Chapter 21
COLT
Iwas surprised at work by Hallie who showed up looking like a literal goddess.
The woman was so effortlessly beautiful.
She didn’t have to put on pounds of makeup or designer clothes.
She was wearing a pair of black jeans, knee-high boots, and a loose-fitting gray sweater.
It probably wasn’t an outfit I would choose for her, but I liked it.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“I brought you lunch.”
I stared at her. I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “You brought me lunch?”
She was carrying a large bag, one of those reusable ones from the grocery store. She pulled out two containers and put them on my desk and then reached into the bag and pulled out another container.
“How much do you think I eat?” I asked.
She laughed. “One bowl for you. One for me. And the cookies are for your staff.”
I didn’t know what to say. Or do. No one had ever brought me lunch.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Tortellini with sundried tomatoes and mozzarella pearls.”
Again, I was speechless.
“I’m going to take these out to your staff.” She turned and walked back out of my office.
I looked back at the containers. Was she going to sit down and eat with me? How did she know when I would take lunch? What if I had been out?
Hallie returned. “Can I close the door?”
I nodded. She smiled and did so. She reached back into her bag and pulled out utensils, two cans of soda, and a few napkins.
I felt like a bump on a log. Hallie pulled off the lid on one of the containers and put it in front of me. Then she handed me a plastic fork and even a couple of salt and pepper packets that I assumed came from a restaurant.
She smiled and sat down in the chair across from my desk. She pulled off the lid on her own bowl. She took a bite and then looked at me. She frowned. “Do you not like tomatoes? Pasta?”
“No. I mean, yes. I do.”
She smiled and took another bite. I found my braincells and picked up my fork and took a bite. It was good.
“You made this?”
“Yep. I don’t have a job, and I have money in the bank, so I bought the good ingredients.”
I stared at her, trying to reconcile this version of Hallie with the woman who walked out on me. “Why?” I asked.
Her smile faltered slightly. “Why what?”
“Why are you here? You told me you needed space. You ran off to the Hamptons.”
“I didn’t run off. I took a day to clear my head. And now I’m back, and I wanted to apologize for disappearing like that. It wasn’t fair to you.”
I shrugged it off. “You don’t owe me an apology.”
“I do.” She looked up at me, and I saw vulnerability in her expression. “This whole thing—the engagement, the wedding planning, all of it—it caught up with me. I got overwhelmed. But I went to the beach house, spent some time thinking, and I got my head on straight.”
She seemed different. More settled. Like she’d made some kind of decision while she was gone.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “And the lunch?”
“It’s my way of saying sorry. Don’t people bring you lunch?”
The question caught me off guard. “Like Doordash, sure.”
“No, I mean doesn’t anyone cook for you? You’re acting like no one has brought you food like this before.”
“They haven’t,” I said honestly.
“Oh.” She chewed and swallowed. “That’s sad.”
In all my years, through all the women I’d dated or slept with or whatever, none of them had ever brought me lunch. They never thought about what I might like. Never made an effort that wasn’t about being seen at an expensive restaurant or getting something from me.
Her smile returned, softer this time. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. Now sit. Eat. And let me tell you about my ideas for the next couple weeks while your mouth is busy chewing.”
I sat, still processing this shift in her demeanor. The food smelled incredible. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since a protein bar at six this morning and that was long gone. My stomach growled like a junkyard dog at a trespassing cat.
I dug into the food and found myself relaxing in a way I hadn’t in days. There was something about having her here, in my space, that made my world feel more balanced. It didn’t hurt that her food was delicious.
“So,” Hallie said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Our wedding is only a few weeks away now.”
The reminder sent a jolt through me. Valentine’s Day was rushing toward us faster than I was ready for. “Yes, ma’am,” I said around a mouthful of tortellini.
Hallie nodded. “Which means we need to make a big push toward convincing the world that you’re not the pussy hound you used to be.”
I snorted a laugh. “Straight to the point.”
“Someone has to be.” She leaned forward with a quizzical expression. “We need a grand gesture. Something that shows you’re not just in this for the optics, but because you’re actually a good person who cares about things beyond yourself.”
“I am a good person who cares about things beyond myself,” I protested.
“That is debatable, but the world needs to think it’s true.
” She pulled out her phone and started scrolling.
