Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Shelby
I stare at my inbox like it might suddenly blink to life and give me what I’ve been waiting for—something, anything from Spencer.
It’s been two weeks since I slipped out of his bed in Quebec City and hurried back to my hotel room. Two weeks since I left him a note on the pillow, telling him I’d send him the article for review. There’d been so many things I wanted to say, but I chickened out in the end. Though I did sign it, Love Shelby , I hope he understands our few days together meant more to me than I might say in a quick goodbye note.
Worried that he might wake up and chase me down, I didn’t even take the time to shower. I tossed my things into my suitcase and escaped to the airportas quick as possible. Lucky for me, there was a seat on an earlier flight. I was in the air before heevenwoke and realized I’d skipped out on him.
I hope.
I did send him the article I wrote. Three days later. Professionally written, carefully edited, and with my heart hidden between the lines.
And I haven’t heard a single word from him since. I know he got it, I put a confirm receipt on the email.
Not a thank you. Not a red-ink edit. Not a rejection.
Just silence.
I must admit, I’m feeling a little wham-bam-thank you-ma’am. And it’s my own fault. I allowed myself to ignore all mynormalrules for first dates. I accepted a dinner date with little knowledge of the man other than watching him work and asking him a few questions. Hell, he asked me to join him for the weekend because he wanted to rectify his ladies-man reputation. Sure, we were both in the same place for work, and it made sense to have a meal together.
But he called it a date.
And I slept with him.
Not only that, but I also fell head over heels for a man I barely knew. I spent two unforgettable days and nights with him, knowing that henormallydated womenmoresophisticated,moreworld traveled, andfar more financially secure than me.
The man is far from my league; we’re in different sports. Yet I allowed myself to be drawn into a fling with a man whose whole purpose for our meeting was to spin an article in his favor. I did my best to crack the facade and paint a picture of a businessman focused on rebranding the family business and not sleeping with all the gorgeous models hefound himself surrounded by each month.
I cover my face with my hands. If it was such a mistake, why does it hurt so much?I’vespent fourteen days eating ice cream or peanut butter by the spoonful, straight from the container.I’vegoogled The Hollis Group and deep-dived into each aspect of the family business. I’ve searched for every image of him I could find, including the ones with pretty women on his arm, and scrutinized his facial expression and body language for any hints of his feelings toward the women.
It felt a little stalkerish.
I also experienced immense relief when every one of those photos showed a woman beaming up at him, but he looked bored.
I might not have heard from Spencer Hollis, but Marika’s been calling me relentlessly, and I’ve been avoiding her. She even tried to make it look like Shaun called to check on me. I’m smarter than that. She just used his phone.
My smart-as-a-whip sister-in-lawhas no clue aboutwhat happened during my long weekend in Quebec, but I’m betting her sixth sense is going haywire.
When I finally gathered the courage, I dug up his work email from the company website and sent two emails to Spencer. Both were friendly, pretending as though nothing happened. That I didn’t skip out and that I didn’t fall in love.
Both have gone unanswered.
I found a phone number and tried calling. It went straight to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. What would I even say? Sorry, I ran off like a coward before you woke up? I panicked because I didn’t trust how much I was starting to feel. My bad. Please forgive me.
That’s not the kind of thing you leave in a voicemail. And I didn’t want to risk his assistant monitoring the call.
I take a sip of my now-cold coffee and wince. Yuk. The rain outside my office window hasn’t let up all day, turning the streets of Kingston into a blur of gray. It matches my mood. I’ve reread the notes I took during those couple of days so many times I practically have them memorized. I started out on this journey thinking I’d simply pen an honest article about a rich man who wanted people to look at him not as a billionaire flirt but as a businessman who happened to be a billionaire. A man whose focus wasn’t on the next woman he’d bed but on restoring his family’s legacy.
And I accomplished what I set out to do. Spencer Hollis is not the seducer his board of cronies believes. He’s not his father. He genuinely cares about the companies and the work he does. He wants to make his family proud.
But if my article has helped to restore his image, why haven’t I heard from him? Even simply to thank me?
I’m convinced he’s angry. Hurt. Done.
I walked out on him without giving him a chance. So maybe that’s what I deserve.
Still, I open my desk drawer and pull out my phone. One last try.
I scroll to the number for his office in New York and hit call before I can talk myself out of it.
It rings once. Twice.
“Spencer Hollis’s office, Linda Morgan speaking.”
I swallow. “Hi, Ms. Morgan. It’s Shelby, Shelby Bailey. I’m looking for Spencer.”
There’s a short pause on the other end. “Hi, Shelby. I’m afraid Mr. Hollis isn’t in the office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
I hesitate because I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. “No, I just… I was hoping to speak with him. It’s not urgent.”
