Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Carl Wallace sits back after the waiter leaves, gently swirling the wine in his glass, listening to Derek Norman recount his drive up from Colorado Springs. I have to admit, I had pinned my hopes on having dinner tonight with my wife and not my colleagues, but once I realized what this was about, the invite was clearly more expectation than request.
“Thank you both for joining us,” Carl says, because I’m not the only one here.
“It’s my pleasure, sir.” Milo preens. “Thanks for the opportunity.”
Carl chuckles, which makes me think he sees right through Milo’s sycophantic fawning. I would find him more annoying if I wasn’t so relieved to have him here. I have been in the Vesper office every day for the past several weeks, managing my accounts, meeting with clients, honestly trying my best. But there have been times I just haven’t been fully present, my thoughts wandering in and out of the past, the present—some possible futures. I know my performance isn’t going to fly long-term.
Lucky for me, Milo makes an excellent personal assistant. He’s so hot to climb the corporate ladder, he makes most of my client calls, runs reports, and gets us both to all our meetings. Which has saved me so far. But I need to get my act together.
“So, Derek has come up to Denver this evening because we’re getting ready to move forward with the branch office,” Carl explains. “Obviously, he’ll be holding down the fort, doing some hiring in the Springs, but we’re going to need a couple people who can serve as go-betweens. Make sure there’s consistency across both offices.”
I sip my water. “Makes sense. We already have clients we work with long-distance in Pueblo and the Springs. It’ll help us establish a stronger connection.”
“While opening us up to a larger market,” Milo adds.
“Exactly,” Carl says, eyes sparkling.
Derek clears his throat. He’s a big, burly business rancher type. The kind who wears a bolo instead of a tie and has clearly lived here all his life. “We’re only just looking at spaces,” he says. “Probably downtown, but there’re some possibilities on the north end. The initial travel demands shouldn’t be too intense, but once we open up, there might be a lot of back and forth.”
Carl chimes in. “We’re looking into corporate housing, or maybe even purchasing a company condo.”
“Of course, whatever makes sense,” Milo says without a thought.
I’m a bit slower to jump in. Not because I’m distracted—for the first time in weeks, my full attention is on Vesper Financial. But what Carl and Derek are actually envisioning is starting to hit me. Colorado Springs is about an hour drive from Denver when the traffic and weather are perfect. It’s also possible to fly between the two cities. I travel down there periodically for the odd business trip, but this sounds more... involved.
“I know this is asking a lot as far as time commitment,” Carl says. “Which is part of the reason we’re approaching you two first, since neither of you has a family.”
My chest shouldn’t sting when he says that, but it does. “Well, uh, Lydia?—”
“Oh, you’ve got to meet Anton’s wife. She is something else,” Carl says, grinning at Derek. “Multi-entrepreneur, expanding her business exponentially.” He shakes his head. “I hope Vesper can achieve a shadow of her growth.”
“She’s really gone to the dogs,” I mutter, knowing it’ll elicit laughter from my boss. He and Derek start talking about their pets, and I sit back in my chair. Watching Milo track their every word and gesture, waiting for the right time to react or chime in. Just the way I did when I started working with Carl right out of college.
For some reason, I don’t feel like I have the energy for it now.
I pull out my phone, schooling my face to look like I’m replying to client email. Then navigate to my texts with Lydia. According to the ovulation calculator I downloaded a few days ago, her next fertility window should start tomorrow. She hasn’t indicated she’s ready yet, which is fine. I don’t want her stressing about this—I meant what I said about focusing on the fun. But if my instincts are right and our relationship has changed the way I think it has... it seems like it couldn’t hurt to be strategic.
So far tonight, Carl’s talking more about dogs than finance.
Lydia
?? Why wasn’t I invited?
The evening would be 1000% better with you here.
Lydia
Where are you guys? Maybe Caprice and I should get a table and “bump into” you.
Elway’s.
Lydia
Oh, blah. More wines than desserts.
I chuckle. Sometimes Lydia can be delightfully predictable.
Go out with me tomorrow? I’ll buy you dessert anywhere you want.
I mean, if you’re feeling better?
Lydia
Thought you’d never ask.
