Page 56 of Forever Then
Chapter Forty-Three
I GUESS WE’RE SUPPOSED TO EAT FAJITAS NOW
Connor
The office is a ghost town for the first two hours, but it’s exactly what I needed to get caught up after four days out of the office.
Now that my colleagues have begun to file in, the sound of ringing phones, friendly chatter and fingers pecking at keyboards creates a dull murmur outside my office door.
I’m still sifting through my inbox when my boss’ assistant informs me that Mr. Driskill wants to meet with me this afternoon.
The last time we spoke was nearly a week ago.
He was open-minded to my attempts to smooth over any tension surrounding my breakup with his daughter.
However, though he’s a fair CEO, he’s also a family man.
No matter how you slice it, I’m not his favorite person right now and this impromptu meeting that I have no context for has me feeling even more unsettled.
Thankfully, elbow deep in back-to-back phone calls and overdue team meetings, I’m quickly distracted.
I’ve just come up for air close to lunch time when my phone pings.
Gretchen
I’d like to clarify the terms of our thermostat agreement.
Me
Proceed.
Gretchen
I’m currently sitting at a delightfully cozy 72. You should try it sometime. It’s glorious.
Anyway…
Is the expectation for the apartment to be 70 degrees when you walk in the door, or can I crank it down when you get here?
Me
Hmmm…
Gretchen
Right?! The fine print gets murky.
Me
Cranking it down before would mean you could wear one of my hoodies. And I do love seeing you in my clothes.
Gretchen
Solid point. But, on the other hand, at 72 degrees you would walk in the door and immediately have to start disrobing.
That feels like a win-win.
Me
I don’t know. I need some time to weigh the pros and cons.
Gretchen
That’s fair.
If I don’t hear anything, I’ll just surprise you.
Come home hungry. I’m making dinner .
A soft tap on my door pulls my attention.
“Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt. I know you’re probably swamped,” Lauren says from the doorway.
Memories of our conversation last week has me out of my seat and moving in for a hug that’s neither forced nor awkward.
“I’m about to head out to lunch, but I wanted to check in and um…so…it’s really hot outside.”
My burst of laughter turns a few heads in the cubicle pool beyond my door. We’re friends now and it’s exactly as it should be between us. “We’ll always have the weather.”
Her face sobers. “I talked to Reagan yesterday. I can’t believe it. I had no idea.”
“I know. Me neither.”
Silence stretches for long seconds before Lauren shifts topics. “How was the trip?”
“It was…” I trail off. The last time we talked, I assured her there was nothing between Gretchen and me.
I didn’t have the highest hopes then that anything would happen between us. But things have changed and the last thing I want is for Lauren to find out and think I intentionally kept it from her or, worse, that I did anything behind her back.
“It was good. Actually, there’s something I should probably tell you.
” I pause, inhaling deeply. “When we spoke on the phone last week I didn’t dwell on the fact that I was there with Gretchen because there wasn’t anything going on there”—her face turns dour—“and that was the truth. Nothing was happening between us, but?—”
“But there is now,” she finishes.
“The trip had nothing to do with her and me, I swear. She had some other stuff going on and Drew asked me to be there for her.” My words catch as I hesitate to go on. But I know I have to be honest with her. “But she and I had some baggage from back before I met you and?—”
“You were together before?”
I shake my head. “No. We almost were. We kissed once.” I’ve never actually admitted that out loud to anyone before. “That dinner a couple months ago was the first time I’d seen her in almost three years.”
She nods absently and looks away. “Sorry. I’m…processing.”
“I should have told you about Gretchen, but to be honest, Drew doesn’t even know and I’ve been really scared of him finding out. But that’s no excuse and I’m sorry.”
“Is she the reason you ended things with me?” I immediately open my mouth to respond, but she holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m not jealous or anything. I know that breaking up was the right thing for us. I promise, that’s not why I’m asking.”
“No, I get it.” I scratch the back of my neck. “I didn’t break up with you so that I could date Gretchen, but…I think seeing her again made me see us”—I motion a hand between us—“more clearly.”
A crease forms between her brows and I wish I had the right words to make it disappear. “God, I’m getting this all wrong. I’m?—”
“No,” she interrupts. “We want each other to be happy, right?”
“That’s all I want for you.”
“That’s what I want for you, too,” she says. “And you are?”
