Page 78 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
I roll my eyes. “It’s more than good sex. Great sex, actually. Fantastic even. But that’s beside the point.” Jacklyn watches me, waiting for me to verbalize what I haven’t told her yet but I think she already knows. “So…yeah, okay, I’m in love with him.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Leaning forward she scoops her phone off the coffee table, thumbs rapidly firing out a text.
“What are you doing?”
“Canceling my plans.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Absolutely I do. My best friend is in love for the first time since I’ve known her. This is a major life event, and I need to heareverything.”
* * *
By Monday morning, I miss Ben desperately. We’ve texted nonstop. FaceTimed every night before bed. Still, it’s not enough, andI can only hope I don’t throw myself at him right there on the conference table in front of Calvin.
The distance has been beneficial, though I hate to admit it, in allowing me to catch up on much-needed sleep and lay out a detailed outline for the article. Once Calvin approves my outline, I’ll spend the rest of the month writing the article, editing it numerous times, and working with Ben to decide which photos will provide the best aesthetic. Despite my confidence in the work I’ve done so far, I pace from gray wall to gray wall in my cubicle, checking my phone every few minutes as the time ticks closer to tena.m.
As soon as the digits flip to 9:55, I weave through the thirty-sixth-floor maze—pausing for a brief, double thumbs-up and enthusiastic “You’ve got this!” from Jacklyn—then continue to the elevator bay and press the up arrow.
It was only a couple weeks ago I took this same journey, and it’s astounding to think of all the ways my life has changed in that little amount of time. Or maybe it didn’tchangeexactly, at least not when it comes to Ben. Maybe it was more of a course correction, fate finally putting us back on the path that led to each other.
The elevator dings, silver doors sliding open. And there’s Ben, leaning against the back wall in a white henley and his signature gray utility jacket, the only hint he’s attending a formal business meeting is the laptop bag slung over one shoulder, his fingers idly fidgeting with the strap.
In that precise moment I fully grasp why Ben Carter will never work forAround the Globe. He spent his entire childhood never having any say or control over the things happening in his own home, never knowing from one minute to the next what theatmosphere would be, or when it might shift. He grew up without the privilege of stability or the freedom to be a carefree, innocent child. Instead, he was an involuntarily independent kid who had to fend for himself when others failed him. Now as an adult he chooses to live life on his own terms. He’s created the ability to work when and where he wants, and I’ll be damned if I’m the person who ever tries to convince him to do otherwise.
“Ms. Miller,” he greets. “It’s good to see you again.”
I step into the elevator. “Benjamin, I hope you’ve been well.”
The second the doors slide closed I’m in his arms and his mouth is on mine and my back is pressed against the cool metal wall. My bag slides from my shoulder to the floor as I return his kiss, relishing the taste of cinnamon on his breath and his clean, fresh scent hanging in the air.
“God, Ems, I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he breathes against my mouth.
“I know,” I tell him, biting his lip. “Me, too.”
When the doors slide open again, Ben and I stand on opposite sides of the elevator like two professional coworkers and nothing more. Except if anyone looked close enough, they might notice my emerald silk blouse wrinkled at the hips, the hemline of my black skirt slightly askew. Thank god I was smart enough not to wear lipstick today.
Instead of proceeding toward Calvin’s office, I lead Ben through the glass hub of the thirty-seventh floor as we hook a right and head in the direction of the conference room. I spot Shirley seated at the long mahogany table before we reach the shiny transparent door. There’s a legal pad and three different pens in front of her to take notes for Calvin.
“Good morning, Shirley,” I say upon entering the conference room. I select a chair across from her and place my bag on the polished tabletop. “Lovely day out, isn’t it? Can you believe how quickly September is flying by?”
Ben eyes me with a curious look, then takes the seat beside me and pulls his laptop and a few prints from his messenger bag, arranging them in a neat stack.
“Mmm,” Shirley noncommittally replies to my questions she didn’t listen to. She jots down something on the legal pad, sending my already-jumpy nerves into overdrive. What could she possibly be writing already? Surely I won’t be judged on my awkward attempts at small talk.
We sit in silence for an eternity before Calvin bursts through the door in a rush, carrying an air of importance (entitlement) with him. Ben and I both stand, but Calvin moves past me without a glance to shake Ben’s hand.
“Benjamin,” he drawls, “it’s about time I saw you in this conference room. I hope you enjoyed your trip.”
“Very much,” Ben replies, but he looks over Calvin’s shoulder at me as he does.
Walking past me a second time, Calvin takes his seat at the head of the conference table. “Please, sit, sit. I cannot wait to see what you have in store for me. Let’s begin.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, taking my seat again. “If you will take a look at my outline, I believe—”
Calvin holds up a hand, silencing me as soon as I’ve started my pitch. “Ms. Miller, I would prefer to start with Benjamin’s photographs before we discuss the article.” He rubs his hands together, eyeing the stack of photos in front of Ben like it’s anaward-winning filet mignon at a Michelin-starred restaurant. “I’ve been waiting years for this. No offense.”
“Of course! Totally understandable!” My tone is entirely too enthusiastic. “No worries here, sir!”