“I was thinking we should make an appearance at a fundraiser. Make a staggering donation in both our names. Really cement the image of you as someone who’s settled down and is using his wealth for good. ”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her. “You want some of the credit, huh?”
She shrugged, but I caught the glint of amusement in her eyes. “It’s my idea. I deserve credit. And besides…” She looked up at me through her lashes in a way that did unfortunate things to my concentration. “Shouldn’t it be in both our names? I’m going to be your wife, after all.”
The word “wife” coming from her lips lit my insides on fire. I also chuckled at the stones on this woman. “I like your style,” I said. “So what charity are we talking about?”
She pulled up a list on her phone. “I’ve been doing a little research. There’s the Met Gala coming up in May, but that’s after our wedding. There’s a cancer research benefit next week. The Children’s Hospital is having their annual fundraiser. The Museum of Natural History.”
“Been there, done those,” I said. “What else you got?”
She scrolled further. “There’s this new nonprofit hosting their first annual charity event. They’re trying to raise funds for a team of people to educate New York’s youth on the dangers of drunk driving.”
Everything went still. Drunk driving.
“That one,” I said in a raspy voice. “That’s the one.”
Hallie looked up with surprise. “But it’s their first event. It’ll have the least publicity of anything on this list. Probably minimal media coverage. Terrible catering.”
“I don’t care.” I met her eyes. “That’s the one we’re doing.”
She looked at me, trying to piece together why I’d chosen that particular charity. But she didn’t push. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’ll reach out to them, let them know you’re planning to attend.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell them we’re coming. We’ll just show up.” I picked up my soda, needing a hit of sugar. It was a little too early for a shot of whiskey. “Announced appearances turn into media circuses. I want this to be genuine. Or as genuine as we can make it.”
Understanding flickered across her face. “You have a personal connection to this cause, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer directly. “We’ll make a significant donation. Enough to actually help them do their work. And yes, we can put it in both our names.”
“Colt.”
“Can we leave it at that?” I asked. “Please?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll add it to the calendar.”
We finished eating, and the conversation shifted to safer topics. Her time at the beach house. The work she wanted to do on it. The memories attached to every room.
“My dad built the screen door on the back porch himself,” she said, a wistful smile on her face.
“It hangs crooked. Always has. He tried to fix it at least a dozen times but could never get it quite right. My mom wanted him to just replace it, but he was stubborn. Said he’d figure it out eventually. ”
“Did he?”
“No. He died before he could.” Her smile turned sad. “But I don’t want anyone to fix it now. It’s perfect the way it is. A reminder that some things don’t need to be perfect to be loved. Every time it squeaks open, I can hear my mom sighing and my dad laughing. It was kind of a running joke.”
I paused, trying to find the right words. “That’s a good way to look at it.”
“It’s the only way to look at it,” she said softly. “Otherwise you drive yourself crazy trying to fix things that are already exactly what they’re supposed to be.”
After we finished eating, she started packing up the empty containers. “I should let you get back to work. I’m sure you have important billionaire things to do.”
“Wait.” The word came out before I could stop it.
She paused, looking at me expectantly. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I said. “For lunch. For coming here. For…” I gestured vaguely. “All of this.”
Her expression softened. “You’re welcome.”
“And Hallie?” I stood up, moving around the desk. “I’m sorry too. For how I acted at Shelter Island. I was a dick.”
“You were,” she agreed, but there was no bite to it. “But I get it. This is complicated.”
“Yeah.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “It is.”
We stood there for a moment, the air between us practically crackling with the electricity we seemed to generate.
“I should go,” Hallie said again.
“Yeah. You should.”
Neither of us moved.
Then Frankie’s voice crackled over my desk intercom. “Colt, you have a call on line two. It’s the Tokyo office.”
The spell broke. Hallie grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
“Saturday,” she said, turning back with a smile. “Try not to terrorize any wedding vendors between now and then.”
“No promises.”
She left, and I stood there staring at the closed door, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
Keep it professional, I reminded myself. Keep your distance.
But as I half-listened to my Tokyo manager drone on about production schedules, all I could think about was Saturday.
And the fact that for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was actually looking forward to a charity event.
Not because of the optics or the business connections or the photo opportunities. And not even because it was a great cause, which it was.
But because Hallie would be there.