I stick my hands in my pockets and cock my head. “I am. Are you?”
“I am.”
No animosity. No grudges. Both of us content to move on, we share a smile before a coworker pops her head in. “Lauren, your lunch date is here?”
She thanks her and moves toward the door.
“Lauren?” She turns. “I hate to ask, but could you not mention anything to Drew or Reagan? With everything that’s happening, I just…I’m trying to find the right time to tell him.”
“Of course. What are friends for?”
She’s halfway out the doorway when I call out again. “What’s his name?” She whirls back with a questioning look. “Your new guy. What’s his name?”
“Oh, it’s Kyle.”
“Tell Kyle I think he’s a very lucky guy.”
My meeting with my boss was my last appointment of the day. As it turns out, I was worried over nothing. On the contrary, he offered me a team lead position on a large political campaign project.
The whole trip home from the office is spent weighing the pros and cons of accepting it. Four months of late nights and weekends. But to have such a significant project on my resume could be a game-changer for whatever comes next for me.
I’ve never been a big what’s next kind of guy—wasn’t ever sure I’d become one either. But with Gretchen, if my next doesn’t align with hers, I’m not interested.
When I step inside my apartment, my senses go on overload—the look, the sound, the smell, the feel of coming home to your person.
Music blares from the living room speakers while dinner sizzles in a pan in the kitchen.
I softly close the door behind me, drop my things on the entryway table, and peek around the corner to find Gretchen, dressed in tiny shorts and one of my t-shirts hanging off one shoulder revealing a black lace bra strap underneath.
A single braid wraps to one side and her legs are bare from her upper thigh all the way down to her toes.
She hovers over the stovetop, working a spatula with one hand while the other shifts her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
There’s no big karaoke performance or wild dance moves, but she’s perfectly her in the way she hums the song under her breath, rocking back and forth on her feet. Effortlessly, she consumes my space, like it was hers to begin with. I can’t make myself look away.
Still unaware of my presence, I sneak up behind her. I pinch both sides of her waist and she jumps with a yelp.
“Holy jeez! Connor!” She presses a palm to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Honey, I’m home,” I laugh as I haul her toward me, her back to my front, and rest my chin on her shoulder. “What are you making?”
“Fajitas. ”
“They smell delicious.” I kiss her exposed shoulder. “I see you chose my clothes after all.”
Setting the spatula aside, she reaches for the stereo remote and turns the volume down. She spins in place and loops her arms around my neck. “I’m doing our laundry because I had no clothes left. I hope you don’t mind.” She flutters her lashes.
“You can have them all. They look better on you anyway.” She steps out of my hold to grab plates from the cabinet. “What did you do today?”
“I used your emergency key to Drew’s to go over there and clean up.
Stocked their fridge with a few things. Mom and Dad visited them at the hospital this morning and now they’re at their hotel sleeping off the jet lag.
” She collects two forks from a drawer before pushing it shut with her hip.
“I FaceTimed with Cheyenne, Miguel and the kids.”
“How weird is that for you to say out loud?” I ask as she sets the plates and forks down on the counter.
She presses her hands into her cheeks, eyes wide in disbelief, but there’s an undeniable joy there. “Oh my gosh, it’s so weird. I went through more of the scrapbook and we talked through some of it.” Her expression turns thoughtful before she shakes her head. “It’s just wild, is all.”
I tug on her braid to draw her into my arms again. “I missed you today.”
Her soft lips land gently on mine. “Missed you, too.” Another kiss. “But only a little because I went back to see Gene today.”
I bark out a laugh. “You did not?”
“I most definitely did,” she declares, turning back to the stove.
“He’s like Willy Wonka, but with books and, you know, without the creepy tunnel boat ride.
” She pulls a jar of seasoning from the cabinet.
“He let me help package up a few books to ship out and, you didn’t hear it from me, but Julia Roberts’ husband is about to receive a very coveted copy of The Great Gatsby as a gift. ”
“Sounds like you’ve got a decent fallback in the book industry if this fashion thing doesn’t work out.” I quirk a teasing brow.
“Nah. I love reading too much to make books my job. ”
“Really? I’d think that’s why you might love it.”
Shrugging, she answers, “I thought about it when I applied to NYU, but I worried it would suck the joy out of reading for me. Like, if I go behind the curtain, I might come out jaded. I’m happy to just be a lover of books.