Page 14 of You & I, Rewritten

“What, you’re not a fan of everyone orbiting around you with endless compliments and bright ideas, just dying to please you? That doesn’t seem fun to you, Teddy Graham?”I said that out loud…Great.

They both stare at me. Klair has a look of horror plastered across her face while Graham gives me the slightest smirk.

“Ah,” he says, leaning closer and turning to Klair. I get a whiff of his cologne as he does and pick up notes of tobacco and vanilla, historically a very dangerous combo for me, but I’ve never smelled anything quite likethis.“I see Mr. Cowen has been enjoying the complimentary open bar you so generously arranged for us this evening.” Now turning that gorgeous mug in my direction, he adds, “It’s usually a sign to call it night when you think mocking colleagues is the right move.”

My heart is suddenly in my throat, threatening to choke me to death, and honestly? I’d welcome it if it got me out of this moment. I think he can see the pure panic radiating from every inch of my body, so he places a soft hand on my arm and gives me the smile that nearly stopped my heart the other day.

“I’m just messing with you, Will.”

I exhale, letting out the breath that’s been trapped in my throat this whole time.Oh thank God.Klair’s eyes flit from Graham’s rather large hand which is still firmly placed on my forearm up to mine and suddenly, I realize no one is speaking.

“Well…I should probably check in with the event planner to make sure that everything is good to go for tear down,” Klair says as she stands up and starts to walk away.No, No, NO!I mentally shout at her. “I’ll check in on you boys in a moment.”

And with that, she disappears back into the hustle and bustle of the event, which weirdly has gotten its second wind since I last looked, leaving Graham and me in the continued awkward silence.

As if he can read my thoughts, Graham reaches over, grabs a few monogrammed bottles of water from behind the bar, stands, and says, “Follow me.”

Which, of course, I do.

He leads me away from the hum of the event and around the corner to a makeshift seating area out of the moved lobby furniture. Every movement of his is fluid. He exudes an awareness of the space he takes up in this world and just moves through life so sure of every step he takes. For someone who literally slams into every wall and is the human embodiment of physical chaos, it’s refreshing to see someone who moves so effortlessly.

Before he sits, he slowly removes his satin suit jacket and neatly folds it over the arm of the sofa, revealing an even more powerfully toned body than I could have ever imagined.

“Sit,” he says, pointing to the open seat next to him, which I do immediately. Maybe a little too forcefully, because the combination of my awkward movements and the two of us being over six feet tall and all legs cause my thigh to brush up against his. The closeness causes a tingling wave of electricity to radiate across my body that is almost impossible to ignore. “Is everything ok?” he asks quietly but full of concern, as if he’s nervous to hear my answer.

I don’t know what the right thing to do here is: Do I downplay it all and tell him that everything is fine? Do I answer honestly and explain what I’m truly feeling? Or do I tell him all I want to do is rip him out of that tux.

“Well, let’s see…aside from the crippling fear that I look like a complete failure to my team because my one author didn’t show up tonight?” I say with as much dramatic sarcasm as I can muster. Leaning closer, I look him dead in the eye. “Or maybe the fact that I’m relieved it didn’t take you too much longer to figure out a clever and convenient way to get me alone.”

There is no taking a statement like that back, drunk or not. Despite the alcohol coursing through my veins, everything about this moment snaps into crystal clear focus. I want him. I want Graham Austin in every which way imaginable and when I see his perfectly stoic face crack into that perfect smile at my clunky forwardness, I could combust right then and there.

I’m well aware that I’m invading his space and leaping head-first over every professional line, but tonight, I’ve passed the point of caring. For once in my life, I don’t want to obsess over consequences or insecurities. Graham is without a doubt the sexiest man I’ve ever seen and if I have anything to do about it, those delicious lips will be on mine any moment now.

“Your author didn’t show…so what? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been stood up by an author who slipped down the creative rabbit hole. And honestly? I’m glad she didn’t show up.” I scoff at this feeble attempt at making me feel better. He’s not the one who looked like an idiot tonight. “It probably means she’s lost in some story idea based on feedback you’ve given her. At the end of the day, she’s providing you updates and chapters, right?” I nod, not breaking eye contact. “There you go…that’s all anyone cares about. Who cares if she didn’t show up to some lame dinner party. There will be plenty of time for that once the book is published.”

Not convinced that his words made me feel any better, he continues, “Will, believe me when I say this isn’t on you. No one is upset. No one views you any differently. Things happen.” Not realizing how badly I needed to hear these words from someone I admire professionally, I lean back and physically feel my shoulders relax. He’s right…of course he’s right. Lana is a grown woman, and I can’t control the actions of others. For the first time this evening, my anxiety wanes and I’m able to exhale.

“Thank you, Graham.” I angle my body so I’m looking at him more directly. “I don’t know why I get like this sometimes…where the little things become overwhelming, and the big things become insurmountable.”

That confession was a lot deeper than I intended to go with a man I just confidently assumed would be making out with me by now. He doesn’t appear to be bothered by the sudden turn our conversation has taken. Per usual, Graham is looking at me with his full focus, giving the gravity of our conversation the attention it deserves.

“I really am passionate about this job and sometimes, I can’t separate my emotions when I have important things going on. I guess that’s not the best thing to admit to someone you work with and um,technicallyfor, huh?”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Will.” He literally puts his hand up in my face and drunk-me is tempted to high-five it. I don’t. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with recognizing how we each react to stress and anxiety. Trust me when I say I’ve been there, done that. There is no shame in being in-tune with our emotional and mental health needs.” He sits up straighter and soft, attentive Graham is suddenly replaced with serious, I-mean-business Graham. “But if anyone in this organization, regardless of who they are, makes you feel otherwise, I need you to tell me immediately. I have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to these kinds of issues, and I know my father feels the same way.”

I’ve never questioned Graham’s professionalism or dedication to this company before, but tonight, here in this cluttered corner of our building’s lobby, I’m getting a glimpse at just how strong and selfless of a leader this man is.

“Because at the end of the day, the work can wait. There isnothingmore important than our people.” As if I couldn’t be swooning any harder over this man, he adds, “Which now includes you, Will.”

Dead. Deceased. Graham has single-handedly taken my anxiety about a potential professional mishap, understood it, given it value, and then thrown it out the literal window. All while looking like this? I think he might be a unicorn?

Despite the weirdness and tension andwhateverthe hell all of that was from our initial meeting, I stare in awe of the man who’s been in my life for barely any time at all. Somehow, he’s managed to make me feelmoreseen and understood in this moment hidden away from the music and the impressiveness of our colleagues and the pressure of it all than anyone ever has before.

* * *

“Oh God, I deserve this hangover. I really do,” I say to an already showered and glamorous Klair as I move slowly from my bedroom to the kitchen. “Coffee. Now,” I growl, my head throbbing with every step.Note to self: complimentary champagne doesn’t mean you have to drink it ALL.She’s already two-steps ahead of me, per usual, with two piping hot mugs already poured on the counter. “You’re a goddess, Klair…don’t youeverforget that.”

She laughs as I take a deep sip, willing the caffeine to bring me back to life.

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