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The woman arches a brow and scrutinizes me. “Do you have some identification?”
I unclip the security pass I’m still wearing on the waistband of my skirt and hold it up. It has my photo and lists my position as Roman’s assistant on it.
She picks up a phone and, after tapping a few buttons, speaks into it. Once she hangs up, she nods in the direction of a door on the far wall. “There’s a private family waiting room through there.”
“Thank you.” With a grateful smile, I turn and head toward the door. On the other side is a short corridor, and at the far end, a set of double glass doors with a sign printed above indicating it’s the waiting room.
For the first time since I stepped out of the car, nerves tangle in my stomach. Roman is waiting beyond those doors, but so is the rest of his family. Suddenly, I’m second-guessing the idea of barging in on them at a time like this. My hesitation melts away quickly, though, knowing Roman will want his phone. He’ll go crazy sitting still for hours if he can’t work.
I push through the doors and step into a large room. The floor is covered in luxurious carpet, and the couches and chairs are all plush and inviting. Beautiful paintings in calming blues and greens adorn the walls, and at one end, there’s a coffee machine and a bar fridge. This isn’t like any hospital waiting room I’ve ever been in before. Then again, I’m not a billionaire.
“Chloe.” Roman’s deep voice comes from the corner of the room.
I turn and find him standing with Tate and a pretty woman with light brown hair. On one of the couches nearby, an elegant, older blond woman sits, her expression impossible to read.
As nerves crawl up my throat, I take a breath and steady myself. Then, I walk over to them, plastering on the most professional smile I can manage.
Roman’s expression is enigmatic as he watches me. Does he resent me intruding on him and his family, or is he only surprised to see me?
“You forgot your phone, Mr. King.” I hold the device out to him. He’s told me more than once tonight to call him by his firstname, but it feels wrong in this setting. As if I’m claiming an intimacy I don’t have any right to.
He takes it from me, his fingers ghosting over mine. “Thank you, Miss Callahan.” It seems like he has the same thought as me.
“Chloe, right?”
The woman standing next to Tate gives me a warm smile. She must be his fiancée, Violet. She’s gorgeous, her long brownish-blond hair falling around her shoulders and her blue eyes bright.
“That’s right.” I return her smile as I take a step back. “Sorry for the intrusion, I’ll head off now. I hope it all goes smoothly, and you don’t have too long to wait.”
Roman’s mom sniffs, drawing my attention. She’s still seated on the couch, staring down at a half-full coffee cup. “I hope so too. I don’t know how much of this awful coffee I can take.” She looks at Violet and lifts a brow. “You should start supplying to hospitals. Good coffee would make these types of long waits much more pleasant.”
That’s right. Sophie told me that Violet owns True Brew, a sustainable artisan coffee shop that’s developed quite a cult following recently.
“Some of those delicious pastries of yours wouldn’t hurt either.” Tate hooks his arm around his fiancée’s waist and pulls her tight against him so he can drop a kiss on her forehead.
I swear there are hearts in her eyes when she smiles up at him, and wistfulness washes over me.
It’s hard not to wonder what it would be like to have a partner like that. A partner who had my back, who I could share my highs and lows with. A man I knew I could turn to when things got tough.
Maybe Dad’s right. Perhaps it’s time for me to get out and start dating. I sneak a peek over at Roman again. Maybe it would get rid of my pesky attraction to my boss as well.
Shaking away the longing threatening to overtake me, I school my expression. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Mr. King.”
One corner of his mouth tips up. “Get some sleep. It would be nice if at least one of us is awake during the meeting.”
I do my best to suppress my smile. We both know that, sleep deprived or not, he’ll be wide awake and on the ball at the meeting.
With a small self-conscious wave to the rest of his family, I turn and walk briskly to the exit and out to the waiting car.
As I climb back in, Phillip turns in his seat. “All sorted?”
“Yes.” I rub at my eyes, suddenly drained of all energy. At least I’ve got a comfortable bed to go back to, unlike Roman and his family.
The car pulls away from the curb and I’m once again readying to tell Phillip my address when I spot a twenty-four-hour donut shop, lit up and beckoning to me.
“I’m sorry, Phillip, but could you pull over here?” I point at the shop.
He peers at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes dancing. “Need a sugar hit?”