“Coming right up.” He loads two in the microwave and turns it on.
I pour coffee into a couple of mugs, then add a packet of Splenda to his the way he likes, and cream to mine because I like the color I get at the end. “Here you go.”
After we have a couple of sips, the microwave dings. David pulls the pizza out and serves us. I take a small, experimental bite. It’s actually not bad. The cheese has hardened a bit compared to yesterday and the crust is slightly chewier, but it’s still edible.
“Nice,” I say.
“Told you.” He grins. “Mom thinks it’s gross, so we never got to do it when she was around. If it weren’t for her, Dad and my brothers and I would probably have had pizza three times a day.”
“Wouldn’t you get sick of it?”
“Are you kidding? Depending on what you put on top, it’s a whole new experience! But Mom disagrees…which is weird, because she’s a quarter Italian. You’d think she’d be into it.”
“I think I like it better than cereal or bagels.”
He grins. “Then we can eat like this all the time.”
My heart does something funny at the way he speaks, like this is going to continue forever. Then I shake my head, deciding that’s not what he meant at all. I’m just being too loose with my interpretation.
“We should get going if we don’t want to be late,” David says.
“I should probably take my car.” I’m not saying it because I want to be away from David, but because I don’t want myself to continue to have loose interpretations about his actions and words. Or weird feelings about his throat. It’s just an Adam’s apple and some skin.
“Okay.”
His ready agreement is disappointing. Did I expect him to insist on sharing his car? Why am I being contrary?
You need more coffee.
That. Plus I’m slightly hormonal.
Aunt Flo hormones aren’t supposed to make you notice things about your boss that way.
Shut up.
David gives me the passcode for the underground passageway, telling me to use it just in case. Nodding, I leave before David does. I always arrive in the office at least twenty minutes early because I can get so much work done while it’s still quiet.
Once I’m out of the Batman tunnel, I consider making a discreet loop around his mansion to see if any reporters are still out, but then change my mind. What will I do if they see me and decide to give chase? Do I want to make the news again, this time in one of those slo-mo highway chases?
I shudder. Nope, off to work. The reporters will give up soon enough if I continue to evade them.
Not too long after I settle in and have downloaded the day’s email, David walks by my desk. As always, I set his agenda, check for any messages that require his immediate attention, flag upcoming events he needs to attend and make a list of executive memos and PowerPoint presentations I need to finalize. “New phone” gets added to the list.
Then we have our morning meeting. I tell David about all the items he has scheduled for the day, plus any memos and analysis he needs for them. For some reason he seems slightly distracted, but there are times when he has a lot on his mind. I do my best not to stare at him too much or notice how gorgeous his eyes are when he smiles. The desk between us helps. We’re, like, spaced. And I can look at other things, such as the photos next to his laptop.
“Erin, do you mind handing over your apartment keys?” David asks.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Your keys. So I can send someone to get your things.”
“Don’t you think my place is okay by now?” God, I hope so. Not just for me, but for everyone living in the apartment complex. It can’t be pleasant to have a mob around the building.
“Hard to say. Even if the paparazzi aren’t there in a big group, some of them could be lurking around. They know you’re an easier target to get to than me.”
“Am I going to be at your place much longer, you think?” I don’t want to impose any more than absolutely necessary.
“Probably. I mean…we are ‘engaged.’”