He paused. “I wrestle with my decision to leave. I’ll hate myself forever, but I do it. I probably have a fiancée. And there’s probably a war on. We live completely different lives, struggle with the unfairness of it all.”
Sewanee was smiling so wide her jaw ached.
“Thirty years later, we cross paths.” He gestured at the casino. “We’re back here. So much has happened. So much sacrificed. And yet, here we are, together at last.”
Sewanee tilted her head. “Engh,” she began, but Nick held up a hand.
“But. I’ve some mysterious disease for which there’s no known cure. And I die. No HEA!” Smiling victoriously, he held out his hands as if he’d set a beautiful table and wanted her approval.
Sewanee chortled. “Bravo! And the Romance version?”
“This one’s easy.” He stepped closer. “I blow off my flight. We go upstairs. What happens is . . . well.” He whispered huskily, “Page sex.” She laughed. “A fantasy come to life, isn’t it? Next day, we part, but you . . . you’re preggo, aren’t ya? Cut to: One Year Later. A job across the pond. You bundle up your–our–infant son and show up to your first day of work and your new boss is, wait for it now . . . me. Shocking, I know. You don’t tell me about our son–I don’t know why, exactly, but you don’t–and we agree to conduct ourselves properly at work. Then. One day. My desire overtakes me and I want, nay, I must have you.”
Sewanee giggled, her cheeks pinking. Nick stepped even closer. “I drag you into my office. Lock the door. Sweep everything off the desk, all man-like, lots of growling. I pick you up, set you down on it, right there on the edge. I push up that skirt that’s been driving me mad, open your–”
“Okay, okay, Mr. Fast Learner. I get the picture.”
“You sure?”
“Tease.”
“You have no idea.”
Sewanee took the deepest of breaths. “Then what?”
“Well. After that there’s no way you can continue to work for me. So you quit. I chase after you and . . .” He looked past her shoulder, thinking. “And . . . I offer you money–because I’m a billionaire, of course–money to start the nonprofit you’ve dreamed of starting. Something with kittens. But then I hear, off in another room . . . Is that the cry of a forlorn kitten? Or is that a baby?!”
“Oh no,” Sewanee gasped.
“You have a baby?! You slut!”
“I tell you it’s yours.”
“Jaysus no, not yet. Because you see how I react and I’m an utter wanker–sorry, I forgot to mention that–”
“It was implied, it’s always implied.”
“So I go to my penthouse or castle or some shite and drink myself absolutely rat-arsed. And then . . . and then . . .” Nick blinked helplessly at her.
“You have a brother.”
“I have a brother! A billionaire brother! And . . . ?”
“And he knows the truth about the baby.”
“。 . . How?”
“Because you work together–”
“At the money factory!”
“And after meeting me he puts two and two together.”
“。 . . How?”
“Because.”
“Right. And I finally realize the error of my ways and I come beg your forgiveness.”
“Grovel!”
“I come grovel your forgiveness.”
“And I accept your grovel. Because all my dreams have come true.”
“And we fix everything that was ever wrong with us and we live–”
“Happily. Ever. After,” they finished in unison.
“Grand,” Nick breathed, looking at her in a way that made Sewanee feel like his hands were everywhere on her body at once. She held his gaze. Then he looked down at his shoes. Then at his watch. Then he stuck out his hand. “Alice.”
She took it. “Nick.”
“I leave you as I found you.”
Hardly, Sewanee thought.
Nick stopped a passing cocktail waitress. “Excuse me? Which door do I go out of to get a taxi?”
“Where are you headed?” she asked.
“Airport.”
“Not tonight you’re not.”
“Pardon?”
“Airport’s closed. Can I get you something to drink?”
“What? No, no thank you, what do you mean the airport’s closed?”
“Snow. Can you believe it?”
“Sorry, snow?”