Page 31

I take a quick look at my calendar. I have a Q&A with the customer service team tonight. We’re ordering in dinner for the day shift to stay late, and the overnight crew to come in early.

But I’ve got two hours until then, and Cara should be home from work by now.

I use the controls on my desk to lock my office door and activate the privacy screen built into the glass walls.

Toby: Sent you an email with the contact information for your Alex. He prefers later in the week, Thursday or Friday.

Cara: Awesome. I’ll pick Friday, it’s most realistic. And…

Toby: What?

Cara: You’re going to laugh.

Toby: Try me.

Cara: I bought a wedding dress today.

I flex my fingers. No, I’m not laughing. That tight squeeze in my chest isn’t humor.

I tap on her name and hit the call button. I find it easier to dig into enthusiasm when I can hear her voice.

“Is that totally silly?” she asks when she answers. She sounds out of breath.

“Not at all. Where are you?”

“Just got home. Had to carry the dresses up the stairs because there’s a guy working on the elevator. Six floors trumps my half-hearted step class ability.”

I chuckle. “Dresses, plural?”

“I bought two. It’s a long story.”

“I want to hear it.”

She tells me about walking through the mall, trying to get in the right head space, then finding the dresses, and the nighttime dress she put back. By the time she’s finished, I actually am excited for her. Weird as this plan may be, she’s having quite the adventure.

“Do you want to see them?” she asks in a breathy rush. “Or not. Maybe not.”

“I do,” I say before I can stop myself.

“I’ll text you some pictures.”

“Or we could switch to video…”

“Yeah?” Man, the eagerness in her voice is addictive. Whenever she decides she’s ready to find a real boyfriend to share her life with, he’s going to be the luckiest fuck in the world.

My phone chirps with the request to initiate a video connection, and I accept. Her grinning face pixels into view. “Hey there,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

“Look at the big fancy CEO, wearing a suit and tie,” she teases.

I grin. “I like suits. And I’ve got a thing tonight. Gotta look like the boss.”

“You’re not one of those guys who prefers to work in jeans and a tee?”

“Those are good, too.”

She pulls her knee up into view. “And I’m in yoga pants.”

“I’m definitely not going to complain about that,” I say without thinking.