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We spend the next hour talking about everything and nothing, and I imagine doing this with her everyday. Makayla naked in my bed, curled up beside me, telling me all about her day until she falls asleep.
Two more weeks.
Then she’s mine.
EIGHTEEN
MAKAYLA
“What are the chances?” a familiar male voice says.
I look over my shoulder to see Spencer standing behind me. He’s wearing a button-down dress shirt, dress pants, and a smirk.
He’s still cute.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Here you go, Makayla!” the barista says as she sets my latte on the counter.
“Thank you.” I smile, grabbing my cup and turning my attention back to Spencer.
“I work in this building,” he replies.
“Me too. Contracts on the fifteenth floor. You?”
An hour after my interview with Davis Corporation, I received a call from Human Resources with an offer, including a generous signing bonus. I started last Monday, after a routine background check and drug screen.
“I work for the other Davis. Architect, eighth floor.”
I raise my brows. “I didn’t realize there were two different companies.” Heather only mentioned having one brother. “Are they related?”
“Cousins.”
“Oh.”
His eyes flick over my face as he considers his next words. “Hey, I’m sorry if I acted like a dick last time. I told myself if I ever got the chance to apologize for the way I ended things—”
“You mean when you ghosted me,” I interject, arching a brow.
Shoving his hands in his pocket, he gives me a tight smile. “You caught me off guard, so I just blurted out a half-assed apology. It was awkward.”
“Yeah, it was,” I admit as I take a sip of my coffee.
“So, do you live in Magnolia Park?”
“I do. You?”
“I do.” He nods. “I’m living in my sister’s guest house at the moment. Rent is cheap, and it’s bigger than most of the apartments in Magnolia Park. Maybe we can meet at the coffee place in The Village sometime and catch up,” he suggests. “My treat.”
“Sure. I’d like that.” I smile.
He pulls out his cell, and I rattle off my number. I dart my gaze over his shoulder to see Heather walking into the lobby and heading for the elevators. “Gotta go. We’ll catch up soon.”
“Hey, girl,” I say, falling in step beside Heather.
“Hey,” she chirps. “Was that Spencer?”
“Yep.” I snicker and blow into the small hole of my coffee lid. “He’s an architect on the eighth floor. I didn’t know there were two different Davises in this building.”