Chapter 40 Please, Don’t Disturb #2
I nod toward the bedroom. “Packing.”
“For?” Her eyes narrow. “I thought the office was closed.”
“Well,” I say lightly, “if memory serves, I just took an involuntary three-week break.”
I step back, grip the top of the couch, and vault over it.
Not my smoothest landing—but it gets the job done.
Her face scrunches, half amused. “Seriously?”
“Mi vida,” I say, sprawling beside her, “you knew what this was when you signed up.”
I pull her into my side, arm easy around her waist.
She flushes. “I guess I just… got used to this. Us. Like this.”
“That doesn’t have to change,” I say, steady. “We can stay right here as long as you want.”
“Mmm. Tempting.”
She shifts closer, relaxed, content.
“I’m hungry,” she announces, like the conversation never happened.
I smile into her hair. “What’s your craving?”
“Some curry would hit.”
“You got it.”
I don’t move yet.
Neither does she.
There’s nowhere else we need to be.
It’s December 22nd.
Two days since the inquiry folded. Two days since I got my name back.
The headlines are quieter. Not gone, but dulled. Emmett’s office hasn’t called. The board’s moved on to their next crisis. Wilde Media is officially on holiday blackout.
But me?
I’m still here. Watching her move through the condo like she hasn’t cracked my life wide open.
Harlee’s stretched out across the couch, her back half-turned toward me, one leg bent, the other draped across my lap.
Hair tied up, soft grey tunic grazing high on her hips.
There’s a Rubik’s cube in her hands, twisting and snapping like it owes her something. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it. It’s just how her mind moves when the rest of the world tries to slow her down.
Her foot flexes in my lap as I rub lazy circles into her arch, half-distracted, half-hypnotized by the way her toes twitch every time I hit the right spot.
Our Christmas tree glows in the corner.
A real one.
We picked it out last week—argued in the middle of the lot because she wanted fat, chubby branches, and I wanted height. Ended up with a crooked middle-ground we both pretended was our first choice. Now it stands there, lights tangled perfectly, ornaments a little uneven. Ours.
She talks while she works the cube—about her sister, about the zoo lights they used to visit with their mom.
About everything except what she wants.
And I’m watching her now, half-laughing at the cube in her hands, half-tucking this moment away. Because it’s not enough.
Not for her.
She deserves a city that doesn’t shrink her. A skyline she hasn’t memorized yet. Movement. Space. Air.
I flip my phone over for the first time in what feels like hours.
Six o’clock.
I lean down and press a kiss to the hollow of her foot—soft, unhurried—before sliding her legs off my lap.
She hums in protest, but I don’t say a word. Just stand, stretch, and head toward the bedroom.
The condo senses the shift. Lights brighten softly, following my path down the hall.
I open the closet, reach for the storage shelf, and pull down the weekender roller bag. No hesitation. The zippers slide open like this has been waiting to happen.
Her voice floats from the couch, casual but laced with suspicion.
“Babe?”
I don’t answer.
Drawer by drawer, I move through my closet—shirts, sweaters, essentials—each piece folded and dropped into the bag with practiced precision. Like this was always on the calendar.
It’s not until I’m rolling up socks that I hear her steps behind me—barefoot, quiet, curiosity weighing heavier than sound.
I glance up.
She’s leaning against the doorframe, Rubik’s cube still in her hand, thumb pressed into the edge like it’s the only thing keeping her from interrupting me. The white square catches the light as she rotates it absently.
“Where are you going that requires an overnight bag?” she asks, curiosity dancing in her eyes.
I can’t help the smirk. “You mean we?”
“We? Who’s we?”
“We—as in you and I.”
“Me? Since when was I going anywhere?”
“Since I booked us a flight out.”
“A flight? A flight where? Who said anything about a flight?” Her voice rises with each question, the cube spinning faster in her hands.
“You’re not going to let me surprise you, are you?”
“Uhm, not when the only clothes I have at your place are yours,” she says, motioning to herself as the tunic slips off one shoulder. “And this? No.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, dropping my charger and laptop into the bag. “I’ve got you covered.”
She steps closer, peeking over my shoulder at the roller bag on the bed, arms folding. The hem of her tunic inches higher. “That bag’s looking real small, papi. How you plan on fitting my shit in there?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“August, you are not about to have me in these streets in hoodies and panties. It’s the middle of winter.”
I wet my bottom lip, eyes sweeping the curves barely concealed by the tunic. “That’s actually not a bad plan.”
Her eyes narrow, challenge sparking. The Rubik’s cube clicks as she sets it on the dresser.
“Ven acá,” I say, laughing as I reach for her. Come here.
But she doesn’t move.
We lock into a silent standoff, tension crackling in the air. Her hip cocks to one side, defiant.
I tilt my head, watching her.
“Qué pasó?” I murmur, quieter now. “You gonna make me come get you?”
After what feels like an eternity, I lunge.
Harlee takes off down the hallway, laughter echoing as she runs. My longer strides eat up the distance between us. She doesn’t get far before her feet slip on the hardwood.
I catch her just as she crashes into my chest, knocking the breath out of both of us. Her laughter—bright, chaotic—fills the space as I scoop her up.
