Chapter 43 #2
He beams, and his grip on me tightens. “That’s brilliant. See, we’d make an excellent team.”
His obvious joy and pride at having come up with his own plan for his own life, that involves something he really believes in, fills me with the biggest, warmest love for him.
I reach up to cup his cheek. “It’s good to see you this fired up and excited. Maybe you’ve found your purpose.”
“I never would have got to this without you. Sooo…” He circles his other arm around my belly, clasping his hands against my hip, and leans in.
“How about you work on it with me? I’ve had two meetings with the guy already.
Of course we need to get it all nailed down with official proposals and budgets and everything.
But he’s virtually implied it’s a done deal and that I can executive produce it. ”
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
I turn my head away slightly and look back at him out of the corner of my eye. “Are you offering me a job? Is my royal, influential, possible boyfriend offering me a job on his new global TV show and thinking I’d be okay with that?”
“I’m very excited about the possible boyfriend part of that sentence.”
He rocks us from side to side. “But, on a professional level, yes, I am offering you a job. But not because I’m doing you a favor.
Because you’re the best person for it. And I would be absolutely fucking thrilled and privileged to work with you and learn from you.
I think our brains go well together, even though yours is about four thousand times smarter than mine.
And I think this could be the most fulfilling job of our lives. ”
“Fulfilling job and fulfilling life?” I say it almost to myself. “The holy grail?”
He leans in, his forehead brushing against my hair, and I lean into him. “Yes, the holy fucking grail.”
The fresh scent of his laundry detergent is a stark contrast to the sunbaked earth and dust I’ve inhaled these last three weeks.
Should I do this? Take this plunge with him? My life, my heart, my career? All my eggs in one Oliver-shaped basket? It sounds like a terrible risk. If even one of those things went wrong, I’d lose everything all at once.
“I still have three weeks on this contract.” I shift to look up at him. “I have to be here, in Yemen, till then.”
Oliver takes me by the upper arms, dips his head to bring his eyes level with mine, and looks right into me. His eyelids flicker rapidly like he’s giddy with disbelief. “So that’s a yes?”
“I’m saying that, three weeks from now, you might have changed your mind and not want to do any of this with me.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He swivels off the sofa to stand, scooping his arms under my backside and lifting me into the air.
With a squeal of surprise, I fling my arms over his shoulders and press my cheek against his. “But we won’t see each other for all that time. So you might come up with a better idea while I’m gone.”
“Not a fucking chance.” He plants a loud smacker of a kiss on my cheek.
“I’ll use that time to get everything on this project set up for when you get back.
But I will need regular consults with my lead reporter.
” He drops my feet onto the floor. “Like, every night, when you get into bed, you have to call me.”
Part of me wonders what the hell I’m doing agreeing to any of this. But the rest of me is buzzing and alive with the exhilaration of stepping into the unknown, into a thrilling, exciting adventure I could never have dreamed of.
I rest my hands on his shoulders. “Every night from bed?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. And they have to be video calls. I need to see this face.” He pulls me close enough to rest his mouth against my ear. “And maybe some other bits too. I love you, Lexi Lane.”
His words and his breath against my skin make my whole body hum with love and lust and hope.
“I’ve missed you so much.” My voice catches as an unexpected lump rises in my throat. “I love you too.”
And our mouths are together again, in a kiss full of love and belief in a future not just for ourselves, but for the good we can do together.
“Sir.” The flight attendant’s voice comes from the rear of the cabin. “So sorry to interrupt, but the pilot says we need to take off in the next five minutes or we’ll miss the available slot and could be stuck on the tarmac for hours.”
It’s the last thing I want to do, but I wriggle out of Oliver’s arms as we stand.
“Go.” I rise to my toes for one more quick kiss. “I’ll call you tonight.”
Heart pounding, head swirling, I turn toward the door the attendant is opening and, with one final wave back at Oliver’s beaming face, I skip down the steps toward the waiting car.
I didn’t know it was possible to be simultaneously elated and yet also unbelievably sad.
But the three weeks will go fast if I fill the time I have left here with the best stories The Sentinel could have ever wished for from this assignment, while also working on ideas for the new series in my spare time and my nightly calls with Oliver.
The wait to be with him will be hard. But I’m absolutely certain it’ll be worth it.