Page 103 of A Forbidden Arrangement
It used to be sad and a little scraggly. Now, it spills over its pot. New leaves unfurl pale green, then darken at the edges. I reach out and hook a finger under one leaf. It’s cool and firm. My chest pulls tight at the memory of my hands shaking in that cramped apartment, whispering to this plant like a crazy person while the house felt like a trap. I was a little straggly then too.
“How did you know this one was my favorite?”
He doesn’t look away. “Because I know you.”
“You caught me talking to it, did you not?”
He laughs under his breath, brushing my hair behind my ear. “You talk to all your plants.”
I roll my eyes and take the pot from him. “Not true. Some get the silent treatment.” I kiss him quickly and carry it to the highest tier, where it catches the light.
A knock sounds behind us. “Food’s here,” Becca calls, voice bright. The door swings wider, and she comes in with a tray balanced on her hands like a pro.
Becca sets the tray on the low table in front of the sofa. “I brought pastries, fruit, and coffee. Also, yogurt and honey. If you say no to the croissants, I will cry.”
She looks up at me as she straightens, and her gaze pauses at my neck. Heat flashes over my skin. Xander left a map there last night.
Her mouth curves. “How’s married life?”
“Blissful,” Xander answers before I can. He slides an arm around me and kisses the top of my head.
Becca’s eyes shine like she wants to squeal, but she bites it back. She’s been trying to get me to fall for him since day one. I will never hear the end of it. “You two have fun,” she says, already halfway out the door.
As soon as she’s gone, Xander buries his face against my neck, breathing me in. His hands slide down my thighs, fingers warm and sure. One hand slips beneath the hem of his shirt and rests over my stomach, the other holding me close.
“You hungry?” His mouth brushes my skin, and I know he doesn’t mean food.
My stomach answers with a loud growl. He stops and laughs against my shoulder. The sound is low and pleased.
“Food first,” he says and lets me go. He steals two pillows from the chairs and shakes out the knitted throw, then pats the sofa. “Sit. Eat.”
I curl up while he sets out the tray. The first sip of coffee is heaven. The croissant flakes melt on my tongue. Xander sits beside me, lifts my legs into his lap, and starts massaging my feet. His thumbs press into the arches, and a low hum slips out of me before I can catch it.
“Good?” His eyes are on my feet, not my face. He’s concentrating like he’s solving a problem.
“Hmm, so good,” I say.
He smiles without looking up. “Noted.”
We stay like that for a while. I eat bites of fruit and pastry, drink coffee, and let him work the tight places out of my feet and calves. Morning light keeps climbing across the rug.
“Don’t you have to work?” I finally ask.
“I took the day off.”
“I thought you had some big deal happening.”
He presses his thumb into my arch, eyes still closed. “Canceled it.”
I sit up a little. “Canceled it, canceled it?”
“Canceled it.” He opens his eyes then and drags his hands higher to my knees, slowly on purpose. He looks pleased with himself.
I swallow a smile and refuse to give him the reaction he’s fishing for. “That’s not very responsible for the boss.”
He gives me a look that says he hears me and also that he plans to ignore me.
When the tray is more crumbs than food, I set it on the table.