I am starting to feel like I’ve read every scientific fact and old wives’ tale about conception on the internet. For example, I know Lydia’s in her most fertile window the week right after her period. But one of the many sites that confirmed this also suggested eating fresh pineapple to hasten implantation, or yams if we want twins. Oysters were also recommended for a variety of reasons. There is some evidence to support her staying still for ten minutes after sex, to help the sperm find its way inside her uterus. And I read conflicting reports that if she orgasms right after I come, her cervix will suck up my semen. But I had to stop when I found an entire site devoted to ovulation and the lunar cycle. Even I’m not ready to go there quite yet.
Deep down, I know none of these things will really make a difference. But it’s hard not to aim for some vague sense of control. So Lydia and I have been enjoying fresh pineapple every day with breakfast. Because why not.
But now that we’re officially back in the “fertility window,” I’ll admit, I’m just excited for the chance to get naked with my wife. It wasn’t hard to back off when she first got her period. I needed some time, and she wasn’t feeling good. But then I decided to hold off a little longer, just keep my distance, see what would happen. I wanted it to be her choice to start again. But I also wondered if she’d miss it.
I guess she did. Because the second Lydia walks in the door from work, she’s in my arms, and I’m kissing her. Her hands are in my hair and on my ass, and we both laugh when we nearly fall over onto the couch.
“Do you want to just stay in tonight?” she asks, coming up for air.
“No,” I say against her lips. “I’ve been imagining you in a dress all day. I can’t deny myself the real thing.”
She giggles. “I could just put one on for you to take off right now?”
“Tempting as that is...” I run my tongue along her jaw until she shivers, then push her gently away. “We do have a reservation.”
With a huff, she disappears down the hall to take the world’s fastest shower before disappearing into our room. I feed Heartthrob while I wait, tossing his octopus toy outside until it’s too hot for both of us and he goes in to flop down under the air conditioner.
Lydia emerges after about twenty minutes, and by then I’m pacing with anticipation. But as soon as I lay eyes on her, my throat nearly seizes up. She put on a simple blue and white sundress, exactly as I’d hoped. But oh. My God.
“Does this look okay?” she asks, fiddling with the straps. The dress itself isn’t overtly sexy, but it clearly wasn’t designed for someone with my wife’s proportions. While it perfectly hugs her waist, the neckline plunges so wide and low, it edges on indecent. “It’s a little snug. Maybe I should change?”
“Yes,” I croak, reconsidering her offer to stay home. She looks so goddamn fuckable. I’m already hard. “I mean— no, don’t take it off. Yes, it looks amazing—please don’t change.” My voice actually cracks.
She levels me with the most unexpectedly wicked gaze. Like she’s considering unzipping my pants and taking me out right here. It’s like a lightning bolt to my dick.
I look down, at my watch, just to get myself under control. “We should ah... go. If we’re going to make it on time.”
She picks up her purse and moves toward the door, and my eyes rake over her back. Her bare shoulders. The way the dress hugs her waist, then flares out over her hips. The hem is short, though not as scandalous as the neckline. But it would tease if she were to bend over.
“Wait, Lydia,” I say in a husky voice.
She turns to look at me, and I lick my lips. Because I’m pretty sure what I say next will make her squirm. And I can’t fucking wait.
“Before we go...” I swallow. “Take off your panties.”
I see every thought march across her beautiful face. What are you, nuts? Why would anyone do that? I’m not taking my— Then I watch a slow blush make its way over her cheeks as she realizes what I’m asking. “You mean go to dinner without...?”
She can’t bring herself to actually say it. And just that has my pants so tight I’m not sure how I’m going to walk. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”
She searches my face again, waiting to see if I’m joking. I make sure my expression says I most certainly am not. A minute goes by, and she’s clearly weighing my request against her own comfort. If she says she doesn’t want to, obviously I’m not going to make her. Six months ago, I would never have even made the suggestion. But so much has changed in our relationship. I have never felt bold enough to ask her this, but you can bet I’ve fantasized about it.
“We’re short on time, Lydia . . .”
She presses her lips together. Then slowly sets down her purse and reaches behind her, lifting the skirt of her dress very purposely where I can’t see. She looks right at me, and then with one slight movement, a pair of blue satin and lace panties fall to the floor around her ankles.
I am salivating. But I offer my hand as she steps out and I bend to retrieve them, tossing them to the little table where we leave our keys and other sundries. She looks at them almost wistfully, then opens the door and I follow her out to my truck. A neighbor two houses down waves from where they’re mowing their lawn, and we both nod at a man walking his corgi down the sidewalk. But all I can think about is my wife’s bare pussy under that dress.
I open the truck door and whisper in her ear, “This could be a short dinner.”