Chapter Seventeen
An hour before the task force meeting, Bree unlocked her office at the university, ready for some solid straightening, organizing, and other good uses for the nervous energy that had left her unable to stay home.
One hour, she reminded herself. In sixty minutes, give or take, that first interaction would be behind them. In two hours or so, they would be on their way again and she could start putting her world back in order.
And if that world felt a lot less appealing without Spence in it—well—she had survived without him before. She was sure she could make it happen again.
Eventually.
Her office had been spared the destruction that her deadline race had wrought on her apartment, but there were still stacks of papers to be filed, mail to be sorted, and shelves to be cleared. She pulled up a station of Broadway show tunes, cranked the volume, and got to work.
She could do this. And if it took longer than she would prefer—well—she would deal. She and her emotions might not be on the same page now, but she figured as long as she made sure to check in on them regularly, sooner or later she and they would mesh.
Her arms were loaded with outdated reference books and her back was to the door when she heard the voice.
“I never would have pegged you as a Mamma Mia! fan.”
Her grip on the books tightened. Hard corners dug into her arms. She ordered her muscles to relax and her lungs to function as she slowly turned.
It had been almost a month since she had seen him. He wore what she guessed was his warm-weather work uniform of jeans and a powder blue polo that had “James Landscaping” in dark blue script above his heart.
She didn’t dare look at his face.
“Spence.” Damn, her voice was shakier than if she was trying to talk on a wooden roller coaster. “Hi.”
“May I come in?”
She nodded. He hadn’t asked before. The last time he showed up, he simply walked in, closed the door, and turned her world sideways.
She kind of preferred that approach.
He entered slowly, glancing around as if he’d never been here before. Her pulse leapt when he reached back to give the door a push. But when it swung a couple of gentle inches, then stopped, he made no move to close it the rest of the way.
Deep inside her, a tiny flicker of hope faded as fast as it had ignited.
“I, uh, wanted to talk to you about the meeting today.”
“Right. Of course.” She wasn’t going to ask him about the e-mail. Either he hadn’t seen it or he wanted to pretend he never had. Okay. She would be fine, she would get through this, some things were beyond her control, she had to let it go, ommmm, namaste . . .
“I was talking to Alice last night and she said we’ll be voting on whether or not to pursue the expanded version. I, uh, wanted to let you know that I’m in favor of it. But not because of anything to do with your father, okay?”
Her nod was automatic. Her arms ached from the weight of the books, but if she set them down, she would have nothing to hold onto.
“When my dad and I talked about the forest, we never thought about adding in those other parts. But they’re good additions. Both of them. I don’t want to have to cut either of them, and if we can take over that space, it—”
“It’s okay. I’m voting for it, too.”
It was kind of gratifying to know that even though Spence had been the one to catch her off guard, she could still pull out a few surprises of her own.
“You are?”
“Yes. For the same reasons as you are. It’s the better approach.”
“Even though—”
“Even though it impacts my father?” She shifted the books slightly. “I made my decision based on what was best for the project. I did let him know what was happening. He’s not happy, but he is well aware that it’s impossible to please everyone. He’ll find someplace else. And he understands why this is best.”
“That’s certainly not what I expected you to say.”
“The day you first brought in the plans, I was caught off guard. But,” she hesitated, then pushed on, “it was my emotions that bothered me more than the plans themselves.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Trust me, it does.” She managed a faint smile. At least she hoped that was how it came across. Her muscles were still operating somewhat independently. “I do . . . appreciate you coming to warn me, though. That was very considerate.”
“Yeah, well, every once in a while my inner good guy insists on making himself known.”
It was so casual, so Spence, that she couldn’t hold back a short little laugh.
Nor could she keep herself from trying to keep him with her.
“How’s Livvy doing?”
“She’s getting there. The kids, too. It’s up and down, you know?”
Oh yeah. She knew.
She also knew that if she didn’t speak up now, she was going to regret it for the rest of her life.
“Spence, I—”
“You know, you don’t have to keep hiding behind those books. I’m not going to . . .”
His words trailed off. The possible ways he could have ended the sentence—grab you, hurt you, kiss you, make you remember how much you miss me—pounded through her.
“I wish you would.”
It wasn’t until she saw the widening of his eyes that she was certain she had actually said the words out loud.
“Bree . . .”
Slowly, deliberately, she placed the heavy load on the desk.
Three steps away, he swallowed.
You’ll know what you’re supposed to do next.
Heart pounding, legs shaking, she opened her empty arms to him.
“Jesus, Bree,” he whispered, and then she had never in her life been so glad that her office was microscopic because before she could breathe he was holding her, kissing her, running his hands over her hair as if to remind himself that she was real.
“I missed you so much.” She pulled off her glasses so she could see him, but the blur was still there, so she ran her fingers over his face to remind her of every groove, every bump, every plane. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”
“Don’t bet on it,” he said against her neck.
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“I know. I got your e-mail.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
His laughter tickled her ear. “I’m lucky I could remember how to talk.” He kissed the top of her head. “But for the record, you apologize very nicely.”
“Spence. You know I meant it, right?” She had to be sure he was clear on this. “I was wrong to try to make you choose, and I—”
“So was I.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I was making you do the same thing, you know. Choose between your father and me. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You had good reason to think that it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Yeah, well, let’s just say that yesterday I got a pretty powerful lesson in how fast things can change. Especially feelings.”
“How—”
“I’ll tell you later. Bree, listen. Remember when I told you I wasn’t looking for anything serious or lasting?”
She nodded.
“I meant it then. But now . . .” He reached for her hand, clasped it in his. “We’ve got something here. Something real. I want to give it another shot.”
“So do I,” she whispered. “More than anything.”
“There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Furgus misses you, too. He and I talked it over last night. He pointed out that your place is too small for him to visit, and you aren’t at my place often enough. So he suggested that maybe you should move in with us.”
“Live with you?”
“And Furgus.”
“Because you’re only asking for him.”
“Yes,” he said, then, “no.” He breathed in. “I’m asking for me. Because you make everything better. Because I don’t want to be away from you more than I have to.”
She bit down hard on her lip. It didn’t help. Not totally. It stopped her from whispering the I think I’m falling in love with you that was dancing on her tongue, but it didn’t keep it from overflowing her heart and filling her with lightness and happiness and a deep desire to start packing boxes.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I would love to move into your house. And not just because it’s bigger. Or because you’re a great cook.” She kissed him lightly. “Though that doesn’t hurt.”
“Good. Because I still don’t know how you whipped my ass in geometry back in school and if you move in, you might slip up and reveal your secret.”
She laughed and kissed him again, reveling in everything that she had missed for so long.
“I think we might be on the verge of something amazing,” she whispered when she came up for air.
“I think you’re right, Miss Elias.”
She reared back in mock surprise. “What? No argument? Just agreement? I didn’t know it was possible.”
“Yeah, well, you know you’re not the only one who knows how to experiment.”
“Interesting you should mention that. Because I just thought of another theory I’d like to put to the test.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What is it?”
She rose on her toes and spoke against his ear. “Close the door and I’ll show you.”