“Always in coach mode, huh?”
He gave me a small smile, eyes still roaming over my features. “It’ll be hard to remember I’m not your coach anymore.” Wes’s hazel eyes were still leveled with mine, his expression hopeful, with small traces of concern at the corners of his eyes like he was waiting for the sky to fall. I traced a fingertip over his cheekbone. The way he nestled his cheek against my hand, the vulnerability in that action, convinced me I’d made the right call to tell him when I had.
“Do you want to talk about work now?”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly.
Our naked bodies were pressed together, and the echo of his “I love you” still hung in the air. I swallowed. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about the magazine,” I said, gathering my courage and looking him in the eyes. “I’ll . . . I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll make it right.”
He searched my face, tracing his fingertip down my side. “We’ll make it work. I can’t imagine many people would care, and maybe you can disclose that you’re in a relationship with me.”
I hadn’t thought about us in those terms yet, and a smile spread across my face, which triggered a smile across his face, and then we were lying there grinning like we were telling jokes and not weighing our ethical missteps.
“If you want to, of course.”
“I’ll disclose it,” I said, unable to stop the smile. “Our relationship.”
“It shouldn’t be that big a deal, right? I’m excited it’s you writing it, but it’s not like a hard-hitting exposé or something, is it?”
A small hurt crept in again, because he was right. I wasn’t breaking some big scandal, even if it felt big to me. “No, but we should have a plan. Ground rules.”
“I can do ground rules.”
“Exactly.” I rested my palm against his chest, the steady beat of his heart so close to me. “Can we hit pause on deciding anything? I need to think through this and talk to someone at work.” I dreaded the conversation I’d need to have with Natalie, but despite my worry, my lips tipped up of their own accord. “I want to do it right.”
Wes dipped his chin and brushed his lips against mine. “Okay.” His hand settled possessively at my back, and he kissed me again. They were the lazy, unhurried kisses we could share because we had time.
I sighed when our lips parted. Everything was out in the open, we were really doing this, and I felt light. “I can’t believe how perfect this feels.”
50
AFTER AN EARLY-MORNING run—and post-run shower—with Britta, I walked into the office with a spring in my step and the taste of her kiss on my lips. I finished tapping out my text in the elevator, ignoring the pile of missed calls. It had felt so good to put FitMi away for the weekend, and I wanted it to last a little longer.
Wes: I know we’re not talking about work yet, but I’m glad it’s you writing about the mentoring program. I haven’t been this excited about something （besides you） in a long time.
“Good morning,” Pearl said without looking up from her keyboard. The massive bouquet of tulips I’d had delivered filled the space with color. I’d tried to apologize in person, and she told me not to get all sappy on her, then muttered something under her breath about Cord minding his own damn business.
“It is good, isn’t it?” The memory of Britta’s soap-slicked body and her cries growing louder and more frantic as I took her against the wall made me want to give everyone a raise, pump my fists in the air, and run a victory lap around the city.
“You seem . . . happier,” Pearl commented, skeptically walking in to hand me a couple of files and a few messages. “They give you an extra scoop of wheatgrass in your protein drink this morning or something?”
“Just a beautiful morning.” I flipped through the messages, pausing on one with Mason underlined three times.
“He’s been lurking since seven. Said he’s been trying your cell and emailing.”
I’d turned my phone off on Saturday night, deciding to give up everything but Britta. I’d given myself permission to not worry about missing a call from Libby, or Mom’s rehab facility. “He’s never in early,” I noted, glancing at the other messages. “I need to talk to him anyway, though.”
“I am tired of seeing his twitchy little face, so please call him back.”
“Do you want me to fire him for you, Pearl? I’m having a great morning. That could only make it better.”