Chapter 32
“Sorry, what’s the timeline on the glass installation on the west quadrant?” I ask for probably the third time in the last hour. Joe’s answered me every time, but my mind has been somewhere else. Namely, in bed with Andie, every second the cameras weren’t hounding us over the weekend. I shiver like her fingers are dancing down my spine right now, under the hot Atlanta summer sun.
“I’ll email you the timeline,” Joe says, completely unaware of just how far away I am at the moment. “You can take a look when you’ve got more time.”
I give him a grateful smile, then bury my face in my hands, knocking my hardhat off my forehead in the process. Mistake. Every time I close my eyes, I see Andie against the window in her loft, riding me until we both came. How she tossed her head back as she clenched around me, letting out a cry like I’d either broken her or saved her. Maybe both.
“Mr. Watson,” one of the hotel employees calls my name from the pathway to the dome. “Someone’s here to see you.”
I look up from the blueprints I’m pretending to focus on. My breath freezes in my lungs—Andie is a vision standing among the greenery. She’s in her typical work attire: a flowing skirt that hits her mid-calf and a simple blouse with three little buttons at the neck.
Despite the fact that Steve and Cassidy are right behind her, I can’t help the smile spreading across my face. My heart swells about three sizes larger in my chest. She smiles back as I approach. “Did we have plans today?”
She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “You left before I was up this morning. I thought maybe you’d have time for lunch?”
I check my watch; it’s close enough to lunchtime, and it’s not like I would ever turn down a chance to spend time with Andie, even if it means dealing with the cameras. They spent the weekend following us to the grocery store and making us play a stupid card game where the suit we drew informed the “secrets” we told each other.
“I always have time for you,” I tell her honestly. “Do you want to see the dome before we head back inside?”
She nods eagerly, and I smile so hard it hurts. We stop at a workbench outside the dome, where I outfit her with a hardhat and a safety vest to match my own.
“I think helmets are your look.” I tap on the brim of the hardhat.
She flips me off, and I laugh as we walk deeper into the dome.
As I explain how I designed the triangular panels two-thirds of the way up to open and close with an innovative hydraulic system to help keep the temperature inside the dome perfect year-round, I definitely don’t check out the sway of her hips as she examines my work up close.
“What do you think?” I ask, hands on my hips, as we stop at the far edge of the dome. It’s quieter here, construction on this end is mostly finished.
“It’s beautiful.” She runs her fingers along one of the soldered points where several triangles meet. “But I’ve always thought that.”
I tilt my head in question, my brows drawing together.
She waves it off with a smile. “Heidi showed me the drawings months ago; they plan on doing a lot of weddings here, so they reached out to event planners in the city for advertising.” She chews on her lip as her eyes meet mine. “Something about it felt familiar to me, and when you told me you were an architect working for the resort, well …”
I let out a puff of laughter. “I didn’t know I was trying to impress you before we even met at the altar.”
She sighs, looking at the web of metal arching overhead. “I keep thinking I should have known it was yours earlier. It really is beautiful, Kit. I designed a dress inspired by it after I saw the drawings.”
“I’d like to see that.” I give her a warm smile, amazed at how our souls knew where to find each other this whole time, even when we were adrift. Anchors in the storm.
“There you are!” A booming voice shatters our quiet corner of the dome. I turn to see one of the Colonnade’s bigwigs marching my way. He’s as wide as he is tall, and he’s forgone the safety gear, wearing a suit that likely costs more than all my clothing combined. His face is red from the heat and presumably the walk from the main building, and he mops the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief he pulls from his pocket. Diamond cufflinks sparkle in the sunlight.
He swats his way past Steve, giving him serious side-eye. I doubt he’ll sign the release for Cassidy, either.
I greet him with a firm handshake. “What brings you out here today, Clyde?”
“Big Boss Hammersmith just called to talk about the Montalcino build.” Clyde’s gaze slides to Andie, then back to the camera. Alarm bells go off in my head.
I clear my throat and gesture to her. “This is Andie. My wife.” She looks at me fondly when I say it, and I know my stupid grin matches the one on her face. “Steve and Cassidy are here filming … a documentary.”
Clyde looks between us and blinks. “I didn’t know you were married.”
I scratch the back of my neck, searching for the right answer. “It’s new.”
I’m still in love with you, Andie Dresser.
None of this is new. It’s so old it’s embedded in my bones and inked under my skin. Andie has always been it for me. The difference is now she’s finally starting to let me in, to see it too.
As though he’s already forgotten Andie’s here, Clyde sets his gaze on me. “Hammersmith won’t be happy to hear you’ve gone and settled down.”