Caveman-style, I carry her to the couch and toss her onto the cushions, climbing on top of her.
My hands find the hem of her tunic as I tickle her mercilessly.
Harlee kicks and squeals beneath me, laughter turning breathless as she tries to escape. Her curls fan out across the cushions, wild and untamed.
“Stop, stop!” she gasps between giggles, chest heaving against mine.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, my beard grazing sensitive skin as I inhale her scent—vanilla, cocoa butter, and something warm and spicy that’s all her. Both of us breathing hard, laughter still tangled between us.
Her hands curl into the front of my hoodie. Mine stay steady at her waist, grounding instead of wandering.
“You’re trouble,” she murmurs.
“You knew that already,” I say, brushing my nose against hers.
For a second, it feels like the world narrows to this—her warmth, her smile, the way she fits so easily against me.
We stay like that for a minute—just long enough to forget everything else I had planned.
My phone buzzes on the counter.
We both freeze.
She pulls back just enough to squint toward the sound. “Was that…?”
I glance at the screen and grin. “That would be the ride I called.”
Her laugh breaks loose, incredulous. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Nah, baby—I was dead serious. Let’s go.”
I push up off the couch, grabbing my phone as I move. She lingers a second behind me, and when I glance back—
“Is that our ride?” she asks, eyeing my phone.
I nod, already moving. “It is. He’s outside.”
I step back into the bedroom, tossing a few more things into the bag as I go. I zip it up, sling it off the bed, then glance at her once—slow, deliberate.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” I say, voice low, like I’m daring her to test me.
Her brows lift. “Ten—August—”
I step in, quick, landing a light smack against her ass as I pass. “Nine now. Move.”
“Wow,” she calls after me, already turning toward the bedroom. “This is how we’re starting the trip? With threats?”
“With efficiency,” I shoot back.
A beat.
Then, louder—
“And don’t come out here looking crazy.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely about to look crazy,” she mutters from down the hall. “Because apparently I’m packing for a mystery destination in under ten minutes.”
I shake my head, grabbing my keys, a grin pulling at my mouth.
“Eight,” I call out.
“You’re not counting down!”
“Seven.”
“August!”
When she reappears exactly seven minutes later, Harlee is dressed in an oversized Hillman letterman jacket, leggings, and a sweater that looks suspiciously like it came from my closet—finished with a pair of Jordan 11s.
“See?” I say, dragging my eyes over her. “That wasn’t so hard. You look amazing. As usual.”
“I look unprepared.”
I close the space between us in two strides, hook my finger under her chin, and steal a kiss—soft, but deliberate.
“Cada vez que te miro, me enamoro más.”
I catch the curiosity sparking in her eyes—and I eat that up.
As I turn to grab the bag, she keeps going. “You might want to tell me where we’re going. For all you know, I could be a terrible travel partner. I’ve never gone on a trip with you. I snore. I hog armrests. I take way too many pictures. What if we run out of things to talk about?”
I laugh, reaching for my coat and sliding into it. “Nah, hermosa—we’re not part of that 24%.”
“What 24%?”
“The ones who don’t survive the trip,” I grin, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
“You could plan every minute, steal all the blankets, snore like a chainsaw—”
I step closer, my hand settling at her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.
“—and I’d still want you right next to me.”
Her lips twitch, but she’s trying to hold her ground. “You say that now. Wynter will tell you I am an anxious traveller, and most people regret going anywhere with me after the first 24 hours. 48 if I’m lucky…”
I shake my head, eyes still on her.
“There’s nowhere in the world we could go where I wouldn’t want you.”
A beat.
My thumb drifts just slightly, catching her attention.
“Even when you start doing that thing—” I nod faintly, eyes softening, “right there. When you overthink and that little furrow shows up.”
A small smile tugs at my mouth.
“I love that part too.”
I dip my head, pressing a kiss to her hair, then tilt her chin up, catching her lips—warm, grounding.
“I’ve got you. Here, there, and everywhere in between.”
Her shoulders relax, hazel eyes softening when they open again.
“Okay, Dr. Seuss… you done?”
I grab the roller, my keys and lock up the condo before we make our way out the door and to the waiting car.
At street level, I feel the buzz of her energy matching mine.
“You know,” I murmur into her hair, “I’ve never been more excited about a trip in my life.”
She looks up, those hazel eyes softening. “Really?”
I nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hell yeah. I get to go with you. Now—are you ready for an adventure, beautiful?”
“Not that I have much choice in the matter,” she mutters. “I’m basically being kidnapped.”
A low chuckle slips out of me—soft, under my breath.
The driver opens the trunk and relieves me of the roller. I help Harlee into the backseat, closing her door before sliding in on the other side.
My hand goes to her thigh as she goes through her usual safety checks—seatbelt, door handle, then the belt again.
I don’t rush her.
Don’t comment.
Just watch her finish.
She finally looks up at me.
“So…” she starts, that playful note back in her voice, “any hints?”
I smirk, draping my arm around her shoulders. “Nope.”
I pop the p just to rile her up.
“You are truly exhausting,” she says, rolling her eyes.
She loves me.