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“But,” Anthony continues, “she might say one thing to me and another thing to you in private.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, she has said some things to me in private,” I say, locking my arms behind his neck.
“Oh?”
“She said she’s glad I’ve finally found a good man.”
Anthony closes his eyes at that. He’s still not good at accepting compliments. “Right.”
“She did,” I insist. “You know, this is the woman who started a matchmaking company out of her Soho apartment in the nineties. She’s eccentric, elegant, free-spirited love personified.”
“So she really doesn’t mind that I seduced her niece right under her nose.”
“You seduced me, did you?”
“Oh yes,” he says. “Wasn’t that obvious from our very first meeting? You were the one who insisted on setting me up with other women.”
“Hmm. I don’t think you knew you were seducing me either.”
“I was always very clear about that,” he says, grinning. But the soft caress of his hands on my hips tells me there’s partial truth in the words. I kiss him, and he kisses me back, tasting like the sangria I’d made us after lunch. But he’s still distracted. It’s there in the slow, careful use of his lips.
“What?” I ask.
“Areyouokay with it, Summer? With me being your boss?”
I smile. “Vivienne is my boss.”
He rolls his eyes, and I laugh, pressing my lips to his again. “Yes, I’m okay with it.”
“We’d figure something out if you weren’t,” he says. “You know that.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “I know that. If you’re okay with dating one of your employees?”
“Well, you’re not my employee. You’re Vivienne’s.”
“Right. Besides,” I say, “you’re a very hands-off boss.”
Anthony puts his hands on my bare waist, gripping me tight. “Am I?”
I laugh, closing the distance between us. He kisses me slowly and thoroughly, a warmth spreading through my limbs that has nothing to do with the late summer sunshine. Happiness feels like an ever-present drug these days, hits available at all times.
He gives a low groan of contentment and rests his head against my collarbone. I trail my fingers over the breadth of his shoulders, the skin sun-warm beneath my touch. “What were you reading?”
“Mmm. The same book.”
“The memoir?”
“Yeah. He’s describing his journey with braille now.”
“Any good?” I ask. The adjustments he’s making, the things he’s learning, isn’t a forbidden topic. But it’s sometimes a sore one.
“Yes. Though it still seems like a damn nightmare to learn.”
I run my nails softly down his back and he sighs with pleasure, gripping me tighter. “You’ve got time to learn,” I say. “It could be years, still. The doctor said you might end up retaining partial sight for decades.”
“The doctor says a lot of things,” Anthony comments, in a tone that makes it clear what he thinks of Dr. Johnson’s cheery remarks. “But,” he says, voice stronger, “I’m not focusing on that. Preparing for the future but embracing the present.”
“You sound like a fortune cookie,” I tease, but my heart swells at the words. It’s what I’ve wanted him to believe all along.