I frown. “What does it matter?”
“He’s still annoyed that you chose to take this job.” Clyde smacks me on the shoulder.
Ah, fuck. It’s not like I’d planned on keeping my nuptials a secret forever, but I’ve never had any priorities other than the company since I was hired. It made the big bosses feel safer picking me to lead projects, knowing I’d be at their beck and call without anything holding me back. It meant a level of financial security younger me could only have dreamed of. It meant I could take care of Mom, even if I was far away.
“I guess Collins is fucking up in Montalcino.”
And I know where this is going. I cross my arms over my chest and widen my stance. It takes everything in me not to step in front of Andie as a shield. “I have to be here.” I shake my head. “My mom is—”
Clyde brushes the thought aside with a flick of his ring-heavy hand. “You know how Hammersmith is. He wants the best, and you are the best.”
I rub my hand over my jaw with a sigh, suddenly exhausted. For years I’ve been the Colonnade’s yes man. It’s always been something I’ve been more than happy to be. But today, it feels heavy across my shoulders. I can’t bring myself to look at Andie, but my body screams for her to touch me, to ground me, to let me know she’s here.
“Like I said, I just got off the phone with him.” Clyde’s voice is too loud; he’s standing feet away and yelling like we’re in a crowded train station. “Collins is fucking up, and he wants you to fix it. You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a C-suite job in it for you.”
I clench my jaw as I look at the dome I’ve been working on. It’s the closest to home I’ve been—knowing my mom is an hour’s drive away. Patrick and Jamie invited me to watch a game next week. And now I know how Andie saw me in the lines of this structure before ever knowing I was in Atlanta. It all feels a lot like roots twining their way through the soil under my feet.
Clyde turns to Andie and says with a slick grin, “You’d like to live in Italy for a while, wouldn’t you?”
Goddammit.
“Clyde.” My tone is low, a threat lying in wait. When Clyde returns his attention to me, I say, “If Hammersmith wants me to fix it, he can come ask me himself.”
I don’t doubt he will, either. But it should at least buy me some time. Time to convince Andie how I feel. Time to make sure I wouldn’t jeopardize my job with a rash decision. Time to finish filming this damn show, whose clock is up in less than two weeks now.
“If you don’t mind”—I reach for Andie’s hand, twining my fingers in hers—“we were going to eat lunch. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Clyde chuckles like I’m a fool but leaves us to it. Cassidy runs after him, so she can get her release signed. Steve stays with us, though.
I lead Andie out of the dome, shedding our hardhats and safety vests as we depart. Her silence scares me. As we walk, I explain, “Montalcino is a centuries-old estate.”
“You’ve seen it?” she asks, her eyes on the ground. A little line appears between her brows.
I sigh, wishing I hadn’t been the cause of it. “They asked me to go after Paris, but I turned them down for Atlanta.” Remembering my mom’s advice to let Andie in, I add, “They weren’t thrilled with my choice.”
“So, are you going to go to Italy?” she asks. Her voice is small and distant and I fucking hate it. I could strangle Clyde for having that conversation in front of her.
With a frustrated groan, I run my hands through my hair. A C-suite position would set me up for life, financially. It’s a level of security I still crave after all this time. Unable to look at her when I say it, I frown at an oak tree nearby. “I don’t know.”
Andie stares at her feet. When I think the silence might kill me, she mumbles, “You didn’t even tell them you were married.”
I utter a curse under my breath, directed at Clyde. We need to be alone. My hand finds hers, and I tug her off the path toward that oak.
“I’m not dressed for a hike,” she complains. Good. At least she’s talking. Steve is fumbling to get through the brush, thank God.
I pull her around the trunk of the tree and pin her against it, a hand on either side of her head. She gasps, but her hands find my stomach, hot through the worn fabric of my Henley. They make me heavy, ready to settle into our spot against the tree instead of itching to get away. Our mics are still on, but after Clyde refuses to sign a release, I doubt much of this encounter will be usable anyway.
“I didn’t tell them I was married,” I echo her earlier sentiment. “Of course I didn’t. It was for a reality TV show my mom coerced me into signing up for. And my bride has been insistent on locking me out.”
“That was six weeks ago,” she counters. “A lot’s changed since then.”
I study her face, searching for a cutting remark she hasn’t said out loud. Nothing. Her eyes are clear and locked on mine, her lips gently parted. Soft and open. She meant that. Warmth unfurls in my chest, cascading down my body, and let out the air in my lungs in a heavy breath.
Fool that I am, my eyes fall to her chest, where I can clearly see her nipples tightening under her shirt. I bow my forehead to hers and let out a soft groan. One of my hands falls to her hip, needing to feel how close she is. How real this all is.
