Opposite Land
Delaney
Sitting sixteen floors up on Maddox's incredible balcony, I was still marveling at what he'd said. The next coffee?
It felt like a promise, and I was leaning into it, beyond eager to get to know him better.
Plus, that hint of a promise was exactly what the doctor had ordered to lighten my mood after that shock from Paris and my garbage-grubbing disaster.
Before we'd even headed into the elevator, Maddox had pulled out his cell and asked me what I wanted to drink. And when I'd requested a small vanilla latte, he'd asked if I wanted a pastry to go with it.
I had, in fact.
But considering I still had a bunch of restaurant leftovers sitting in Tessa's fridge, ordering more food felt incredibly wasteful. Plus, in my heart, I still believed that I should be the one treating and not the other way around.
So I'd declined.
I mean, it's not like I needed a pastry.
But then, when our order arrived at the penthouse, the delivery guy handed over not only two coffees, but a suspiciously big pastry box.
When Maddox slipped him some cash, the guy left smiling like he'd received one heck of a tip.
And now, here we were – out on the balcony with the unopened box sitting between us on the patio table.
I gave it a suspicious glance. "So…what's in the box?"
"The pastry you wanted."
"But…I told you I didn't want one."
"No. What you said was, I didn't need to order one. That's completely different."
I couldn't help but laugh. "But how would you even know what to get?"
"That's easy." He reached between us and flipped open the box to reveal at least ten different pastries. "I got one of everything." His mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. "And you realize what this means?"
Already, my mouth was watering. "What?"
"If we go for the same pastry, there's gonna be a scuffle."
There was no scuffle – even if, yes, we both gravitated toward the same cinnamon scone. Our fingers brushed while we both reached for it, and I swear, I felt a warm little jolt that made my oversized latte feel cool in comparison.
Yes. Oversized. Because Maddox had ordered me a large, not the small I'd settled for.
This whole thing was like Opposite Land from the way I'd grown up, where I'd always ended up with a smaller share than what I'd been hoping for.
In the end, Maddox and I shared the scone, splitting it in half, before moving on to an almond croissant, which we'd also shared – with Maddox giving me the slightly bigger piece.
Everything was so sweet and delicious, I felt nearly overwhelmed – and not only because of the pastries.
Beyond the balcony's railing, Chicago stretched in every direction – glass, sunlight, and distant traffic, with Lake Michigan glittering pale blue in the distance. A cool breeze rustled my hair, but in the warm afternoon sun, I barely noticed.
The balcony itself was bigger than my entire first apartment, complete with cushioned chairs, sleek planters, and enough space to host dinner for twelve.
But today, it was just the two of us.
I liked it.
Clutching the drink with both hands, I took a tiny sip, savoring the flavor and the view – and not only of the city.
Of Maddox.
The afternoon sun caught his dark hair as he leaned back in his seat, one arm draped casually along the cushion behind him. Somehow, even holding a to-go cup, he looked unfairly sexy.
He wore dark dress slacks and a charcoal button-down with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing the designer watch that probably cost more than my car.
But it was those forearms – and not the pricy watch – that continued to catch my eye. Apparently, rolled-up sleeves were my newest weakness.
Okay, maybe only on Maddox.
Even so, it wasn't lost on me that I still had some paying to do. Yesterday, I'd promised to tell him my story. But last night, I'd stalled during dinner. And even today, I still hadn't started talking.
But the afternoon was so beautiful, and everything felt so perfect as-is that a knot of dread formed in my stomach as I considered what he might think.
The coward in me was already whispering…maybe if we waited 'til the next coffee?
No such luck.
Because the thought had barely crossed my mind when Maddox asked, "So, that story of yours…is this where you tell it?"