Page 101

I can't deny it. Despite the Carmichael integration stress, despite Dad still barely speaking to me, I feel... buoyant. Like I'm floating an inch above the ground at all times.
“Fine,” I admit, setting down my glass. “I'm happy. Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Serena says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “So tell us everything. We haven't gone out drinking for weeks. Something's up.”
The word sits on my tongue like a loaded weapon. Love. When did that happen? When did wanting him become needing him become this terrifying certainty that he's rewired my entire emotional operating system?
I hesitate, finger tracing the condensation on my glass. I haven't told them about Bennett's closet gesture, about his invitation to move in gradually. It's been three days, and I've been processing it myself.
“He cleared out half his closet for me,” I finally say.
Both of them freeze, drinks halfway to their mouths.
“Actually, it was more than that. Custom built-ins. Designer clothes in my size. Twenty-four pairs of shoes.” I take a shaky breath. “He even converted half his library into an art studio.”
“Holy shit,” Serena whispers.
“He asked you to move in?” Audrey cuts straight to the point, her engineering mind bypassing all the romantic fluff.
“Sort of. Gradually. Starting with clothes and... seeing where it goes.”
“After five weeks?” Serena's eyebrows nearly reach her hairline. “That's either romantic or psychotic.”
“I know it sounds fast.” I run a finger around the rim of my glass. “But it doesn't feel fast when I'm with him. It feels... inevitable, somehow.”
“And what did you say?” Audrey asks.
“I said yes.” The admission makes my chest tight. “I'm keeping my apartment for now, but I've already brought over more things. My favorite books. A few framed photos. It feels right.”
Serena studies me for a long moment. “You're falling in love with him.”
It's not a question. My silence confirms everything.
“Have you told him?” she presses.
“God, no.” I take a larger gulp of my drink. “It's too soon. Too complicated.”
“Because of work?” Audrey asks.
“That. And because I'm not sure he's... there yet.” I fiddle with my napkin. “He's not exactly the type to lead with emotion.”
Serena snorts. “Understatement of the century. The man probably schedules his feelings in thirty-minute increments.”
“He's different with me,” I say defensively. “When we're alone, he's... softer. More open.”
“I'll believe it when I see it,” Serena says, but her tone gentles. “Just be careful, Lay. Corporate sharks don't suddenly grow hearts.”
“Speaking of seeing it,” Audrey says, glancing toward the entrance, “you might get your chance.”
I follow her gaze, and my heart slams against my ribs.
Bennett strides through the entrance, his charcoal suit somehow still crisp after what I know was a brutal fourteen-hour day. His gaze sweeps the room with typical efficiency until it lands on me, and those steel-blue eyes soften in a way that makes my chest tight. That slow smile spreads across his face—the one that's mine alone.
Heat unfurls low in my belly, and I have to grip my glass tighter to stop my hands from trembling.
But he's not alone. Caleb Kingsley follows close behind, equally polished but wearing his usual expression of mild irritation with the world.
“Did you know they were coming?” Serena hisses as the men navigate through the crowded bar toward us.