Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Iwake up feeling more relaxed than I have in years.
Not just in my body, though that part is definitely true. My muscles feel loose and heavy, like I’ve melted into the mattress overnight. There’s a faint ache between my thighs, but it’s a welcome one.
My brain feels quiet, too.
That’s new.
“Good morning, Carly,” a voice says above me, thick with sleep.
I blink my eyes open.
My head is resting on a broad chest, my arm slung over his waist. Warm skin beneath my cheek. A heartbeat under my ear. I lift my head enough to look at him.
His hair is a little messy. His face is soft with sleep.
Memories of last night flood in all at once, and my mouth curves before I can stop it.
“How did you know I was awake?” I mumble.
Andrew’s chest moves beneath me with a rumbling laugh. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”
What does he—
Oh.
Oh no.
I bury my face in his chest, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. “Was it bad?”
“It was cute,” he says, trying to reassure me and failing completely. “As was the drooling.”
I try to push off him. “I’m leaving.”
His arm tightens around my waist, keeping me exactly where I am. “No, you’re not.”
He kisses the top of my head, and my whole body betrays me by relaxing against him.
Yeah, no.
I’m not.
We lie like that for a while, tangled together under the sheets, saying nothing. It should feel strange. Maybe it should even feel awkward. I’m naked in Andrew Bennett’s bed on a weekday morning.
But it doesn’t feel strange. It feels easy.
After a few minutes, I prop myself up on my elbow and look at him. Really look at him. His sharp features, the dark stubble along his jaw, the faint lines around his eyes, and the pillow crease still pressed into his cheek.
His eyebrows pull together. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t look away.
So I keep looking. Because I can. Because he lets me. Because some anxious part of me still wants to memorize this version of him in case it disappears. Andrew with his guard down. Andrew soft and warm and sleep-creased.
His hand moves slowly up my back, fingers tracing along my spine. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs.
My throat tightens.
I wish I could read his mind the way he always seems to read mine. I want to know exactly what he means by that. I search his face like the answer might be written there somewhere.
“I want this, Carly.” His hand comes up to my cheek. “I’ve wanted this for a while now.”
I place my hand over his and turn my face into his palm. “Me too.”
His expression shifts, softening in a way that makes my chest ache. Then he pulls me closer, and I go willingly, tucking myself against him.
Oh.
So this is what happiness feels like.
I call my mom the second I get home that morning. She picks up just as I’m walking into the bathroom.
“Hi, honey,” she says, sounding way too cheerful for eight in the morning. “Why are you calling so early?”
I open the cabinet above the sink and pull out dry shampoo, deodorant, and moisturizer. I have exactly twenty-six minutes to make myself look like I did not spend the night fucking my boss.
“I have crazy good news,” I say, putting her on speaker and balancing the phone on the edge of the sink. “I got a new job.”
There’s a tiny gasp on the other end. “Oh my god, Carly. That’s amazing.” I hear a door close in the background. “Tell me everything.”
So I do.
I tell her it’s still at BenCo, but on a different floor. Communications. I tell her about the interview and how I was convinced I had ruined it. I tell her the official papers came through a few minutes ago and that the new salary is better.
“It’s going to change things,” I say, rubbing moisturizer into my face. “I’ll be able to help you more. And maybe, if I’m careful, I can start paying off your mortgage. Not all at once, obviously, but soon. I can help for real now.”
There’s a pause.
I frown at my reflection. “Mom?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, her voice soft. “If I did one thing right in this life, it was raising you. You’ve grown into such an intelligent, kind woman.”
I smile down at the sink. “Thanks, Mom.”
“But I don’t need you to do that.”
I sigh. “It’s okay. I want to.”
“I know you do. And I love you for it.” She takes a breath. “But I mean it. I don’t need that kind of help. I actually have some news too.”
My hand stills halfway to my makeup bag.
“What kind of news?”
“I got a new job.”
I stare at myself in the mirror. “You did?”
