became even quieter. “Are you worried about his anger personally or professionally?”
“Some of both,” I admitted. “I like my job a lot. I’m good at it, and I like working for your dad.”
“More than you like me?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you embarrassed by our relationship? Are you ashamed of me?”
“No! It’s nothing like that.”
“Yet we still hide.”
“Laura…”
“You were going to leave when you thought we couldn’t be together. What about now? Would you leave so we could be? Or didn’t you mean it?”
“At the time, I guess I did, yes. I didn’t want to leave, but I thought it might be for the best.”
“But not now? Even if it meant we could be together—out in the open?”
“What about you? You said the same thing,” I challenged. “You thought it was important I stay working with your dad. Or doesn’t that matter anymore?”
She stood, suddenly very angry. “Is that what you want? For me to give up my job?”
I stood as well, tense. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
And then, we were arguing. Angry words, accusations, and denials flew between us. All over a situation neither of us had a solution to, brought up at the wrong moment, when we were anxious, unsure of the future, and weary of hiding our feelings. What I should have done was take her in my arms and tell her we’d talk to her father. Face it together. If he was furious and completely against us, I would walk away from a job I liked—because I loved her, and she trumped everything.
Instead, we continued to argue until she was furious enough to storm into the washroom with her clothes and leave. And I was angry enough to let her go.
The slam of the door behind her echoed in the house, and in my heart, for hours.
Sunday, I was miserable. I woke up alone and exhausted, having tossed and turned all night, our argument on repeat in my head, my bed too big and empty without her. I kept picking up my phone to call her, but I didn’t want this conversation to happen via airwaves. I wanted to see her face-to-face, but going to her place was risky. She always came here, since I lived across town from Hank. Her place was two blocks away from him, making the chance of him seeing my truck far too high. I paced the house, frustrated and angry, eventually saying fuck it and getting in my truck, determined to make this right.
But when I slowed down by her driveway, I saw not only her car parked there, but her father’s company truck behind it. Cursing, I drove away, and I spent the afternoon doing errands and drive-bys, but Hank’s truck remained a silent sentinel. Giving up, I went home and sent her a simple text.
Jackson: I’m an ass. Call me when the coast is clear so I can apologize properly. I love you.
I waited in vain—the phone never rang, and the message remained unanswered.
Monday morning, I was sullen, tired, and desperate to see her. Glancing at my schedule, I bit back a curse, realizing we had a staff meeting, directly followed by a meeting with a new client. I had met him once and disliked him immediately. I thought he was a pompous ass and hoped we wouldn’t see him again, but as luck would have it, he’d scheduled another sit-down.
Laura would be attending both meetings—and unless I managed to get to her before they started, we’d still be on unfriendly terms when they began, and I didn’t want that.
At the office, her door was closed and her car not in her spot. Hank was there, on the phone, and I waved as I went by. In my office, I sorted through some notes and listened attentively as the office became busier. When I finally heard Laura’s voice calling out greetings, I relaxed and, after a few minutes, stood, a file in hand, preparing to go and talk to her. At my doorway, I paused as she came into view. My hand grasped the edge of the doorframe as I swallowed hard.
She didn’t.
To everyone else, she looked normal. To me, she was fucking sin.
A silky wrap dress in a deep blue hugged her curves and ended just above her knees. The bow resting on her hip begged for my teeth to grasp it and pull it open. She was wearing high heels for a change, which made her legs seem long and endless—I wanted them wrapped around my hips,