Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
He walks toward me, and my body goes on full alert for half a second before he passes in front of me and starts to rifle through the food on his desk.
“Which sandwich is yours?” he asks casually.
“They’re both the same.”
“Good. Here,” he says, unwrapping one for me.
I don’t move from my spot.
He glares over at me with an arched brow.
“Should I make you sit down?” he says, turning as if he’s about to walk toward me.
My eyes widen in alarm, and I hold out my hands to keep him at bay. “No. I can do it.”
I scurry over to my seat and sit down once again, making a show of reaching for my sandwich as if I’m actually going to eat it. My stomach is in knots, but he’s waiting for me to eat, so I bite off the tiniest bit and chew.
Meanwhile, Walt looks on, watching me.
“Would you stop?” I groan.
“I can’t help it.”
“You have to look at me?”
“I have to make sure you’re not going to run away, yes. You’re liable to dart out of here at any moment.”
I roll my eyes and take a bigger bite, nodding for him to do the same. He opens a bag of chips and angles it so we can share it.
For a minute or two, we eat quietly.
Then, I ruin it with an observation.
“You know, you didn’t even kiss me. At least…I mean, not on the mouth.”
His brown eyes are too amused as he looks over at me. “I’ll kiss you right now if you want me to.”
“No! I have sandwich breath.”
Before he can reply, his phone rings on his desk, and he answers it by hitting a button so it diverts to speakerphone.
“Yes?”
“Lori and the guys are here for the quality meeting,” April says.
“Oh,” I whisper, jumping up so I can leave.
Walt’s hand darts out to catch mine so I can’t go.
“Sit,” he tells me.
“What?” April asks, confused.
“I’ll be done in ten minutes,” he tells her while motioning for me to sit down. “They’re early and I’m still eating lunch.”
“No worries. I’ll let them know,” she confirms before ending the call.
I’m still standing.
Walt’s still holding my hand, his grip steady and warm.
“Like you said, we haven’t seen each other all week,” he points out. “Sit and eat with me.”
Slowly, I retake my seat, knowing that arguing with him is futile. He wants me to stay and he’s used to getting his way, so I’ll sit and eat and act like everything is normal even though it’s definitely not.
With my leg jiggling up and down nervously, I manage to eat a meager quarter of my sandwich before wrapping it up.
Meanwhile, Walt’s food is gone in the blink of an eye. He sweeps the crumbs away and helps me clean up.
“I’ll take the leftovers home,” I promise, standing up to gather everything.
“I’ll be late. I have a dinner meeting.”
“Oh.”
“Why does that upset you?”
He looks like he loves the idea.
Instead of stroking his ego, I do the world a favor and shrug indifferently on my way to his office door. “It doesn’t. I have work to do anyway.”
He nods, though I think he can see right through my façade.
I’m about to turn the knob and walk out when I look back to find him watching me, a knowing smile in place on his handsome face.
Before he can see me taken in by him yet again, I rush out.
Twenty-Three
Back at the apartment, I stay in the library, focused on my work as I smooth out layers of pastels. Every now and then I’ll think I hear something—footsteps in the hall, the elevator doors opening—and I’ll look over my shoulder eagerly, disappointed to realize it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. The huge clock that looms in the corner of the library is horribly accurate, tick-tick-ticking the minutes away and reminding me that Walt still hasn’t come home. God, who invented time anyway?
It’s only been a few hours, and already it feels like there’s a chasm between right now and everything that happened in Walt’s office at lunch. As if he did that to me years ago. I wonder if, after I left, he regretted how far we went.
It was no small thing.
My panties were on the floor of his office.
Oh dear god.
I toss my pastel back into its box and step away from the easel. That’s enough for one night.
I clean up and prepare everything so I can get right back to work tomorrow. After, I shower and change into my silk pajama set, taking my time as I brush my teeth, stalling.
How late do work meetings go?
Are you really still discussing business if you’re out at 10 PM?
These are the things I mull over as I lie in bed, trying for sleep on my right side, then my left side, then on my back even though I haven’t fallen asleep on my back…um, ever. My body is like, Nice try, roll over. So I do, and I stare out the window until finally sleep takes pity on me.