Chapter Thirty-One – Verity
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
VERITY
My feet tap anxiously as I keep eyeing the clock in the lower right-hand corner of my desktop. Just a few more minutes until five thirty.
“Did you send those new logos over to Sally?” Anne rests her hand on the wall separating our cubicles, referencing the UX designer on our team.
“Yeah, I just did. She’ll get the website mocks done for you in the morning so we can put them in the deck.”
“Will she have time to do all that before we meet with Frankie? Couldn’t you have sent them earlier?”
I swivel in my chair, raising a brow at her. “Frankie sent over a whole new color palette at three. It took me an hour to render everything again and download the files.”
This project is becoming a pain in the ass and is cementing my belief that working with celebrities and influencers is rarely worth the effort.
The only positive is that working with Anne isn’t as awful as I’d initially imagined.
She is so stressed from the project that she doesn’t really have the time to gloat in my face like she usually does.
However, because she is so stressed, she keeps bugging me about the smallest details.
Anne as a micromanager sucks, and Jenna isn’t doing much to rein her in.
“Could you maybe—”
“Sorry, it’s five thirty, I’m clocking out.”
I reach forward and turn off my two monitors before unplugging the HDMI cord from my laptop and closing that as well.
“Where are you rushing to?”
“Dinner plans.”
I slip my laptop into the pretty blue tote bag, trying to hide my excited smile. At first, I was super anxious to use it, but now, every time I look at it, I think of Cullen. It is still the most lavish gift I’ve ever gotten, and my heart does little flips whenever I see it.
“A date?” Anne’s curiosity is piqued, and it sets off little chimes in the back of my mind.
“No, meeting up with an old college friend.” I slip the tote bag over my shoulder and pocket my phone, the practiced lie slipping with ease. “See you in the morning.”
I skirt around her and speed walk out of the office, praying that no one else tries to stop me. I’ll have to be a little smarter about this in the future, keep my cards closer to my chest so no one picks up on the fact that I am dating a new guy.
It’s been a few days since Cullen and I started talking again, and I am already way out of my depth.
I’d planned on being coy, dipping my toes into the water and making small ripples in the pond.
The issue is that Cullen had grabbed my ankle and dragged me into what turned out to be an ocean, and now the waves are crashing around me.
I’m drowning in my emotions, trying to stay afloat and not let him pull me under. It’s inevitable, though.
Cullen is inevitable.
He has been since the moment I met him.
At some point, I’ll give in and surrender my heart to him—and something tells me that tonight will be that night.
He texted me yesterday evening to let me know he had booked us a special night out. I bugged him about it during our commute this morning, but he refused to let any of the details slip. All he told me was to wear something nice. As though that cryptic instruction didn’t give me even more stress.
My fingers bounce on the railing of the subway car as I make the journey uptown to my apartment. I have some time to get ready but not much. I am feeling a lot like Hannah right now, cursing the fact that our apartment is so far away from the main bustle of the city.
I practically sprint the few blocks from the station to our building, earning a few curious glances from people on the sidewalk. I manage to get into our apartment a little after six and take the next hour and a half to get ready.
Music hums from my phone as I flitter around the bathroom. I spend the extra time curling my hair, which I never do, and burn the nape of my neck in the process.
The outfit I painstakingly chose with Hannah last night lies on my bed. My freshly shaved skin feels like it’s sparkling as I slide on the short red dress. I only have three nice dresses in my closet, and I am lucky this one still fits—I last wore it three, maybe four years ago to a frat formal.
My phone goes off, the timer letting me know that I have to leave in the next few minutes to make the train.
I grab the purse Hannah has lent me once again and shove a lip gloss, breath mints, my credit cards, and Band-Aids inside before racing out the door.
Well, racing is a relative term since I absolutely cannot run in heels—but I move as quickly as the three-inch pumps will allow me to without face-planting.
That plan falls to crap the second I open the door and spot Cullen in his usual spot by the lamp post.
I barely have the mental capacity to swing my arms out and rebalance myself to avoid tripping down the three steps.
He has the audacity to laugh at me.
“It’s not funny. I could’ve gotten a concussion or sprained my ankle, and then our entire date night would’ve been ruined as we waited in the ER.”
He reaches out a hand to me and I take it, letting him pull me close.
“My friends know a private doctor; you would’ve been fine.”
“Of course they do.” I roll my eyes. “What’re you doing here? I thought we were meeting outside West Fourth station?”
“Changed my mind. I wanted to see you sooner.”
My heart squeezes.
This man is truly ruining me.
“Well, we’re going to miss the train if we don’t leave now. I walk a lot slower in these shoes.”
“I called us a car.”
“What?”
“Yeah, they’re turning down the street now.”
Sure enough, a silver car comes to a stop on the street beside us just a moment later. Cullen opens the door for me and holds my hand as I step inside. Because my standards are extremely basic, I smile at the princess treatment.
“You know it takes longer to drive than to take the subway, right? Or have you forgotten from all your years away,” I tease him as he settles into the seat next to me.
The driver takes off, and while the street I live on is pretty quiet, I know that within a few blocks it will get a lot more congested.
Driving in the city is always a last resort in my eyes, something you do only when absolutely necessary.
Like when you’ve been at an event all night and the shoes you wore are making your feet bleed so you need to hail a taxi, or your roommate insisted on buying a twenty-pound bag of rice that neither of you can lug with the other groceries you purchased.
“Yes, but we aren’t in a rush, and this way, it’s just us.”
He slides his hand over my bare thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. It sends a tingle straight to my core, and I swallow thickly, trying to push away the momentary arousal. I am not about to get all hot and bothered by a single touch. That is absolutely ridiculous.