“This job,” I explain, “it pays well. It allows me to take care of my mom. Anything she needs. The downside is that I’m not here for her, physically, when she needs help. Then they announced a Colonnade here in Atlanta, and I thought my problems were solved. But my boss almost didn’t grant me the transfer. I had to threaten to quit.”
Andie’s small intake of air nearly kills me. I wince.
“Now Clyde is going to tell him that I’ve gotten married and settled down.” My hand squeezes her hip before sliding to her waist. “Andie, I grew up with nothing. I’ve fought incredibly hard to be where I am now. I’ve given up a lot along the way.”
“I know,” she murmurs. Of course she does. If anyone understands the desperation of moving past their circumstances, it’s her.
“In the past, if they told me to relocate to Italy, I’d be on a plane tomorrow.” I’m being honest, saying things out loud I’ve never dared think about before. My fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug gently, sliding the fabric between them. “You’re right—a lot of things have changed in six weeks.”
I ignore Steve crashing through the brush by the tree.
My hand moves to Andie’s jaw, my thumb brushing her lower lip. Her eyes stay locked on mine. We’re closer now than we were six weeks ago—she’d have never let me touch her like this weeks ago—but I still feel like I’m reaching for her in the dark. “Say something, please,” I beg.
She swallows, and my thumb follows the knot in her throat as it works its way down. Her eyelids fall closed, and she gives her head a small shake. With seemingly a herculean effort, she says quietly, “You know I’d never ask you to stay.”
All the air in my lungs escapes in a rush, my head light. It feels a lot like a goodbye. I wince. “Don’t say that. You have every right to ask me to stay.”
Her lower lip quivers and she looks away. “I know what this job means to you.” She shrugs. “I know you wouldn’t ask me to give up my business, either.”
I curl my fingers into the bark on the tree, savoring the rough bite into my flesh. She thinks a lot of me, to say she knows I wouldn’t ask that of her. I’m not sure I have it in me to be so selfless, not now that we’ve found each other.
With a heavy sigh, I say, “It’s all hypotheticals at this point. Let’s just … have lunch.”
Andie clears her throat primly. “I just remembered—I have a client meeting at one, and I have to leave now to make it on time. Maybe next time?”
She doesn’t have a client meeting, and she hasn’t had one for a while. It’s why she’s so worried about the money from the show. “Andie, please. Stay in this with me.”
Her eyes grow wider, making her look remarkably like a scared animal I’ve just backed into a corner.
“Please,” I beg. “Talk to me.”
“I will.” She presses her fingers into my chest, her eyes on my throat. “As soon as I even know what to say.” Her eyes find mine. “It just hit me that you travel for work, and I—”
“I’ve told you I travel for work.” My voice pulls taut, ready to snap at a single ounce more pressure.
“You did,” she agrees.
Before I can make my case—that I’ll still be at her beck and call, that I’ll take care of her even if we’re a world away—she presses her lips to mine. It’s a slow and gentle kiss, with her opening to me, offering herself up. The only thing that gives her desperation away is how she clutches my shirt in her fists. I wish it did more to soothe the anxiety climbing up my throat.
“I just need some time to process,” she whispers.
“Process.” I run a thumb along her jaw. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. But you came to have lunch with me. Let’s have lunch.”
Her eyes soften.
“I know you’re hungry.” I can’t keep the edge of desperation out of my own voice as I try to lighten this conversation up. “And I really don’t want to deal with your grumpy ass later because you forgot to eat.”
She takes a deep breath, and I watch the rise and fall of her chest. She wants to run, I can tell. But she’s the bravest person I know, so she stays. “Okay,” she agrees. “Lunch. And I do not get grumpy when I’m hungry.”
“Sure you don’t, sweet potato.” I smile as she slips from under my arms. She tosses me a hesitant smile over her shoulder when she finds her way back to the path to the resort. I force myself to take air into my lungs and follow.
I’m not sure how I could bear to be away from her for months at a time, maybe flying her out occasionally to visit. I’m sure I know someone who’s involved with the fashion scene in Milan; that could be a draw for Andie to join me in Italy and I—
“Hypotheticals,” I mutter to myself as I catch up with her, then pick up her hand.
We pause for Steve to catch up before heading to the restaurant.
The reality of my job is that I will eventually have to leave Atlanta. I’ve always known that. I told Andie I travel for work; she knows I’ll have to leave too. I’ve been taking care of my mom from afar for a long time now. I just need to show Andie I can do the same—be there for her even when I can’t be nearby.