Chapter Nineteen #2
“Come inside, Cade.” I push open the door. “It’s fine. Your friends are here too.”
He casts me a doubtful glance but holds his pinky up. “There will be no funny business. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“You better,” I mutter as we step into the house.
A stab of embarrassment nicks my skin as he takes in the foyer, so different from the last time he was here. Walking into a house that Mallory built was like being wrapped in a warm hug. Now the pale blue walls that were once covered with photos and vinyl albums are bare and sad.
“It’s different,” he finally says.
That’s one way to put it. It feels and looks as if nobody lives here. I barely do.
“I’ll be back,” I say before sprinting to a spot Cade is not allowed. My bedroom.
I’m about to burst inside when the door swings open, and I run smack-dab into Mallory.
“I disappear for two seconds to find a Sharpie and you’re freaking out.” She grips my shoulders. “Where’s the fire?”
Pressing my finger to her lips, I turn around and point at Cade as he disappears into the kitchen. “Isn’t it obvious? I can’t be alone with him.”
“And why is that?”
“He’s my client, Mally! It’s unprofessional for him to be in my house, but I wasn’t going to make him leave when all his friends are here. I’m not heartless.”
“Are you planning on doing anything unprofessional with him?” When I glare at her, she pulls me into her chest. “Then get in there and talk to your client like he’s an old friend you never had sex with.
Okay? Jo and I need to study for a little bit.
I’d ask you to quiz us, but Adri already offered.
Keep it professional. Baseball talk only. ”
I can do that. Yeah. I love baseball.
“Hey, MalPal!” Cade appears and gives her a quick hug. “Studying?”
“Always, Cader Tot,” she says, pushing us toward the living room by our shoulders. “Kenneth will be here soon. You guys should pick the movie.”
Perching myself in my favorite corner of the sectional, I relax when Cade takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch and grabs the remote. Focusing on my phone, I navigate to the voting website for the All-Star Game in a few weeks, and lock in my votes since today’s the final day for round two.
Cade clicks through the genres. “Do you think Saw could be classified as a romance?”
“You will not bring the spirit of that evil puppet into my house. Only Jo picks horror movies, and it’s not her night to choose.”
Though I missed her last movie night for work, so I don’t know what she chose.
Cade finally stops scrolling through the terrifying thumbnails and navigates to the romance section. This isn’t so bad. We’re talking about movies and nothing even remotely personal has—
“Who was the guy you were with at the game tonight?”
Oh my god.
I cross my arms. “Maybe it’s time for a new rule because that’s a personal matter.”
“So he’s a personal friend.” His lips curl as if he doesn’t know if he wants to smile because he’s teasing me or grimace at the idea of me having a “personal friend.”
But it shouldn’t matter to him.
Still, I ask, “Do you watch basketball?”
“Not often.”
Locking my phone, I toss it aside. “I represent Brett Reynolds, the—”
“Center for the Grizzlies! I thought he looked sorta familiar.” When I nod, his smile splits wide, all signs of jealousy vanishing. “Atta-girl. I always knew you’d be the best agent.”
I hate the way my praise kink purrs at his words, so I focus on voting.
Four pink sticky notes I wrote during his game sit on the coffee table, and he leans forward to grab them.
Ever since learning about his aversion to yellow legal pads, I haven’t used mine.
By the look on his face, I think he appreciates that.
When he’s done reading through them, I sit up. “What did you do for you this week?”
“Is this going to be a weekly question?” Hazel eyes roll, but he obliges me anyway. “You’ll be happy to know I took a nap.”
My butt glides across the couch. “That’s a big self-care activity! How did you feel after?”
He shrugs. “A bit guilty, honestly.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Cade.”
It should be illegal for men to have such long eyelashes, especially when they surround the prettiest eyes. Carefully carved orbs of moss and honey move from my hand on his shoulder and down my arm to meet my gaze. It’s then I realize the lack of space between us.
Rule five has been broken. Back up.
His hand around my wrist stops me. It’s gentle enough to slip out of if I tried, but I don’t think I want to.
“We don’t have to be ten feet apart to have a conversation, Shay.” Releasing me, he moves back until there’s a cushion between us. “You’re clearly great at your job. You care more than any agent I know.”
I’d curtsy if I weren’t sitting down. “Thank you.”
“So why are you working for a guy like Trevor?”
A surprised cough chokes me. This is the third time a client has said something negative about my supervisor. I assumed I was the only one who saw through his fake persona. Still, I don’t answer. My professional line cannot fall.
“I’m not asking you to talk poorly about him.”
My head snaps up. “Stop reading my mind.”
“Can’t help it.” He laughs. “But seriously. Why?”
Flashes of the last year and a half play in my head.
After Cade didn’t come home, I reevaluated the things within my control.
My job and success are controlled by me.
Being the first one in the office, staying up late, and working my ass off are things I can do to ensure my success.
But love? Relationships? No way. I learned my lesson.
“At Permian, I’ll be successful. It’s the best path for the life I want.”
A life of work, work, and more work.
Cade sighs. “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
Happiness and success are the same thing to me. I guess in my own way, I am happy. Happy enough, at least.
“Plus,” he continues, “if you weren’t at Permian, who knows if we would be speaking right now. I’m glad I requested you as my agent.”
“Why is that?”
“Because now you can officially say you’ve met your favorite client.” He leans against the couch with a sly smile. “Me.”
I toss a blanket at his head. “You’re at the very bottom of the list.”
“Yeah yeah. Keep telling yourself that, Agent Shay.”
I’ve missed these moments. I lost a lot the day we ended things, but maybe it doesn’t have to be gone for good. Even if it’s not in the way I once wanted.
Who knows where we would be if things hadn’t ended. Maybe I’d be his girlfriend and a successful sports agent, but now we’re here. And I’m surrounded by constant reminders that there is no other future for us.
Not if I want to be the agent I’ve fought so hard to be.