Page 69

“Yeah, but I’m here and I’m trying. I promise.”

“All right.” He waves the driver off, opens my door, and gets in next to me. “Anytime you feel like you don’t trust something I say or do or whatever, you come to me. You talk to me. You don’t let it build up in your head, okay? We talk, and we fix it.”

He says every word with patience, and with each word, I can feel that he means what he’s saying.

“Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I want.”

We ride to his place in silence.

A part of me wants to ask what he’s thinking. Is he thinking about work? Is he thinking about our situation? Because outside of when I’m at work, all my brain can think about is us.

Do we need to do more? Less? Are we truly convincing the world of this engagement after almost a week? I mean, magazines are loving it, so I assume that’s a yes.

The driver pulls up to a tall building; I have to tilt my head all the way back to see the top of it.

“You live here?” I whisper.

“Yep,” he says as if he’s less than impressed about it.

A doorman opens the door for us, smiling but not saying a word.

Another gentleman is waiting at the elevator. He presses a button. The elevator opens, we all get on, and the staffer presses the button for our floor.

Still no one talks.

“Thank you, Carl,” Preston says once we reach our floor and step off the elevator. The doors open right into his apartment.

“Wow,” I say immediately. “This place is huge.”

As soon as the word is out of my mouth, I slap my hand over it.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. This place is gorgeous.”

Preston laughs. “It’s too big if you ask me.”

Maybe a little, but compared to my cabin, it’s just … wow.

It has a very industrial feel, from the open ceiling where you can see the ducts, and the three colors are a blend of black, gray, and dark gray. Even his couch is black. The kitchen has black appliances, and the marble countertops are white and gray. It’s all very manly feeling and not very cozy.

It’s the opposite of everything in the lodge.

“I didn’t decorate it,” he adds. “It came this way, and I said to just leave it. I’m gone a lot, so it didn’t matter to me.”

He moves through the room, emptying his pockets and tossing things onto the counter like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I’ll show you the guest room and—shit.” He groans.

“What?”

“I’m remodeling that room into an office. It’s completely empty while they work on it.”

“Oh.” I glance at his couch. “Well, I guess it’s time I get a taste of my own medicine then. Where are your blankets?”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” he says matter-of-factly, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt once he’s got it loose enough. He pulls the tie off and then undoes another button.

My eyes drift to his exposed chest.