Page 70 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

Mac closes her eyes briefly. "Please tell me he's not?—"

"Planning to crash our weekend? Based on the ski gear in his office, I'd say that's exactly what he's planning."

"Perfect." But she's smiling. "Want to tell him the cabin's address is classified corporate information?"

"Already did. He said something about 'liberating romantic spaces from capitalist control.'"

"You know," she steps closer, straightening my tie in a way that makes it hard to think, "for someone who claims to maintain professional distance, you're surprisingly calm about all this."

"All what?"

"The blog. The critics. The fact that your corporate culture consultant keeps causing revolutions and throwing champagne and making you break decades-old pacts..."

I catch her hands where they're still fiddling with my tie. "Maybe I like revolutions. And champagne. And breaking pacts that never should have been made."

"Even if it means risking everything you've built?"

"Mac." I tilt her chin up, making her meet my eyes. "You are everything I've built. The changes, the improvements, the whole damn revolution – it's all because of you. Because you made me see what needed fixing. What I was missing while building walls around success."

"Alex..."

"Come away with me." I rest my forehead against hers. "Let me show you the place where I made promises I'm ready to break. Let me?—"

"COMRADES!" Keith's voice shatters the moment. "The revolution has acquired snow-worthy transportation!"

Mac laughs against my chest. "We should probably?—"

"Handle that? Yes." I steal a quick kiss that turns less quick. "Before he requisitions the company helicopter."

"He can do that?"

"After seeing him teach revolutionary carols to the board? I'm not ruling anything out."

My phone buzzes again – multiple texts:

GRAY: If you're really doing this, then make sure the yacht you’re going to lose has extra staff. I like my eggs scrambled in the mornings.

CONNOR: What he said. Also, I've got dibs on best man. It was my idea to let you have the cabin this weekend.

NONNA GALLO: The pasta sauce recipe requires fresh basil. I've packed some with proper instructions. And remember - al dente is a state of mind, not just cooking time.

MAC'S MOM: Take care of my bambina in the mountains. And maybe talk about grandchildren? No pressure.

EMMA: Your 2PM shareholder call is moved to next week. I told them you're conducting a strategic retreat about corporate culture initiatives. Keith offered to provide revolutionary coverage.

I look at Mac, still in my arms despite the chaos around us, and make a decision.

“The blue cashmere," I text Emma as soon as my hands are free. "And those jeans I apparently own. Pack them."

Because some revolutions start with champagne.

And some start with breaking pacts that never should have been made.

21

THE TRUTH ABOUT TRUST

MACKENZIE

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