get a little taste.”
“Mmm,” I hummed. “You’re going into way too much detail about ice cream.”
He ignored me.
“And after I’d had that tiny sample, I knew I wanted more. It tasted amazing, just like I’d known it would. So I asked for two perfectly round scoops in a waffle cone.”
“Okay. That’s the weirdest way I’ve ever heard someone describe—”
“But you know what happened right after I paid and walked out of the shop?”
“You realized you were being really weird about ice cream?” I joked.
He laughed. “No. I leaned in to take my first bite, tripped, and the entire ice cream cone fell to the ground. Can you believe that? Right before I really got to enjoy it.”
I stared at him, mouth in a thin line, annoyance building within me.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said.
“Has that ever happened to you before?” His gaze held mine as he teased me. “Have you ever been so close to getting something you’ve been craving, only to have it ripped right out from under you before you can really savor it?”
I stood up and carried my laptop toward the bathroom. “I asked you not to talk about it, Julian. Not during work. I have to take this job seriously. Do you?”
“Jo—”
“This job means everything to me. Can’t you see that?”
Before he could answer, I continued.
“I can’t blame you for being confused about my priorities. We’ve both crossed the line from the very beginning. I assumed I could have my cake and eat it too, but now that the choices are right in front of me, I know I have to choose my job over you. I can’t afford to be fired.”
The image of moving home and working at the town Dairy Queen was enough of a reality check to set me straight. No more fooling around.
He stood and held up his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I’ve got to run some errands anyway, so don’t stuff yourself in the bathroom. You can stay right where you are. I promise that when I get back I’ll be on my best behavior.”
He stepped closer and bent to find my eyes.
“Okay?” he asked.
I hated that I could smell his body wash. I hated that I had to tell him lies, when inside, deep down, I wanted to continue right where we’d left off on the boat.
Being an adult sucks.
I stayed right where I was as he walked out of the room, letting the door fall closed behind him with a heavy thud. When he was gone and I had the entire hotel room to myself, I finally felt like I could breathe again. I pulled up my work calendar and started hammering away at each item. From then on, I was going to impress Julian with my work ethic, not my bra size.
Julian was still out running errands when his hotel phone rang late in the afternoon. I’d attached his phone number to a few of the emails I’d sent out to architecture firms, so I didn’t hesitate to answer the phone. If they were already getting back to us, it was a good sign that they were in need of work.
“Hello, this is Josephine Keller,” I answered, poised with a pen, ready to take notes.
“Josephine?” a shrewd voice asked on the other end of the line. “Who are you? My son’s girlfriend?”
I nearly dropped the phone. The feminine voice was crystal clear and confident, with an air of aristocracy