“I did.” The smile in her voice is impossible to miss. “At the corner bookshop on Main Street. You remember the one, don’t you? Where we used to go sometimes when you were little?”
Of course I remember it.
I remember the bell over the door, the narrow aisles, the children’s section in the back with the faded rug, and Mom letting me pick one used paperback if she had enough tip money left after groceries. I remember sitting cross-legged on the floor while she browsed the romance section.
“Mrs. Keeps is getting older,” Mom continues, “and she needs more help in the store. She asked me last week. Can you believe that? Me, working in a bookshop.”
My chest starts to feel strange. Lighter, maybe? Like a knot I’ve carried for years is finally loosening.
“Oh, Mom,” I say. “That sounds perfect.”
“It is. It really is. It looks almost exactly the same, Carly. The same shelves, the same little reading chair by the window, even the same ridiculous clock behind the register. I’ll spend my days around books instead of carrying plates until my feet go numb.
” She laughs. “And the pay is good. Not BenCo good, obviously, but better than the diner. Steadier, too.”
I lean against the sink and let my eyes close for a second.
“That sounds dreamy,” I say.
“It is,” she says, airy and soft. “I think it’s going to be really good for me.”
I open my eyes. The woman in the mirror is a mess, but she’s smiling.
“Good,” I say. “You deserve dreamy.”
“So do you, honey.”
Andrew keeps glancing at me.
I pretend not to notice.
To be fair, the meeting has been going on for almost two hours, so I understand if his attention is starting to wander.
Mine certainly is. Legal has spent the last twenty minutes explaining a revised approval process with the help of a flowchart that seems to become more complicated every time they click to the next slide.
Still, Andrew is nowhere near as subtle as he thinks he is.
I minimize the document where I’ve been taking notes and open our internal chat.
Carly Michaels: Do I have something on my face?
His phone lights up beside his hand. He glances at the screen, then at me, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows.
Andrew Bennett: No. Why?
Carly Michaels: You’re staring
One of his eyebrows lifts.
Andrew Bennett: I have to rest my eyes somewhere. It was between you and Paul from accounting
I look across the table at Paul, who is listening to the presentation with his chin tucked against his chest. From this angle, I have an excellent view of the back of his head and the losing battle his hairline has been fighting for the past decade.
Carly Michaels: Must have been a difficult choice. What settled it?
Andrew’s mouth twitches.
Andrew Bennett: Paul can’t do a Yoda impression
I press my lips together.
Carly Michaels: Honored, I am
Andrew lowers his head and covers his mouth with one hand, but not before I catch the smile. A proper one. It changes his entire face, softening it in a way I’m still not used to seeing.
My stomach does a small, embarrassing flip.
When Andrew looks up again, he catches me watching him. Neither of us looks away.
Then someone from Legal asks for his opinion, and the warmth leaves his face so quickly that I almost wonder if I imagined it.
“If we approve this as written, we’ll create a process no department has the staff to maintain,” he says, glancing down at the papers in front of him.
“There are redundancies on every page, and several of the reporting requirements expose us to unnecessary liability. I’m not approving something that will either be ignored or implemented badly, so revise it and send me a new version by Thursday. ”
Silence settles around the table.
The woman giving the presentation clears her throat and nods. “Of course.”
I used to think Andrew was harsh simply because that was who he was. Cold, exacting, and permanently disappointed in everyone around him. Now I understand him a little better.
That doesn’t mean I suddenly think he’s delightful to work for.
I still wouldn’t wish three years as Andrew Bennett’s assistant on my worst enemy.
But I know there is more behind it than cruelty for cruelty’s sake.
People count on him to catch mistakes before they become expensive—for the company, and for the families who will one day call his buildings home.
The meeting finally ends ten minutes later. Chairs scrape across the floor as people begin packing up their laptops and gathering their papers. I close my notes and slide my computer into my bag, deliberately avoiding Andrew’s gaze this time.
