“Hey, girl. I’m out ofhere.”
“Gotcha.”
“You’re okay withthat?”
She smiles knowingly. “I saw who came in. It’s all good,Christine.”
“I… are yousure?”
“How long have I worked foryou?”
I scrunch my eyebrows. “Since Iopened?”
“That’s right. And want to knowsomething?”
“What’sthat?”
“I’ve never seen you happier than I do when he walks into this building.Go.”
I stand stunned for a few beats before I give her a hug. She laughs and shoves me out thedoor.
I make a pit stop in the employee bathroom, where I keep a few makeup essentials stashed in the small closet Barrett built for me when we opened theshop.
I freshen up, adding a little blush, some lip gloss, and brush through myhair.
I smooth down my dark green and blue plaid button down shirt, one that I actually stole from Andy the night of Margarita Madness when he took it off after he panicked, thinking I got vomit on it. I offered to wash it and never returned it. No shame. I fix my dark gray camisole, also not ashamed to realize that I have a tiny bit of cleavage and check out my ass in myjeggings.
Don’t judgeme.
Everyone doesit.
And it’sAndy.
My feelings for him are growing to scarylevels.
Satisfied, I walk back into theoffice.
Andy’s fiddling with his phone, one leg crossed over the other, ankle to knee. He has his bottom lip pinched between the thumb and forefinger of the hand not holding his phone and his knee is bobbing up anddown.
The moment he hears me walk in, he lifts his eyes to me, does a slow perusal of my body, and slowly stands, sliding his phone into the pocket of hisjeans.
“How is it that you’re always so beautiful?” he says, reverence in his voice, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, his palm resting on mycheek.
The breath catches in mythroat.
Then.
“This divorce can’t happen soon enough.” His voice is low, husky and,ohmylanta, I want to crawl inside it and burrow down deep and never come up forair.
IthinkI know what he means butyet…
“What?”
“You heard me,” hemurmurs.
Idid.
But I almost want to hear itagain.