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“Itis.”
“I love it,” she says atlast.
I feel Daisy’s eyes on me as I lean in. “Great. Let’s talkdetails.”
We spend the next hour working through social mediastrategies.
At the end, Daisy pulls me aside. “Nicelydone.”
I swallow my excitement at the kudos in her dark-rimmed eyes. She shoots me a wink, and I stop her before sheleaves.
“Daisy, can I ask you something? Why did you start this company? I mean, I know it’s about empowering women. But whythiscompany—aboutrelationships?”
Surprise crosses her face. “Because relationships are what we have in common. It’s not about the color of our skin or our beliefs. We’re all human. We crave approval and comfort, and above everything else? Love. And love looks like many different things.” She smiles and strides back to heroffice.
Kendall congratulates me. “We have to celebrate. We could go tonight, but I have to get Rory from thebabysitter’s.”
“Rain check? I have to getsomewhere.”
* * *
November isn’t usually rainy,but by the time I get out of the office, it’s spitting. I forgot my umbrella, but at least my hair’sup.
The doorman at the club holds the door, and I step inside, wiping drops from my face. I spot Wes immediately, waiting inside the lobby. He’s dressed in a wool coat, hands in his pockets as he inspects one of thepaintings.
It’s true that NYC has the most gorgeous guys on the planet, but lately, there’s only one I careabout.
“Hey.”
Wes turns, and his handsome face relaxes when he seesme.
I haven’t seen him since I stayed at his place Sunday, and he’s rocking some serious five o’clock shadow as he hands his rain jacket to the concierge. We’re a few feet apart. In his baby-blue collared shirt, his tie loose, his shoulders look squarer than I remember. His jaw tighter. His hair’s messy, from the rain or somethingelse.
The backdrop is gold and wood and wool carpet, but I’m torn between admiring him and dragging him toward the locker room to argue over whose tongue should be in whosemouth.
He breaks the tension first. “I’m surprised they let me in here after I hit yourdad.”
“Oh, you’d have to do farworse.”
“Like invite a woman to meet me in the men’s changingroom?”
“Yeah, like that. Want to get a drink?” Iask.
He nods, leading the way toward the bar. Wes claims one of two wingback chairs by the fireplace, and I make a quick request of the bartender on my way to the otherone.
Two reddish cocktails are set on the side table betweenus.
“Since Jake’s not here to order cocktails, I took the liberty. I hope you like Manhattans,” I offer. We clink glasses, and I meet his gaze over therim.
The room isn’t empty, but I’m caught up in his attention, as if in this room of bankers and rich men, he’s the only one who matters.Heisthe only one whomatters.
I take a sip because my throat is suddenlyparched.
God, I missedhim.
I need to say something, or I’m going to drop my feelings on this expensive carpet at his feet. I shift in my chair, the leather squeaking under me. “We got the ASMRclient.”
His brows draw together, and competing emotions war in his eyes. “Congratulations.”