I’m almost at the elevators when he catches up with me.
The doors open, and we step inside alone. I press the button for the executive floor, then move to one side as the doors slide shut. Andrew stands close enough that the sleeve of his jacket brushes against my arm.
Neither of us says anything.
For the first few seconds, we both face forward, watching the numbers above the doors. Then his hand closes around my waist.
I barely have time to turn before he kisses me.
There is nothing hesitant about it. No careful pause, no question in his eyes. His mouth is warm and demanding, and when he pulls me closer, my body reacts as though we haven’t touched in weeks instead of a few hours.
My back meets the mirrored wall. I grab the front of his jacket, kissing him back before common sense has a chance to intervene.
This is an extremely bad idea.
We are at work. I am still technically his assistant. Someone could call the elevator at any moment, and the doors could open with his hand on my waist and my lipstick all over his mouth.
None of that feels particularly important until I open my eyes and notice the black dome in the corner of the ceiling.
I pull back. “There’s a camera.”
Andrew goes completely still.
He follows my gaze upward, and the expression on his face changes from desire to quiet horror.
“Fuck.”
I start laughing.
“This isn’t funny,” he says, releasing my waist and immediately straightening his tie.
“It is, though.”
“I’m the CEO.”
“Do you think security got a good angle of your hand on my ass?”
His eyes close briefly, as though he’s trying to summon patience from somewhere deep inside himself.
“Fuck,” he says again.
I laugh even harder.
The elevator slows, and we separate properly before the doors open onto the executive floor. I smooth my skirt while Andrew adjusts his cuffs, both of us trying to look as though we haven’t spent the last minute making out like teenagers.
Thankfully, no one is waiting outside.
We walk toward his office with a respectable distance between us. Once we’re inside, Andrew closes the door and leans back against the front of his desk, folding his arms across his chest.
“I lied earlier.”
“About what?”
“The Yoda impression.”
“Oh, so Paul does have one?”
“No. I simply didn’t want to put in writing that I was staring because I think you’re beautiful.”
Heat rises to my face. I look toward the windows. “Well, I’m glad I narrowly beat Paul. He has excellent posture.”
Andrew shakes his head, looking amused.
“I meant what I said this morning,” he says, his expression growing more serious. “I want to be with you properly.”
“Properly,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
I watch him for a few seconds, taking in the tension around his mouth and the way his arms remain folded tightly across his chest.
“Andrew Bennett, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
His eyebrows draw together slightly. “I haven’t had to use that word in a very long time, but if that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”
I bite down on a smile. “Say it.”
He stares at me.
“I want to hear the words from your mouth.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice in it. If I’m not mistaken, there’s even a little color rising in his cheeks.
“Is it really necessary?”
I continue looking at him until he exhales and straightens.
“Carly Michaels, will you be my girlfriend?”
I beam at him. “Yes.”
His face softens. Then he pushes away from the desk and reaches for me again. Our lips meet, his hand resting against the side of my neck. When he tries to deepen the kiss, I pull back.
“We should tell HR,” I say. “Before someone else does.”
He takes a step back. “I’ve already asked for a meeting this afternoon. I didn’t tell them why. I wanted to speak to you first.”
“Okay. We’ll tell them together.”
“I also want it formally recorded that you no longer report directly to me once you move to Communications. Marissa will handle your assignments and evaluations.”
“Good.”
I pick up my bag from where I left it near the door, but before I can leave, he speaks again.
“Dinner tonight?”
I turn back. He is still leaning against the desk, watching me with an expression that is trying very hard to appear casual.
“I’d love to.”
He nods once, as though we have just finalized a business arrangement.
I put my hand on the door handle, then glance back at him. “You know, I’m going to need slightly more enthusiasm from my boyfriend.”
Andrew closes his eyes briefly.
When he opens them again, the corner of his mouth lifts.
“Get back to work, Carly.”
I open the door, still smiling.
“See you tonight.”