Chapter 2 #2
“Not really. During office parties, I guess,” I say with a shrug.
“I bet if you put a few little tables and chairs out there, people would use them during breaks and lunch.”
“Go ahead and order some, if you’d like.” What did I just say? Who the fuck am I right now?
We step into the elevator and she looks up at me. Blue has always been my favorite color, and her eyes are the prettiest shade I’ve ever seen. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to spend company money on my silly ideas.”
“It’s not a silly idea. It’s an outdoor space in New York that we aren’t utilizing.”
“Okay, I’ll find something nice.” Another huge smile comes my way. A few curly locks of red hair have escaped her fancy twist. God, she’s gorgeous.
Her phone dings, and when she looks at the screen, she frowns.
“Shit,” she mutters under her breath. I chuckle and her head snaps up.
Those blue eyes go wide, and her pouty lips slightly open in horror.
“Oh god, I’m sorry. I’m trying really hard to watch my mouth, but honestly, it’s going to be a challenge. ”
“As long as you don’t swear at clients, I’m not too worried about it.”
She scoffs. “Maybe you aren’t, but my mom and my best friend lectured me for an hour each about it last night, which is ironic considering they’re just as fluent in swearing as I am.”
I smirk and point at her phone. “Don’t forget whatever you were swearing about.” The elevator opens and we walk toward the front doors of the building and out into the sunlight.
“I just need to reschedule an appointment I have at four. It’ll only take a minute.” She hits a button on her phone and holds it up to her ear. “Hey Billie, I need to reschedule my physical therapy session today—”
“Don’t do that,” I interrupt. Her eyes meet mine. I thought she was making a date yesterday, but she was scheduling a fucking physical therapy appointment? Shit. I feel like a fucking asshole.
“What?”
“Don’t cancel your physical therapy appointment.”
“But it’s before the office closes for the day.”
“It’s fine. Really, please. PT is usually a pretty important thing.” I have no idea why she’s in physical therapy, but I don’t want her to miss it because of a job she didn’t have when she made the appointment.
“Um, okay. Never mind, Billie, I’ll be able to make it after all.
Okay, see you at four.” She hangs up and smiles at me again before moving toward the coffee shop.
When we’re in line waiting to order, she asks, “What time do you usually finish for the day? I don’t want to make my appointments too early. ”
“Officially, five. There may be a few days here and there where you might end up having to stay later, but I try not to make it a habit.”
She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “What time do you usually leave?”
“Seven or eight.” Or eleven. I’m usually home by midnight so I can still get five or six hours of sleep before waking up early to work out for an hour. Some nights I get home in time to enjoy a beer and a baseball game or something, but mostly I work and sleep.
“Well, I’ll see if Billie has anything later than five. I know her office is open later than that, but I don’t know when she leaves, so I might have to switch to someone else…” She trails off, biting her lip somewhat anxiously.
“Amelia.”
She looks up at me questioningly when I say her name.
“Alex.”
Fuck me, I like my name on her lips far too much.
“Do you like Billie?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Then make your appointments whenever you can with Billie and we’ll work it out. How often do you go?”
“Once a week. Twice if I push myself just this side of too-hard.”
“What happens if you cross to the other side of too-hard?”
“Last time, I was stuck in bed for three days.”
My curiosity is killing me, but I don’t want to overstep. We finally make it to the front of the line and place our drink orders. I add sugar and cream to my cup and stand with her as she waits for her drink.
“I got hit by a car a while ago, and it messed my leg up,” she says quietly.
“Shit. Should you be walking and standing so much?” My heart thuds wildly in my chest, worried she’s in pain.
“It’s fine, Alex. I can’t do multiple flights of stairs very well, so hopefully the elevator doesn’t break down anytime soon. Most of my heel collection is gathering dust at the moment, which is tragic.” The barista calls out her drink and she takes it with a sweet, “Thank you.”
I can tell she’s not telling me something. And it’s probably none of my fucking business, but I can’t stop myself from needing to know. We step outside, but I grab her arm gently and move off to the side of the walkway. “What else, Amelia?”
She tilts her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“That car. What did it take from you?”
She’s silent for a minute before answering. “Dancing. I started in preschool and, well, it was my whole future before the accident. I still love it, but I’ll never be able to dance like I did before. And please, don’t say you’re sorry, Alex. I know people mean well with that, but—”
I reach out, taking her free hand in mine.
“I promise I won’t say it. Ever.”
She nods softly, and we stand there for too long with our hands touching, but not long enough. Reluctantly, I release her, and we return to work.
It’s only her first day, but I already know my life is better with her in it.