Cullen, however, doesn’t seem to care. His fingers continue to trail higher and higher, nudging dangerously close to the hem of my dress.
The pad of his finger toys with the fabric, slipping under it. I clench my thighs together before angling my head toward him and tossing him a warning glare.
“Cullen, we aren’t alone.”
“And?”
“And I doubt the rideshare driver is going to give you a five-star customer rating if you try to finger bang me in the back of his car.”
“Maybe he’ll enjoy a little show?”
His hand curls on the inside of my thigh, forcing the dress higher, his ring finger seriously close to my underwear.
“Well, I don’t.”
I swat at his hand, but it has zero effect, so instead I attempt to angle myself away from him.
“Really? You seemed to enjoy the show we gave at the ballet.”
His sultry voice curls close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
This man is going to make me a mess before we even start the damn date.
There is a small part of me, deep down, that is turned on by the prospect. The idea of trying to keep quiet so the driver doesn’t realize what we’re up to…the thrill only furthers the pulse thrumming straight to my pussy.
But I try to keep my wits about me. It is way too early in the evening for me to succumb to him. I have to at least attempt to keep the ball in my court for a little longer.
But, God, Cullen makes it hard to resist.
I rest my hand on his, threading my fingers through his so we are both clutching my thigh. I lean into him, playing fire with fire as my whisper dances across his lips. “Later.”
Sparks dance across his hazel eyes, and he finally relents, shifting his hold back down to a much safer spot on my leg.
I let out a small sigh of relief through my nose, my heartbeat slowing minutely as we continue driving down the parkway. A little over thirty minutes later, the driver begins to slow down.
“Should I drop you off on the left or right?”
“The right is fine,” Cullen instructs him.
I gather myself as he pulls over onto the side of the road. Cullen opens the door once the driver comes to a stop, stepping onto the sidewalk and holding a hand out to help me down.
I glance around at the various restaurants lining the street, each one busier than the next. I hadn’t been paying attention on the drive over, but I know exactly where we are.
Part of me wonders if Cullen picked this area because it’s where we first met or if it is just a coincidence.
There are a lot of amazing places to eat in the city, but certain pockets are better than others and have clusters of standout restaurants.
The street we are on now is part of a four-block radius that has some of the best modern dining in recent years.
Cullen takes my hand and loops it around his elbow.
“So, where are we headed?” I ask as he starts to lead us down the busy street.
“You’ll see in a minute.”
His cryptic response paired with his nonchalant expression gives nothing away.
I spot The Brass Stop on the corner and smile.
Sure, it had been shitty waiting there for hours for a man who never had the decency to contact me again, but I came out on top that night because I met Cullen.
These last few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind of stressful emotions, but I’m finally sitting at peace with myself.
It’s like Hannah said, I don’t want to sit here and regret not taking the chance on him. I tried to push him away, tried to ignore him for weeks on end, but the energy I was putting into fighting our connection was exhausting.
My rational brain is still warning me, still poking at the base of my skull that this could all blow up in my face and leave me with absolutely nothing, but I am coming to terms with that.
Never in my life have I taken a risk just for myself, never have I been selfish and followed my heart’s desires.
I am still young, still have the ability to make mistakes, so I will take this risk and just hope that it pays off in the end.
Cullen tugs us to the entrance of The Brass Stop and knocks on the glass door, where an employee answers with a pleasant smile.
“Mr. Ross, we’re so happy for you to join us tonight.”
He gestures for us to enter the restaurant, which is oddly empty for a Thursday night. One of the four C-shaped booths along the far wall is set up with tableware and even has a stunning array of blue snapdragons in the center.
“What’s going on?”
Confusion riddles me as I slide into the booth, scooching along the brown leather.
“Your waiter will be over with your drinks shortly.” The host gives us a short nod and then disappears.
“Where is everyone?”
Cullen shifts until he is nestled next to me in the booth, a lazy arm coming to rest on the back of my shoulders.
“There is no one else. Tonight, it’s just us.”
“Did—did you book out the entire restaurant?”
The words sound preposterous as I say them, but it’s the only explanation I can come up with.
“I did. I wanted to commemorate the start of our relationship at the very place we first met.”
“Ohmigod. You didn’t need to rent the whole place out for that!”
“Need? No. Want? Yes.”
“But it must have cost—”
Cullen places a quick kiss on my lips, swallowing my protests.
“What have I told you, Verity? To me, you are priceless. Any money I spend on you is insignificant because there is not a number I could come up with that would amount to how much your time is worth to me.”
I want to argue, but my soul is dripping from the honeyed sweetness of his words laving over me.
“How do you always find a way to make me feel like I’m the only person in your universe?”
“Because I care about you and know that you deserve the entire world, not just bits and pieces.”
“I haven’t even agreed to be your girlfriend again.”
“You agreed once, and—might I remind you—I never consented to our breakup. In my mind, you’ve always been mine.”
I want to give myself over to Cullen. I want to be his wholly. Yes, I’m scared of being totally consumed by him, but I’m also alight with the idea.
“Hi, I’m Janice, and I’ll be your server this evening.
These are your two starter cocktails.” A petite girl with a bob places two intricate drinks before us.
“The Cornerstar Toast is on the left, and The Railspun is on the right. I just want to congratulate you on your anniversary, and please let me know if there is anything else you need at all. The chef has your set course in the works, and the appetizer will be out shortly.”
“It’s all perfect, nothing else needed. Thank you, Janice.”
Cullen gives her a nod and she leaves.
He picks up the Nick and Nora glass before him, swirling the amber drink, which has a smoking cinnamon stick and dried orange slice garnishing it.
I, however, am still stuck on a particular word from the server.
“Anniversary?”