Chapter 10 #2
As the evening wears on, I can’t shake the thought of what she said back at the hotel before we left, and it hits me hard, because I can’t imagine how that made her feel.
Probably like I don’t consider her someone important enough to know, when over the last six weeks, she’s easily become my best friend.
The one person I want to spend all my time with.
The last thing I think about at night before I fall asleep and the first thing I think about in the morning when I—
Holy shit. Have I been…am I…am I in love with my assistant?
No. No, that can’t be right. That’s not what’s happening here. Josh Calloway does not fall in love. Josh Calloway doesn’t even believe in love. And besides, it’s been six weeks. That would be—
I glance over at Kate. She’s sitting right next to me, but I can’t help but feel like she’s still too far away. I want her closer. I want her body pressed against mine. I want her close enough that I can memorize every freckle on her face. Every streak of gold hiding in those emerald eyes.
She laughs at something someone said, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and my heart lurches in my chest and my brain short-circuits because…yep. That’s exactly what’s happening here.
Oh, fuck.
I tighten my grip on my glass of champagne like it’s a goddamn life raft, because holy fucking shit I’m in love with her. I’m in love with my assistant.
Kate.
The woman I called the wrong name for weeks. The woman I forgot at an arena. The woman who is wearing my jacket right now because I gave it to her when she got cold, like some lovesick fool in those ridiculous movies she got me addicted to.
I need to move. Take a walk. Get some air. Contemplate my entire existence. Maybe jump off a bridge or into oncoming traffic.
I rise from my chair and the second I start to move, my foot catches on the leg of Kate’s chair, and suddenly, I’m tripping.
Not just a little stumble—because of course not.
This is a full airplane-going-down, brace-for-impact kind of tripping.
My champagne sloshes in my glass and is dangerously close to spilling all over her dress, and I barely manage to right myself before I take out the poor waiter behind me holding a tray of dessert.
Smooth, man. You are totally keeping it together right now.
I casually clear my throat like that’s going to erase what just happened and try to pretend I didn’t just have an emotional crisis so strong that it shorted out the part of my brain in charge of motor function.
I steal another glance at Kate, and she’s looking at me, a tiny crease in her brow like she’s still trying to figure out why I’m acting weird.
I throw her a thumbs-up and her brow furrows in confusion, clearly not buying it. Her head tilts slightly and she looks at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m having some kind of episode. Which, to be fair, I might be. Emotional whiplash will do that to a guy.
I have approximately two seconds to recover before she asks what the hell is wrong with me, and I cannot let that happen. If I open my mouth right now, something deeply humiliating will fall out—probably something along the lines of, “Hi, I just realized I’m in love with you and I’m spiraling.”
Nope. Not happening. Time to deflect. Time to redirect. Time to—
“Dance with me,” I blurt.
Her eyes widen. “What?”
Great question, Kate. What?
I can’t back out now. I need to own this.
Play it cool. Act like this was my plan all along.
I summon my most charming smile—totally ignoring the fact that I just almost body-slammed a poor waiter carrying a tray full of tiny, expensive desserts—and extend my hand.
“Come on,” I say, wiggling the fingers of my outstretched hand. “One dance.”
She hesitates for a second, lips pressing together like she’s deciding whether I’m serious, which is fair because I don’t even know if I’m serious.
But then, to my absolute shock, she sets her drink on the table and places her hand in mine. I help her stand and then slide my jacket away from her shoulders, my hands gliding down her bare arms, and yep, I’ve officially lost my goddamn mind.
I’m touching her. In public. Where anyone could see us together. Photograph this momentary lapse in judgement on my part and post it all over the internet. This is dangerous territory, but right now, I can’t find a single fuck to give because her skin feels like heaven beneath my fingers.
I lead her through the crowd and to the spot on the floor where several other couples are dancing. As the violinist begins playing the melody of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” over the foundation of the piano, I can’t help but shake my head and laugh at the fucking irony.
Kate moves the hand that’s not in mine to rest on my shoulder, and my hand goes to the curve of her waist like it belongs there. She looks up at me with those big, beautiful eyes, and—holy shit, how do people do this? Exist next to the person they’re in love with without spontaneously combusting?
I think back to when I was with my ex, but even then, I don’t ever remember feeling like this. Fumbling around like an idiot and feeling the ground shift every time she looks at me.
For some reason, my brain chooses this moment to decide that I need to tell her about my ADHD. About why I’ve forgotten things and why I’ve screwed up so many times. She deserves to know it’s not her, and before I can stop myself, the words come barreling out.
“So…there’s something I need to tell you."
She raises an eyebrow, and I can already see the wheels turning. Like she’s bracing herself for some sort of scandalous admission that she’s going to have to try and fix. “Okay…”
I take a breath. Just say it, man. “I have—” My brain goes blank for a second because she shifts closer, closing what little space was between us and pressing her body lightly against mine, making my train of thought immediately leave the station.
“Chlamydia?” she asks, breaking the silence. I choke on a laugh.
“Jesus, no,” I say, still laughing. She shushes me as people around us start staring, clearly offended by my outburst that just ruined the ambiance of the evening. “I have ADHD.”
Kate blinks.
“I just need you to know that all the times I forgot your name, or left you behind, or just generally acted like an idiot…it wasn’t because you’re not important.
It’s because my brain is basically a browser with forty-thousand tabs open and half of them are playing music and I can’t find them to close them and make it all stop. ”
A smile tugs at her lips, but she stays quiet, allowing me to continue.
“I learned your name the first day, and then my brain went, ‘Hey, let’s put that in the Important file,’ but then it lost the Important file because I got distracted by—hell, I don’t even know, a shiny object?
A weirdly shaped cloud? The fact that Max never takes his goddamn shoes off when he comes into my RV even though he knows wearing shoes indoors grosses me the fuck out? ”
I let out a deep breath to try and stanch the word vomit spewing from between my lips.
“I just—I get so mad at myself, because I do care, Kate. I swear to you, I do. My brain just…doesn’t always cooperate.
” I take another breath, my chest tightening as I lay my biggest insecurity out in the open.
“I don’t want you to think it’s you. Because it’s not. It’s me.”
Kate is silent for a beat, and then—thank god—she smiles.
“So, you’re saying,” she says, eyes glinting. “That details get lost in a very messy, very chaotic filing system?”
“Yes,” I sigh in relief. “Like, the worst filing system ever. I think it’s run by a bunch of raccoons.”
That makes her laugh, and for the first time tonight, I feel like maybe I haven’t completely screwed something up.
She hums thoughtfully, tilting her head.
“Well, lucky for you, you hired the best there is when it comes to keeping things organized.” She squeezes my shoulder, and I take more comfort than I probably should in her touch.
“If your brain raccoons ever lose something important again, just tell me. I’ll help you find it. ”
My chest warms as I let out a deep breath. I finally find the nerve to come clean about the one thing that makes me feel like I’m always falling behind—and she doesn’t judge. Doesn’t make fun. Just says, I’ve got you.
Yeah, you idiot, you love her.
Kate smirks. “You okay there, superstar?”
I clear my throat, pulling myself together. “Yep, fine. Totally fine. Great, even.”
She laughs softly, like she knows exactly what’s happening in my head. And honestly? She probably does, because subtly has never been my strong suit.