Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DEAN
One month.
It’s strange how quickly a person can become part of your routine.
Not in the dramatic, life-altering way. There hasn’t been some earth-shattering moment where Aubrey suddenly became so vital to my life. It has happened slowly. One ordinary day at a time until now, where I can’t remember what the apartment felt like before her.
Friday afternoons used to mean leaving the office with my mind still occupied by work. By the time Louis dropped me off at the building, I’d already be answering emails in my head.
Now my thoughts wander somewhere entirely different. I find myself wondering whether Liana napped well. Or if I walked into the apartment, would I hear Aubrey singing some song in order to make Liana smile?
I lean back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my jaw as Brady finishes reviewing next week’s schedule.
“And Legal wants your approval before they send the revised contracts.”
“Hmm?”
Brady pauses. “The contracts.”
I clear my throat. “Right. They’re fine. Just send them over.”
He gives me a curious look before gathering his tablet. “You sure everything’s okay?”
“I’m fine. Just need to get home to my daughter.” I told him the truth about Liana on Monday.
Brady nods his head in understanding before he leaves my office, quietly closing the door behind him.
The silence settles over the room.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one wall, giving me a perfect view of Manhattan below, but I barely notice it.
Instead, my mind drifts back to the apartment.
Back to Aubrey.
The first few days after I’d decided to put distance between us were easier than I’d expected. Uncomfortable but necessary.
I kept conversations short. Stopped lingering in the kitchen over coffee.
Every interaction became exactly what it should have been. I convinced myself that was what I wanted.
So, why did the apartment suddenly feel … quieter?
I’m not lonely. At least, I don’t think I am. But I’ve started noticing the absence of things I never realized mattered.
The way Aubrey asked how my day was before I even loosened my tie. How she somehow convinced Liana that diaper changes were the greatest event of the day by narrating them in dramatic movie-trailer voices.
I haven’t heard that laugh directed at me in a week.
That was my doing.
More than once, I found myself standing just outside the family room after getting home, watching the two of them without announcing I’d arrived.
Liana would be sprawled across her play mat while Aubrey lay on her stomach beside her, making exaggerated faces until Liana squealed so loudly that it echoed through the apartment.
It has become easier to observe from a distance than risk getting pulled back into the comfort we created together.
Comfort is dangerous; it blurs lines. I know exactly where blurred lines lead.
The memory of the day in the rain still creeps into my thoughts when I least expect it. Or walking into Aubrey’s bedroom and seeing her half naked in her bathing suit. The split second where every instinct I’d spent years cultivating simply … disappeared.
Followed by an entire night of trying—and failing—to stop thinking about her.
No. I’ve done the right thing.
But somewhere over the last week, distance has quietly transformed into avoidance.
There is a difference.
Avoidance means pretending she isn’t there. Pretending I don’t enjoy talking to her. Pretending the apartment doesn’t feel noticeably colder without her easy conversation filling the empty spaces.
I’m not fooling anyone. Least of all myself.
The moment I open the buildings front entrance door to the sidewalk, Louis is waiting for me by the SUV.
I slide into the back seat while Manhattan glows with the warm amber light that always settles over the city just before sunset.
Traffic inches forward.
Louis glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Long week?”
“You could say that.”
He chuckles. “You’ve been quiet lately.”
“I’ve always been quiet.”
“Not this quiet.”
I look out the window. He’s probably right.
For a while, neither of us speaks.
The silence gives my thoughts room to wander again.
Maybe I’ve overcorrected.
The thought appears so unexpectedly that I almost laugh.
One week of pretending Aubrey is simply my employee has somehow made things feel more awkward than they did before.
I’ve spent so much energy making sure I’m not crossing a line that I’ve built a wall instead.
Perhaps I don’t need a wall. Maybe I just need boundaries.
There’s a difference.
I could ask her how her day was. I could drink a cup of coffee while she finished feeding Liana.
I could laugh at one of her ridiculous stories without imagining every conversation had some deeper meaning.
I’ve lost sight of the fact that attraction doesn’t automatically mean action.
I’m not some lovesick teenager, incapable of controlling himself.
I’m a thirty-four-year-old CEO. Surely, I am capable of finding a healthy middle ground.
By the time Louis turns onto my street, I feel lighter than I have in days.
Almost relieved.
Tonight, I’ll stop acting like Aubrey is a stranger, living in my home.
