And in a way, it wasn’t. This was standard operating procedure. Last Friday she’d covered everything on his desk with Post-it notes.
It was that pesky proposal that had her stomach turning over itself, but she wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.
“Your use of plastic isn’t good for the environment,” Mia said.
“Recycle it.” He still hadn’t looked away from his computer screen. A single pink Post-it remained on the back, and she wondered if he’d missed it.
“You gonna help me get it off?”
“Did you help me the time you put cups of water around my desk like a castle moat?”
She had not.
She took a sip of her coffee, savoring the sweet flavor. He knew exactly how she liked it. Without conscious thought, she let out a little sigh.
She lowered the cup to find his gaze on her face.
A few seconds of silence passed and he leaned back in his leather chair. “Stop thinking so hard and just marry me already.”
She nearly dropped hot coffee all over her shoes. Her eyes darted to the open doorway.
“No one else is here,” he said, guessing what she was thinking.
Still, she turned and closed his door before sitting across from him. She cupped the warm drink between her palms, unsure how to begin.
“Mia.” His voice was low and even.
“Noah.” Hers came out unusually high-pitched.
She kept her eyes on his immaculate desk.
“Look at me.”
Something in his voice forced her eyes to his. He looked at her the same way he always did—with focus, friendly affection...maybe a hint more intensity than usual. But overall, he just looked at her like he was Noah and she was Mia.
So what was it about this moment that had her breath trapped in her lungs?
“Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” he finally said.
That sent an exhale between her lips. “Marriage isn’t a big deal? Insurance fraud isn’t a big deal?”
He pursed his lips and glanced around briefly, as if to confirm his earlier assertion they were alone. “Insurance fraud isn’t why you’re hesitating.”
Dammit, why did he know her so well?
He just watched her for a few seconds. “I usually don’t have to ask what you’re thinking.”
Funny, she felt the exact opposite about him.
“Noah, it’s too much.”
“It’s not. It’s signing a piece of paper. I’ll even let you pay the court fees if it would make you feel better.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the dark ink covering the inside of his left forearm.
Her eye caught on the wordsthe sun will rise and we will try againless than two inches above his wrist. If he slid his sleeve a little higher, she’d see a mountain.
“Don’t focus on the short term. Think about what it could mean in the long run. We do this, what—for a few months, a year?Maybetwo? Until your time comes and you get a transplant? Then it’s over, and what did we lose? Nothing. What did we gain? You took a chance on an opportunity that could lead to the career you’ve always wanted.”
“What didyougain?”