Page 24 of Our Broken Pieces
I make my way to the kitchen. “Hey! How was the gym?”
“Good.” He sorts through a stack of mail at the counter. When he looks up at me, his brow pinches. “You straightened your hair.”
“Yeah, I figured a little extra effort on my appearance might help today.”
“But your curls are better.”
I force a laugh. “Don’t worry, prince, they’ll be back tomorrow.”
He nods and grabs a water from the fridge. “I’m going to shower and jump on my call. Did you think about what you want to do today?”
“I was thinking we could hit up the Harvard Museum of Natural History.”
He smirks. “You want to look at rocks, don’t you?”
“They aren’t just rocks! The Mineral Gallery is awesome.”
“Mineral Gallery is just a fancy name for a room full of rocks.”
“And you’ll enjoy every second of it. Go get ready for your call.”
He shakes his head and walks up the stairs.
Marcus followed me around the museum for two hours. The man has the patience of a saint. We walk out of the building, and I lift my face to the warm afternoon sun.
“See, prince? That was fun!” I tease, glancing at him.
When we reach his truck, he unlocks the doors with a press of a button. “I definitely know more about rocks now,” he replies dryly.
I give his shoulder a playful shove, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. “We saw way more than just rocks today.”
“I didn’t mind the bird exhibit.”
He closes my door, crossing to his side, getting in and starting the engine. “You didn’t think that was creepy? All those stuffed birds? All their lifeless eyeballs?”
“No,” he replies nonchalantly.
I shiver in my seat, remembering all the stuffed birds on display—lifeless, staring into space. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, what are you in the mood for?”
“I want a big salad.”
He thinks for a minute. “We can go to Russell House Tavern. It’s about five minutes from here.”
“I trust your recommendation,” I say, settling in as he begins to drive.
In less than fifteen minutes, we’re seated at the bar with menus in hand, waiting on drinks.
“Their chopped salad is really good.” Marcus smiles at the bartender when they place our drinks in front of us.
“Sold,” I say, placing my menu off to the side.
After placing our orders, I take a sip of my Old Fashioned and glance at him. “Is it nice to have a break from the office today?”
“It is,” he admits, leaning back in his barstool. “Sometimes it takes me a bit to switch off my work brain. I’m so used to being stressed that I forget how to relax.”
“Do you think it will still be as stressful when you take over the company?”