“Well, I know he’s been meaning to reach out. We had the article published in our company newsletter and in a local paper. The feedback has been exactly what he hoped for. I though he planned to talk?—”
A knock, sharp and unexpected, interrupts the conversation. I don’t get many visitors on Friday afternoon.
“Shelby, are you still there?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. Somebody’s knocking on my door. Can you please just tell Spencer I called.”
“Of course, but?—”
“Thank you.”My visitor knocks again, a little louder this time. Somebody’s impatient.
When I turn, with thephone still pressed to my ear, and see who is standing in the doorway of my office, I nearly drop it.
It’s him.
Spencer.
Soaking wet from the rain, wearing that charcoal gray coat I remember from Quebec, hair damp and curling slightly at the edges, eyes locked on mine like he’s not sure I’m real.
“Shelby?”Linda’s voice filters faintly through the phone.
I lower it slowly, ending the call without a word, rising from my chair. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t tear my eyes away from Spencer. He’s holding something in his hand. Is that a printed copy of my article, folded and creased like it’s been read and reread a dozen times?
Spencer’s voice is rough with emotion. “You don’t need to leave a message.”
Hope blossoms in my chest. “You’re here.”
He steps into the office and closes the distance between us in two strides. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”He hesitates, looking unsure. “I thought for sure I screwed everything up. Moved too fast, pressured you. I’m sorry if I did. I didn’t mean to.”
I shake my head, my eyes filling with tears. “I panicked. I thought I screwed everything up, too. I thought you’d be angry because of the way I left, and that you’d never want to see me again.”
Spencer closes his eyes and exhales, a sound somewhere between relief and frustration. “I was angry, Shelby. But not at you, honey. At myself, for not being honest with you sooner, for not telling you how I truly felt.”
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. “I came to ask for the truth, Shelby. In person. All cards on the table. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. And I’m not going to find the answers I need in your article.”He holds it up. “Which is brilliant, by the way. Honest. Sharp. It sets the record straight. But it’s not the whole truth.”
“No,”I whisper, my heart pounding and my body tremblingwith excitement. “It’s not.”
“I need to know if what happened in Quebec meant as much to you as it did to me.”
“It did,”I say, the words barely a whisper of a breath. “I was scared because I felt so much too quickly. I told myself it was just the weekend, just a story, but that wasn’t true. Not even close. People don’t really fall in love that quickly. But I did.”
Spencer smiles, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. “I don’t want just a weekend, Shelby. I don’t want just a short story. I want the late nights and the early mornings and the inconvenient travel and the way you drink your coffee like it’s a religion.”
A laugh breaks out of me, wet, shaky, and full of something dangerously close to joy.
“I want you, Shelby Bailey,”Spencer says, his voice low, measured and jam-packed with emotion. “Even if you run. Even if we have to figure it out across cities and borders. I want you with every fiber of my being. I need you in my life.”
I squeeze his hand, grounding myself in the reality of him standing in front of me, tall, handsome, and he smells goodtoo. “I want you too. And I’m done running.”
Spencer drops the piece of paper, and it drifts to the floor. He cups my face, eyes searching mine. “Good. Because I don’t plan to let you go again.”
And then he kisses me, soft and slow and sure, right in the middle of my office where anyone could walk by, but I don’t care.
I kiss him back with everything I’ve been holding in, with the longing and the guilt and the aching hope that maybe, just maybe, a weekend fling wasn’t all I’d ever have.
When we part, his forehead rests against mine.
“What happens now?”I ask, breathless.
“Now?”Spencer murmurs, smiling. “Now we figure it out. Together.”
And just like that, the weight I’ve been carrying lifts.
“The board loved the article,”he says, a smile spreading across his face. I can see the relief in his eyes,and it makesmy heart swell with pride. “They’re impressed with how it portrays the company and me. They’re finally starting to see that I’m not my father, and that I’m serious about the business.”
A wave of relief washes over me. “That’s amazing, Spencer. I’m so happy for you.”
His eyes shine with gratitude. “And Linda says Hayden is back in town. He’s ready to step up, to take on more responsibility in the company. It looks like things are finally coming together.”
“That’s wonderful news. It sounds like everything is falling into place.”
Spencer takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. “It is. And it’s all thanks to you. You’ve changed everything for me. You’ve given me a chance to show the world who I really am.”
My eyes fill with tears, my heart overflowing with love and happiness. “And you’ve changed everything for me. You’ve shown me that love doesn’t happen on a prescribed timetable. Two years or two days, it doesn’t matter. If it’s right, it’s worth taking a chance on.”
Spencer leans in, his lips brushing softly against mine. “I love you, Shelby. And I’m never letting you go again.”
“I love you too, Spencer. And I’m not going anywhere.”