“Well, look at you,” Nate says.

“What?”

“You're look like you're walking on sunshine these days, man.”

I laugh and take a sip of my coffee, then set my mug down on the table. While I wouldn't say that I'm necessarily walking on sunshine, I'll admit that my mood has improved quite a bit recently. The last week I've spent almost all of my free time with Sasha and have loved every minute of it – although, for the last couple of days, something has been off with her. She hasn't seemed quite right. I mean, she's as fun and attentive as always, but I can see that something is weighing heavily on her mind.

I’m trying to be patient and let her work through everything she needs to in her own way. Part of me thinks it's fear. Starting off in any new relationship is a scary thing and I know she's especially sensitive about it. So, I figure that when it gets to a point that she's ready to talk, she will. Until then, I am doing anything and everything I can to make her feel special. To let her know just how much I adore her.

I feel good,” I say. “I mean – yeah – I feel good. Happy.”

“Come on, let me hear it.”

“Hear what?” I ask.

“Let me hear those words you know I want to hear.”

I laugh again. I know exactly what words he wants to hear. I'm honestly just surprised it's taken him this long to ask to hear them.

“You were right,” I say, giving him what he wants. “You were absolutely right about pursuing things with Sasha. You were right about her being good for me and that she adds something special to my life. You were right about everything, Nate. Happy?”

He cocks his head as if he's pondering it and then nods. “Yeah, I think that'll do.”

“Good, because that's all you're going to get,” I say, throwing a pen at him.

He collapses into the chair on the other side of my desk. With Christmas bearing down on us like a runaway truck, the courts are dark, and we don’t really have anything to do until after New Year's. The break is kind of nice, truth be told. But we still have a ton of paperwork and busywork that needs to be done – being a lawyer isn’t all the glitz, glamour, and courtroom drama you see on TV.

“I'm really glad things are working out between the two of you,” Nate says.

“Yeah, me too,” I say. “Thanks for giving me the kick in the ass I needed.”

“Hey, if I can't kick you in the ass, who will? Everybody else is afraid of you.”

“Excellent point,” I say.

“So, is she going home with you for Christmas?”

I shrug. “I don't know,” I say. “We haven't talked about it yet.”

He looks at his watch very pointedly. “Don't you think you should?” he asks. “I mean, the hour grows late, my friend.”

“I know, I know,” I say. “It's – complicated. I don't know if she's even planning on going home for Christmas. I mean, I told you about her relationship with her family – and that they think I'm her fiancé, which only adds to the complications. And let's not forget the fact that my mom and brother still believe she's Christopher's girlfriend.”

He laughs. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

A rueful chuckle passes my lips. I never planned on any of this. I did her a solid by posing as her boyfriend – and had a little fun at her expense – thinking I'd probably never see her again. Yet, here we are, a little more than three weeks later, and I'm totally hung up on this woman in ways I never thought I’d be.

But I can't deny the fact that we fit together. We have a bond – a meaningful connection – that grows deeper by the day, and no matter how many times I try to pump the brakes, it can't be stopped. If anything, it seems to be picking up more speed. And it has me thinking in ways that defy my own logic – in ways I never thought I could.

“Want to hear the craziest thing about all of this?” I ask as I lean back in my chair.

“Umm... you're thinking about proposing to her, having fifteen fat babies, and living a life of domestic, suburban bliss?

I sit back, lips pursed, and look at Nate. The last thing I expected was for him to hit so close to the mark. His eyes grow wide as he stares back at me, and a grin starts to curl the corners of his mouth upward.

“You're kidding,” he says.

I chuckle and open the top drawer of my desk. I look at the small black box sitting there and take it out, tossing it over to him. He catches it and quickly opens the box, whistling when he sees what's inside. He looks at me, back at the ring, then at me again.

“Jesus, Miles,” he says. “You don't fuck around, do you?”

“It's nuts, I know,” I reply. “I mean, it's only been a few weeks and we have all of these lies we have to unravel somehow. And it's not an official engagement ring. It's more like a – promise ring. Do they do promise rings anymore?”

