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“Did you really think I wouldn’t be there in the morning if we had?” he asks quietly.
I feel my cheeks flush a deep crimson as shame flushes through me. “I don’t know.”
“I’m not that kind of man, Lila.”
The way he says my name sends another thrill down my spine, stealing my breath with it.
And somehow, deep down, I know he’s telling the truth.
But now he’s said it – the thought of waking up beside him is all I can think about.
Chapter 18
Lila
Idecide not to tell Angela, Carter or anyone else about the lunch or the upcoming date. It feels like a little secret, a delicious anticipation I enjoy savouring all on my own. I’ll tell her about it next week, if it all goes well.Ifbeing the key word. There’s still time for him to cancel, or come down with food poisoning, or be abducted by aliens or – most likely – for the universe to shake me by the shoulders and remind me that this can’t possibly be real.
We didn’t even discuss a time or place. Just ‘Friday.’ Vague enough that he could easily ghost me and claim something came up.
Nevertheless, I spend the rest of Monday afternoon floating on a cloud, making an excuse to leave work a little early so that I can go shopping. I walk out of at least ten shops, starting to feel disgruntled, before I spot the perfect dress in the window of a small (but very expensive!) fashion boutique. I swipe my credit card at the till, deciding that’s a problem for future me.
On Tuesday, Marcus comes down to the fourth floor to ask Angela, Carter and me to come up with some content ideas for a new campaign he’s working on. From the second I spot him stepping out of the lift, my lungs forget how to work and my vision tunnels in on him. I makea particular point of ignoring Angela’s not-so-subtle smirk as her gaze bounces back and forth between us.
He doesn’t say anything directly to me, but he does look at me with that disarming smile for a moment too long before walking away, and just like that, I forget every word he’d just said.
On Wednesday, he’s in the queue in the coffee shop when I arrive. We exchange a smile and a quiet, “Morning, you alright?” And then silence. We ride the lift together, standing so close our hands almost touch, and when the lift stops at my floor, he gives me a soft smile and says, “See you later.”
It’s simple, casual, but promising, right? Yet it feels more distant than I would have hoped, like all the times we’ve taken the lift together before. I try not to let the disappointment sink its claws in too deep.He’s probably just tired. Or busy.
Or maybe this whole thing was just a figment of my imagination.
Oh well. At least I can get my money back for the dress.
Then Thursday morning brings the worst of the UK’s wintry weather, my hopes having well and truly blown away with the billowing snow. I stop for coffee again, lingering near the back of the queue and allowing others to go ahead of me while I enjoy the warmth of the fan heater. Nearly ten minutes later, there’s no one left behind me, so I order my usual caramel latte and am just picking it up from the counter when the bell above the door dings, and my heartleapsat the sight of him.
Snow dusts the shoulders of his coat, and the creases in his eyes as he squints from the blustery wind make him look somehow even more handsome, as if that’s possible.
When he spots me, his whole face lights up with a smile.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says, pulling me into a quick one-armed hug, his cheek brushing mine. A mischievous look in his eye makes me forget all about the snow outside, turning my insides into molten lava.
“Morning,” I reply, aiming for casual and nearly succeeding.
“We still good for tomorrow?” he asks.
I nod, my heart soaring at the confirmation of the date, and smile as casually as I can manage. “Yea, absolutely.”
“Great. Alright if I pick you up at seven?”
My brain short-circuits at the thought of him standing at my front door. “Yea, seven is good. Do you need my address?”
“Nope. I remember it.” He winks and turns to order his usual black Americano like it’s no big deal. Like my insides haven’t just liquefied into goo.
How does he do this to me?
Finally, Friday rolls around. I’m trying to act as normal as possible but Angela definitely knows something is up because she keeps asking if I’m okay. When I turn down an invitation to join her and Carter for after-work drinks, her concern intensifies.
“You sure you feelin’ okay, babe?”