42. Meg
42
MEG
I was barely outside Roman’s office when I got a text.
BB: Hey. Missed talking to you this morning. Three days and you have me hooked on our morning coffee chats.
I texted as I walked to the library, craving the smell of leatherbound books, and pretending I had my life together for the day
Me: You have no idea how good that makes me feel.
BB: Tell me.
Me: It makes me wish I was right there next to you.
BB: You’re making it difficult to concentrate here.
Me: Then stop saying things that make me respond like that. I make myself sick.
BB: I know, this giddy feeling is a little nauseating. Hopefully your day so far has been nemesis-free.
I opened the library door and entered without looking up.
Me: Let’s not talk about him. I’d rather hear about you missing our morning chat.
I didn’t get to send that text. Because the next thing I knew, Byron’s hand circled my waist to keep me from crashing into him. And for what felt like the two hundredth time, this man had me propped up against a wall to make sure I didn’t fall flat on my face.
For a solid five seconds, no, make that ten seconds, we were locked in this mutual gaze, drinking each other in, perhaps calculating how much heat this contact could generate before we combusted into a fiery ball of lust.
“Hey,” I stammered, ignoring the delicious shiver coursing down my spine, surreptitiously sending the text to BB before slipping the phone into my bag.
Byron took a very small step back, his hand sliding from my waist as he tucked his phone away, right as it dinged, announcing a new text.
“A dangerous sport, this walking and texting,” he said, those azure eyes blazing into mine.
“Your phone just dinged, don’t you want to answer that?” I asked, my gaze slipping to his lips.
“Nothing that can’t wait,” he assured me. “But let me not interrupt you texting your boyfriend,” he added, his intoxicating scent of soap and spice curling around me like a trap.
“Don’t be absurd,” I muttered. “How would you know who I’m texting?”
His gaze lingered, slow and deliberate, his eyes tracing every inch of me. A small, devil-may-care grin quirking his lips. “Who else could make you breathe like you just ran up ten flights of stairs, Meg? And let’s not talk about the flush in those cheeks.”
I bristled, my eyes dropping to the growing evidence in his pants. “Then you must be texting your girlfriend because it can’t be me you’re so happy to see.”
Byron closed the gap between us again, his body radiating heat. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, his voice low. “I guess that leaves us with only you. But what’s your excuse?”
“I would know if my cheeks flushed. Now, you’re just making stuff up.”
Undeterred, he leaned in. “I’m not. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
I inwardly flinched. “I see, you’re right back at charming the co-worker to secure a spot on the project because, without my say so, you’re out.”
Byron stepped back, this time a good bit, his gaze falling to the wooden floor. When he looked up again, the smile in his eyes was gone, replaced by a quiet defeat. “Is that really what you think I’m doing, Meg?”
Of course it wasn’t. But how did I tell him that I was scrambling for a way to stop him from affecting me the way he did. And the only way I knew how to do that was by throwing out assertions I couldn’t even justify to myself.
“You know what?” I muttered. “Forget I said that. I’ve been going through some things, and my life should be pretty simple. But suddenly it’s... not. I’m just being an idiot.”
“Already forgotten,” he said softly. “What’s got you so rattled?”
“Where do I begin? Ever since Isabel left, everything has gone to shit, and it’s like I have no control over what’s happening. It’s insane.”
“Are you upset about your mom making me lunch?”
“I’m not my mom’s keeper, Byron. She can do what she wants. But you’re very good at charming people because she thinks you’re the bee’s knees, and she’s not easily charmed. A free weekend at the Belmont Hotel? Do you have any idea how my dad is going to freak when he finds out?”
“I’m sure, by then, things will have settled down and everything will be back to normal, don’t you?”
“How the hell do you think that’s going to happen? I can’t get Isabel to text me more than a few words at a time. Let alone convince her that she needs to come back because everyone misses her so much.”
His fingers brushed my cheek, hooking a stray curl he gently tucked behind my ear. “What if I told you I had a plan?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Well, the plan is still under construction, and if it pans out, everything will be okay.”
“And if it doesn’t pan out?”
“It will,” he said, and I believed him. “But you are part of this plan, and I would like to talk to you about it. You let me know when.”
I suddenly had this urge to fold into him, and for him to tell me everything would be fine. “I never really thanked you for taking care of that Elio freak. So, thank you. You literally saved Pops’ Pizza Place.”
“Yes, you were pretty pissed that day,” he said with his Byron smile. “But you’re welcome. And if you’re interested, there’s still that bottle of Chianti we can crack open with lunch.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll skip lunch and work in the library for a while. I have a lot of stuff to look up while I’m here.”
There was something in his gaze, soothing yet enough to set my pulse ablaze.
“Then I’ll leave you in peace,” he said. “And you have to eat. I’ll get Sophia to bring your lunch here. Text me if you need anything, okay.”
With that, he left, quietly closing the library door behind him, and I stood there just taking in the silence, desperate to get a grip. My phone dinged with a text.
BB: Here’s a song for you…
Attached was the song Let It Be by the Beatles, and I wondered how BB knew to send me this song at that very moment. I let the music wash over me, listening to the lyrics telling of hope, and finding peace in difficult times.
By the time the last chord faded, silence settled back inside the library, and I was left standing there, trying to sort through the turmoil inside.
Suddenly, there was this odd sensation buzzing under my skin, like a cocktail of giddy excitement and pure, unfiltered fear. Then, out of nowhere, it hit me. And it was both the best and the worst thing to ever happen.
Was I falling in love?
My knees might have buckled a smidgen at that thought.
I decided to look up symptoms of indigestion. Who was to say Web MD wouldn’t put my concerns to rest?
But there was also another pesky little thought that wriggled its way to the surface. Even if I was half onboard with the whole falling-in-love thing, there was the matter of who exactly I was falling for. Byron or BB?
You have questions, I’m sure. Well, I had questions, too. And immediate answers elude us both. My only grace would be to steer clear of Byron. At least until I had this feeling figured out.
I decided to bury myself in work, hoping that by the time I was done, whatever was messing with my head would have quietly sorted itself out. And if it just vanished ? Well, that was a win I’d gladly take.