Crazy, right? I know.
Right now, I’m a far cry from the anxious twit I was this morning. Working together, we have a commonality in this job that puts us on the same playing field. When we went to the tomb, we shared stories of family and honesties reserved for intimate friendships. I feel like he’s known me forever. We’ve come so far in a short amount of time.
Maybe Asher can give me some advice. Malory is no use. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” There is vexation in his voice.
I twist the words around in my head for a minute. I don’t want to give too much away. “If you believe something in your gut, but you have no physical proof it is what your mind thinks it is… do you…?” My mind can’t find the words. Crap, why am I even talking about this with him? My eyes feel heavy as tears try to inch out from behind them. I swallow them back to the point my throat feels like it’s going to burn.
My eyes betray me by letting go of a single tear.
“Kathryn.” His warm, strong hands grab mine and hold tight. He tries to catch my gaze, but I sit, staring at the empty space around me. “Look at me.”
Tentatively, I raise my head and compose myself, the drop falling down my cheek. “I’m sorry. I feel so foolish.” My head falls again in embarrassment as I wipe away the solo tear with the back of my hand.
“Never say you’re sorry to me.” He dips his head until it’s within my gaze and holds his eyes to mine, forcing me to raise my head along with his. He’s not touching me physically, yet he can control me with just the look of his eyes. “And never lower your beautiful face.”
“You never call me Kathryn.” I let out a shy smile.
“Only when I’m mad at you.”
“Very funny.”
“Listen.” His voice is low. “I don’t know why you’re distressed, but I can tell you this. This business. Everything is numbers and bottom lines. But sometimes, something may look great on paper. Hell, it may look like a fucking cakewalk. But if there is something in my gut that says it’s wrong, then I walk away.
“The same goes for when I know I should be doing something.” He continues. “If I know it’s right, if I feel it’s right, then I have to do it or else it’s all meaningless.” His eyes look to mine for understanding.
I try to comprehend his words. “What do you do if the issue at hand is personal? If it’s not business?”
“Then I follow my heart. I’m impulsive that way.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” My breath leaves my body.
“Listen. The world isn’t all black and white. Sometimes it’s… grey, Gray.”
I smile reticently, my body at ease and my mind at rest. “Are you mocking me?”
His lips cock into a crooked smile. “I believe I am.”
Follow my heart? My heart knows I’m going entirely overboard. My brain knows what it saw and heard, but what was it I thought I saw or heard? When did I become so insecure? Perhaps I always was, yet Gabriel never gave me the opportunity to see just how insecure I was over him. He’s always been so attentive. His world revolved around me. Am I being so self-indulgent that I can’t imagine him having another life aside from the one I’m in? He’s a hardworking man. I can’t be so jealous of the time he puts into his career. Isn’t that exactly what I asked him not to do? I wanted to have a staple of my own, a place where I was important and productive outside of our marriage.
And that stupid pesky blonde from the park? Gabriel’s a nice guy. He makes friends easily. Always has, always will. It’s fine he runs with her. I have lunch with Asher and there’s nothing indecent going on here.
As for that conversation I heard in the store, I must have misheard. My imagination runs away from me sometimes. Gabriel is a good man. He’s my man. I can’t believe I almost let Malory help me dig a deeper hole of despair just thinking about it. When here, Asher is being the voice of reason.
Pulling my thoughts back to the now, Asher is looking at me with a peculiar mix of intensity and contentment. “Thank you,” he breathes.
“For what?”
“Confiding in me. It’s new for me. I like it.” His voice is low.
“You’re a good friend,” I whisper.
“I try.”
Catching my eye, I notice a beautiful piece of artwork hanging on the wall over Asher’s shoulder. A triumphant, gold, jeweled cross, adorned with emerald, sapphire, and citrine stones, lies against a black backdrop. The alpha and omega symbols hang from the arms of the cross. Asher follows my gaze.
“It’s called the Crux Gemmata,” he explains, looking at the early medieval art. “Do you see the tree in the center of the cross? It symbolizes the story of Adam and Eve. The first original sin.”
“It’s stunning.” My eyes meet his again.
“Feel better?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” A grin crosses my face.
“You have a beautiful smile, Gray.”
Breaking the intense eye contact, I grab my files from the desk and rise from the table. “Enough with the compliments. I think we’ve crossed enough lines this afternoon.”
Asher swiftly rises. “Don’t start with that again…”
I hold my hand up in protest. “No. You misunderstood. I’m not admonishing you. Thank you. I mean it. I feel much better.”
“You should.” His words are sincere. “You have me.”
I do.
Cecelia’s eyes are reprimanding as I exit the office. She probably assumes the worst. To hell with it. What does she know? And what do I care?
Back to reality on floor twenty-four, my redhead is barely seen over the ever-growing display of white roses.
“Do you have any stationary?” I ask.
She hands me an envelope and a notecard emblazoned with the ASHER signature and Omega logo.
In my office, I scribble a note and seal the envelope before placing it in the small Bloomingdales bag I have in my purse. I never took it out from this weekend. Frankly, I had no idea what I was going to do with the cologne.
I walk back to Trish’s desk and hand her the bag.
“Please deliver this to Mr. Asher’s office. You can leave it with Cecelia.”
Ever the eager beaver, Trish grabs the bag and heads toward the elevator to make the delivery.
Stopping for a moment, I lean over Trish’s desk and smell the delicious white roses laced with tobacco and vanilla. Tranquility swims through my bloodstream.
Turning on my heel, I head back to my office with a foolish grin on my face. My office is still bare. Its stark white walls and spacious furniture may seem cold, but this little space has become my home away from home.
I don’t believe I have anything personal in here.
Oh, I do.
Bending down under my desk, I grab the black umbrella. I hold it by its beautiful white pearl handle. It really is pretty. The sight of it solicits a fond memory. I can’t believe just two months ago, I thought this man was crude and wildly “inappropriate.” It’s odd to think he has become one of my best friends. Maybe Gabriel was right. I do need more friends.
My desk has become a paper landmine. For a job that is so creative, there is an awful lot of paperwork that goes into it.
We have a production meeting at eleven, so I came in nice and early to prepare for it. I feel good today. Today is a new day. I’m going to follow my heart. And my heart says my husband loves me.
I woke this morning draped in two hundred pounds of Gabriel. His hair is getting a touch longer than usual and it brushed against my face as he woke me up with soft kisses and a little tickle. We didn’t have the opportunity for more because Jackson was up and ready for some attention as well. From the bed, I admired Gabriel’s backside as he undressed for the shower. It was a beautiful sight to see.
Stepping out of bed, I nearly slipped on a magazine. I lifted it up to see the cover with Asher’s picture. It was the same one Gwen was reading this weekend. Gabriel must have fallen asleep reading it.