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I relax into his embrace as I come to terms with just how fucked-up I might be. Because even as standoffish as I am, even holding Chase off and sneaking out on him, he never left. I did.
I pull back, searching his eyes with mine. “You… love me?”
He nods, his expression tender. It isn’t until the corner of his lip quirks up that I realize I’m humming “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Elvis always knows what to say.
He kisses me quick on the mouth. “I love you, Bell. I love how smart you are, how creative. I love how hard you work and how you don’t demand respect from the people who work for you; you earn it and give it right back.” Another quick kiss. “And I love how sexy you are, how you light up when you come and how you hum Elvis tunes without even knowing it.” His next kiss is longer, tender. It stops my tears and fills my heart. “Love me, Bell. Please. I’ll be worth it. I promise.”
Everything settles at his words. I notice he feels like he has to prove his worth to me to be loved, and I wonder how much of my own damaged responses to him he’s taken as a personal rejection. Words, phrases, emotions war inside me as I try to piece together something powerful and romantic to let him know just how worthy he is.
And then he sings.
The chorus from “It’s Now or Never” floats between us. He sings softly. Deeply. His eyes never leaving mine.
Just like that, emotions ebb, thoughts quiet, and the world becomes just this room, this man, and me.
The last words trail off, the lyrics answering any questions spawned by my fears and anxieties. So I do what the song says. I kiss him.
It’s slow and seductive and so full of all the things I feel but am having trouble saying.
“You’re worth everything, Chase.”
Chase has many smiles. Seductive, playful, insincere, amused. I’ve clocked them all. But this one, the one spreading over his handsome face mere inches from mine, after serenading me with Elvis, is my new favorite.
It’s pure happiness. It can’t get any better than this.
I whisper the words we both need to hear. “I love you.”
I was wrong. It can get better.
* * *
My hands are still shaking when I finally make my way to the conference room my team took over as their workspace.
Chase loves me.
We stood in that closet just staring at each other and smiling for a good minute or so before begrudgingly getting back to work. Don’t get me wrong; there were plenty of one-last-kisses and whispered, filthy promises for later. But for now, there is reality to deal with. Like the reality of us having had sex in an inventory closet, just a few yards away from employees and, worse, Denise.
Speaking of Denise.
“Why we are even bothering with the men’s department is beyond me. The numbers clearly show that Moore’s strongest consumer is female.” I stop outside the door, leaning against the wall, trying to shore up the emotional reserves needed to handle her. I heard what she said to Chris, what she implied, about Chase and me while we hid in the closet.
She wasn’t wrong.
“We already shot the women’s departments, Denise. On Friday.” Chris’s tone is bored. “When you couldn’t make it, for some reason or another.”
“Just like you couldn’t make the previous meeting Campbell called last week,” Ben mumbles.
Sensing that my team’s patience is running out, I roll off the wall and around the door frame. Denise’s back is to me, so she doesn’t notice me in the doorway.
Alice, also turned away from me, clears her throat. “Um, maybe we should look over the photos from this morning. I’ve already uploaded them.” She points to the projection screen. “I think the one of the mannequins dressed in Tom Ford and Yves Saint Laurent formal wear would be great for the men’s department profile picture.” Day by day, she becomes more confident, showing more of the talent I saw in her fantastical floating shoe display.
“Alice, is it?” Denise turns in her chair to address my new hire, giving me her profile. I can see her looking down her nose at Alice, taking in the younger woman’s functional-looking shoes and professional, but by no means designer, outfit. Since hiring her, I’ve gotten the impression that things might be tight, financially, for Alice. She wore both the skirt and jacket earlier just this week, though not at the same time. Though her lack of designer duds doesn’t faze me in the least, it’s like blood in the water to a predator like Denise. “No one asked for the intern’s thoughts.” The words are drowning in condescension.
Alice’s shoulders hunch, her head dropping forward.
Ben braces his palms on the table like he’s about to pounce, but I beat him to the punch by speaking first. “Leave.”
Startled, everyone jumps at my voice.