“I think when she sees the size of this rock, she'll promise you anything,” Nate says and laughs, then looks up at me. “You're serious about this.”

I nod. “Yeah, really serious.”

“Wow,” he says. “This from the man who once described marriage as getting a wife and squeezing out a few kids because it'd look good as campaign material?”

I laugh. “Yeah, well, like you said, I haven't mentioned running for office since I met her. I haven't even thought about it at all,” I say. “But, when I think about the future, it's hard for me to envision it without her now.”

“Damn, Miles,” he says. “I never expected things to go this way.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” I reply. “Talk about getting broadsided.”

He frowns as he looks at the ring for a moment before closing the box and tossing it back to me. I can practically see the wheels inside his head turning.

“Spit it out.”

He shrugs. “I don't know, man. I mean, it's all so – fast,” he says. “Are you sure it's real?”

It's a question I've asked myself a billion times. It's beyond fast – it's light-speed fast. At first, I resisted because it seemed too quick. There is no way somebody can fall for another person in the span of a couple of weeks. Right? That's the kind of stuff you see in Lifetime movies or the tabloids – and those marriages have the shelf life of your average house fly.

The more I let my guard down with Sasha, the more I realize just how much she has opened up my mind, as well as my heart. She's made me see the world in an entirely different way. It's disconcerting, at times but very, very real.

I nod. “Yeah, man,” I say. “It's real. At least, on my end.”

“What about Sasha?”

I shrug. “I'm keeping my fingers crossed,” I say. “I mean, I'm ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent sure she feels the same way I do. And like I said, I'm not proposing just yet. Right now, I just want to let her know how I feel. Let her know that I see a future with her – that I want a future with her.”

Nate starts to laugh, which kind of irritates me. Here I am being serious with him, and he picks now to fuck around or make a joke of it? He obviously sees the look on my face and lets his laughter taper off.

“I didn't mean to laugh, Miles,” he says. “Not in the way you might be taking it. I just – I never thought I'd see this day.”

“What day is that?”

“The day when you were ready to settle down,” he says. “To have a real relationship. Get married. Have kids.”

“Honestly, I never thought I'd see it either.”

“You're the guy who was so opposed to marriage not all that long ago,” he says.

“I know, tell me about it.”

“I never thought I'd see the day when you wanted kids, Miles,” he says. “I mean, actually wanted them.”

“Nobody is more surprised than me, Nate,” I say and chuckle. “Kids had never really been a part of my plans. I never had any use for them other than as campaign props. Truth be told, I never even wanted them for that, I –”

A sound at my office door draws my attention and I see Sasha standing there. She's got a stricken look on her face and tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Sasha?” I ask. “What's wrong? Come on in.”

Instead of coming in though, she turns and runs the other way. I exchange a look with Nate, totally confused.

“Shit,” I say, a pit opening up in my gut. “I wonder if she's not on board after all.”

“You better run her down and find out what's up, Miles.”

I'm so perplexed by what just happened that I'm slower on the uptake than usual. Chase her. Talk to her. Yeah, of course. Standing up quickly, I bolt out of my office and run down the hallway. I pass our receptionist, Trish, who looks at me with confusion on her face.

“Mr. Churchill, I didn't –”

“Not now, Trish,” I say.

I throw open the doors and step out into the long hallway outside. I hear the chime of the elevators echo down the hallway to me. I run as hard as I can and hook a quick right, stepping into the alcove that houses the four elevators. The doors are sliding shut on one, and when I jump in front of it, I see Sasha standing there, arms crossed over hear chest protectively, huddled against the back wall, her eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down her face.

“Sasha, hang on,” I say.

I put my hand between the doors and they slide open again.

“Sasha, what's the matter? I don't –”

I step forward, but Sasha quickly uncrosses her arms and points something at me. I only realize a moment too late that what she's is holding is a can of pepper spray. As the stream of it hits me in the face, I drop to the ground, clutching my face, screaming in agony.

I barely hear the sound of the doors chime as they slide shut again over my screams.