Page 18 of Meant For Love
I turn back to order the drinks before I put my hand on her hip to lean in and whisper in her ear, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she confirms, “I’m having more fun than I thought I would.”
“It’s the equity,” I joke, and she throws her head back and laughs. My lips tingle to lean forward and kiss her neck. I’ve never seen this side of her. Well, to be honest, she’s always run away from me the minute she’s had a chance. But now, having spent the past week with her, I am able to admit that everything I thought about when I met her was the truth.
The bartender returns with her drink, my glass of scotch, and two shots of tequila. She pulls away from her conversation with one of the wives to smirk at me. “Are you going to say equity just to get me to drink?”
“No, I’m going to say equity so I get to carry you to my bed.” I wink at her and hold up my glass for her to clink on it. I down the shot, and she winces when she downs hers before she takes a sip of her vodka.
We stand side by side at the bar with a couple of people around us. I’m having one conversation on my right while she is having a conversation on her side. Her laughter makes me look over at her as she turns her head and laughs on my shoulder. I see the man from before, and he is holding up his hand. “I said what I said, and I’m not taking it back.” Zoey turns back to him, and with her being so close to my arm, I wrap it around her waist to get her closer to me. “So are you going to work with me?”
“My calendar is full,” she says to him, “but I have your business card, and if something opens up, you are the first one on the list.”
“That’s what they all say.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of his bourbon. “But you, girlie, I believe you.”
“She doesn’t lie,” I cut in to the conversation. “Not even a white lie.”
“You need to convince her to come work for me,” he urges, and I shake my head.
“Not a chance in hell I’m letting this one out of my sight.”
“I thought she wasn’t your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.” I turn to her and wink. “She’s her own girl, but she’s also my employee, so technically, she’s mine.”
“Smart man,” he says and walks away.
“Nice save.” She looks at me and takes a sip of her drink. “Also, I am my own girl.”
“Do you want to sit?” I ask, pointing at an empty table in the back. Two cushioned chairs face a small round table.
“Sure.” She walks away from me toward the table. She sits down on one of the cushions, and I sit next to her, but I move the table farther away from us so I can scoot my chair closer to her.
“I don’t want this night to end,” I admit as I take a sip of my scotch, putting my ankle on my knee.
“It has to end sometime,” she says softly as she puts her purse on the table in front of her but leans back into the cushion, looking at me.
“Does it?” I ask. I would make a deal with the devil not to have this night end and we both stay exactly where we are.
“Yes, yes, it does.” She turns a little toward me.
“What would your boyfriend say if he knew you were here with me?” Every single time I mention this guy, I hate him more and more, and I’ve never even fucking met him. But I know I’m jealous he’s had her for the past two years.
“One.” She takes a sip of her drink, and I see she’s a bit nervous. “He’s not technically my boyfriend. We are still trying to figure things out.” Even though she’s saying the words, she’s not convinced of it. I give her a minute to take another sip of her drink. “I mean, I know what I want, but after two years, you would think he would have it figured out already.”
I look into her eyes, the promises unspoken. “What do you want?” I ask her the loaded question. I wait, my heart hammering in my chest, my tongue heavy in my mouth to promise to give her everything she has ever wanted even though I don’t know what that is.
“I don’t really know.” She finishes her drink and leans forward to put the empty glass on the table in front of her. “No, forget that,” she quickly adds. “I know exactly what I want. I want the whole fucking thing.” Her hands are animated when she’s talking, and I want to take one of them and hold it in mine after I kiss it to get her to relax. “I want to marry a man who has my back and supports my career. A man who is proud of me and who I’m proud of. A house with a white picket fence”—she rolls her eyes—“which sounds dumb.”
“It doesn’t sound dumb,” I say softly, taking a gulp of my scotch, but she doesn’t even hear me. She just continues talking.
“I want two point five kids.” I roll my lips to stop laughing at her, knowing she would probably glare at me, but with all my drinks, it escapes me, and she glares at me.
“Baby, you can’t have two point five kids.”
“I mean, I want to have two kids and be pregnant with another. And you know what?”
“I’m all ears.” I reach out my hand and put it on her leg, expecting her to toss it off, but she’s so worked up over this that she either doesn’t notice or is okay with it.