I’ll ask her how her day went. Maybe tell her about the investor who accidentally presented the wrong slideshow this afternoon.
We can eat dinner with Liana, like we used to.
Normal. That’s all it has to be.
Louis pulls to the curb in front of my building.
“I’ll see you on Monday, Mr. Ledger.”
“Have a good weekend, Louis.”
“You too.”
I step onto the sidewalk, loosening my tie as I make my way toward the doors. For the first time all week, I find myself looking forward to going home.
Not because I have plans. Simply because I’ve finally decided to stop making my own life harder than it needs to be.
I’ll apologize if I’ve made things awkward and just be myself again. The man Aubrey has spent the last month getting to know.
The one who asked about her day or lingered over coffee. Someone who actually smiled once in a while.
I pull open the glass door and step into the marble lobby.
The first thing I hear is her laugh. It stops me mid-step.
It’s light, unrestrained. The kind of laugh that bubbles out of her before she has a chance to stop it. A laugh I haven’t heard in a week.
My eyes instinctively search for her.
She’s standing near the seating area beside the concierge desk, one hand resting on Liana’s stroller while absent-mindedly rocking it back and forth. Liana is awake, happily chewing on her toy, completely captivated by whatever conversation is happening above her.
Aubrey’s face is bright. She’s wearing jeans and a cream-colored sweater, and her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail that hangs over one shoulder.
God … when did I stop really looking at her?
Then I see him.
He’s standing comfortably beside the stroller with a coffee cup in one hand, talking as though they’ve done this a dozen times before.
He’s close enough that if Aubrey leaned forward, their shoulders would touch.
She laughs again, and he grins. My chest tightens deep inside.
It’s ridiculous.
They’re just talking. People talk all the time. I tell myself to keep walking … to let them finish.
Instead, my feet slow.
He says something, and Aubrey shakes her head with a smile.
“No, I don’t think so.”
He laughs. “I don’t believe you.”
She playfully rolls her eyes. “I promise.”
There it is again. That easy smile. The one I spent the last week pretending I didn’t miss.
Except it isn’t meant for me anymore.
An uncomfortable pressure settles beneath my ribs. It’s not pain, but something hotter, something heavier. It spreads through my chest with alarming speed, climbing into my throat until breathing suddenly feels … different.
My jaw tightens. I don’t even realize I’m clenching it until my molars begin to ache.
Why is he smiling at her like that? How long have they been standing here?
Have they been talking every afternoon this week? Did they meet while taking Liana for walks?
Questions begin firing through my head so quickly that I can’t catch them. Each one somehow worse than the last.
He shifts his weight while he rubs the back of his neck. It’s a nervous gesture. One I recognize immediately because I’ve done it myself.
He’s about to ask her something. Every instinct inside me sharpens.
“No pressure,” he says with an easy smile. “But I was wondering”—he hesitates just long enough to gather his courage— “if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight.”
Time suddenly stops as the sounds of the lobby fade into the distance. The concierge answers a phone while the revolving doors spin behind me. Someone rolls luggage across the marble floor. It all disappears beneath the roar of my own heartbeat.
He’s asking her on a date.
Aubrey blinks. “Oh …” A faint blush creeps into her cheeks. “I …”
She looks surprised, but it seems like she’s actually considering it.
A violent surge of emotion slams into me so fiercely that it steals every coherent thought from my mind.
Jealousy, so raw and immediate that it’s almost blinding.
Mine.
The thought flashes through my head before I can stop it. The word horrifies me almost as quickly as it appeared.
She isn’t yours. She has never been yours. You made damn sure of that.
For an entire week, you barely looked at her, and now another man has simply walked through the space you left behind.
He smiles patiently, waiting for her answer.
Aubrey opens her mouth.
My body moves before my brain catches up. I don’t remember deciding to walk toward them. I only know that, suddenly, I’m there.
Close enough to see his smile falter and Aubrey’s eyes widen in surprise.
I wrap my hand around the stroller handle. “There you are.” The words come out calm, like they belong to someone else.
Aubrey’s expression changes almost instantly to confusion. “Dean …”
He glances between us. “You must be—”
“I employ Aubrey.” The sentence leaves my mouth before I can stop it. The moment it does, I wish I could take it back.
A flicker of hurt crosses Aubrey’s face. It’s small but unmistakable. It hurts almost as much as seeing her laugh with another man.