Page 145 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

CASH

I’d been planning this for three days. Which was ridiculous, considering I’d negotiated billion-dollar deals with less preparation. But this felt more important than any contract I’d ever signed. This was Cleo. This was proving to her that I meant what I’d said about courting her properly.

This was showing her what life with me could look like.

I didn’t want to miss a single detail. I needed her to know she was the most important thing in the world to me, which meant I would move heaven and earth for her. I promised her wooing. I was wooing to the twelfth degree.

I checked the dining table for the fifth time. Candles—lit. Wine—breathing. Music—playing softly in the background, something sultry and jazzy that the woman at the wine shop had recommended. Flowers—white peonies, because I know how much she loved them.

The food was almost ready. I’d spent the afternoon cooking. Actually cooking, not ordering in and pretending I’d made it. Herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, a salad with dressing that I did buy. It had pomegranate in it and was so good. I loved it and hoped Cleo would as well.

My phone buzzed. Downstairs. Doorman is judging my outfit.

I smiled and texted back: Tell him you’re with me. He’ll behave.

Used your name. He asked if you needed security.

Come up. I’ll fire him tomorrow.

Don’t you dare. He’s sweet.

The elevator chimed a minute later. I opened the door before she could knock.

She was wearing a sundress. Yellow with tiny white flowers, something bright and summery that made her look like she’d brought the sunshine inside with her. Her purple hair was freshly dyed. She’d done her makeup, but not too much. Just enough to make her eyes look even darker, her lips even more kissable. And her sandals were brilliant purple. The contrast with the yellow was so Cleo.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” I pulled her inside and kissed her. Long enough to mess up her lipstick. “You look beautiful. Sunshine. My own personal sun.”

“You’re biased.”

“Completely.” I took her hand and led her toward the dining room. “Come on. I made dinner.”

She stopped in the doorway. “Cash, wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I take a minute to just look? This place is crazy.”

“Too much?”

“Can I get the two-dollar tour for two cents? Although I’m guessing you could charge two hundred dollars for the tour.”

“Let me get you a drink first?”

“Like a bottle of water? Should I put on my walking shoes?”

I laughed. “Very funny.”

I led Cleo through the foyer and into the wide-open floor plan that was pretty much the entire floor.

“This is ridiculous,” she breathed, turning in a slow circle. “Like, actually ridiculous.”

“It’s just a place,” I said, trying to downplay it. I’d never given much thought to my home before. It was a space I slept in, worked in. A good investment in Manhattan real estate. But seeing it through her eyes made me suddenly self-conscious.

“Just a place?” She laughed. “Cash, this foyer is bigger than my entire apartment.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”