Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

ANTHONY

I text Pat the snowplow driver about Joy, and he responds with enthusiasm. So I invite him to the wedding. Then I respond to Wilson and tell him that I’ve misplaced my phone but we’d be “overjoyed” to meet them at The Peanut Bar on Thursday night. He responds so quickly I’m impressed with his typing speed—

Have I ever told you how much I love peanuts? I love them as peanut butter, and peanut cookies, and peanut candy, and you name it, I like it. We’ll see you there, man. I can’t wait. I want to show you my ice pack. And when I told Nina we were going, she said she loves playing games. So do they have like, Clue or Checkers or something at the bar, do you think? That would be cool. Anyway. See you soon!

Shaking my head, I forward the message to Nicole, Damien, and Rosie. Then I ask Jake to have lunch with me tomorrow so I can fill him in on everything, and I start revising my original business proposal about The Ware.

I feel…invigorated.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this way about work.

Before Rosie, it had been years since I’d felt this way about anything. A prickle of feeling would break through if I did something that stirred my adrenaline—going on a roller coaster ride, driving fast, or sex—but everything felt muted, like I was experiencing life through a filter. Now, everything is happening at once, and feelings keep washing through me in waves—undiluted and painful in their purity.

I can make this happen.

I can make it happen by myself, without Smith Investments.

I can keep the building and make The Ware. One or both housing developments might move forward with a different map, but I don’t need to play a part in them.

And I want to involve Rosie.

But I still feel…an obligation, so I decide to send the proposal to Simon after I’m finished. We can discuss it tomorrow morning.

By the time a knock lands on my door, it’s dark outside again, although that gives no insight into the time of day. It gets dark at five p.m. at this time of year, so it could be five or ten, for all I know. I glance at the time on my laptop screen and see that it’s eight.

Another knock.

“Come in.”

I know it’s Rosie from the way she opens the door. As if a gust of energy is pushing it open. Something inside of me lifts at the sight of her, radiant in a red sweater dress. She’s not wearing a coat, so presumably she was downstairs for a while, but she’s carrying a takeout bag of fast food.

“Are you okay?” I ask, alarmed, getting to my feet. “They didn’t—”

“Oh, they did,” she says, her eyes full of amusement as she crosses the floor to me and tosses the bag onto my desk. It nearly wipes out my laptop, but I’m surprisingly unfazed by it. “Or at least your sister did. Your mother was MIA. I figured maybe she went to bed early to plot world domination.”

Then she launches herself at me, and I fall back into the chair, laughing, with Rosie in my lap. Where she belongs. A massive sense of relief engulfs me, because I wasn’t sure she’d really come. Part of me worried she’d have thought better of everything and would be halfway to New York City by now.

“Sorry,” I say into her hair, leaning in to kiss the fragrant side of her neck.

“I don’t mind,” she says as she turns slightly to face me, the perfect curve of her ass rubbing against me. “I expect you’re going to get some kind of inquisition from my brother soon.”

“We can go talk to him now.” I reach up to touch her lips, needing to feel them under the pad of my fingers. Right now, tonight, it feels like I could do anything. Possibilities that once felt like far-off glimmers are now reachable.

“Yeah, no,” she says, her lips stretching into a smile. “We’re not doing that. I want to layer this on him slowly. I already told him I’m not going to New York.”

“Was he upset?” I ask, wrapping my arms more firmly around her, as if that can keep him, or anyone, from taking her from me.

“Oh, hell yes. He tried to tell me that I didn’t have a choice, and I had to point out that kidnapping is illegal. He made me promise I’d think about it for a day. I guess he’s not going if I'm not going, so it’s become a whole thing.”

“Don’t you want him to be at the wedding?” I can’t bring myself to call it our wedding, although I’m not sure why. I want to marry Rosie. I’m desperate to marry her. But I would have done it differently if the money weren’t on the line. I would have waited longer to ask. I would have known she wasn’t doing it out of a sense of obligation or, worse, of need.

She scrunches her nose. “Yes, if he’s not going to be a dick. If he is going to be a dick, I’ll ask Seamus to walk me down the aisle. Or, actually, screw that. It’s a sexist tradition anyway. I can make my own way down the aisle, thank you very much.”

“Maybe Joy can walk you down the aisle,” I say, tracing my fingers over her cheek, through her hair, finding that purple section and running my thumb against it.

She leans into my touch, grinning at me. “You raise an excellent point, sir.”

“Call me that again,” I say, my voice coming out husky, like a stranger’s.

“Sir,” she says with a glimmer in her eye as she grinds her ass against my half-hard dick. “I can see you like it.”

“I do,” I admit, my hand gripping her hip.

“But I also have it on good authority that you haven’t eaten a single thing since breakfast. So I left and came back with food. And you’re going to eat everything in that bag before I let you bend me over this desk.”

A strangled groan escapes me. “You’re going to kill me.”

“So you keep promising,” she says with a grin over her shoulder, then grabs the bag from the desk and shoves it at me. I take it from her. “Eat. You’ve been up here starving yourself.”

I have no idea what’s in that bag, other than it smells greasy and only delicious because she’s right—I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But I’m about to eat it. I’m about to eat as quickly as I’ve ever eaten anything in my life, because there’s nothing in this world I want more than to bend my future wife over this desk and slide home. Nothing. Except…

“I…I’ve been updating my business proposal for The Ware,” I say. “The one that’s been sitting on my hard-drive for seven years.”

She gets up, beaming, and says, “Were you really?”

“I was really,” I say wryly, my dick still very ready to take over. But I want this more. I want to know that I’ve pleased her. “I’m going to send it to Simon later. It’s a Hail Mary, I guess. But if he’s not open to taking a new direction at Smith Investments, then I’m still going to do it. My mother said she’ll invest. And, I’d like…” I swallow. “Would you give me your opinion on it?”

She’s gripping my collar, wrapping her fingers around it. Then she leans down and kisses me hard, sucking on my bottom lip. When she pulls back, I’m alarmed by the way her eyes glisten, as if she’s close to tears.

“People have been bored by my business talks before,” I say wryly. “But no one’s ever cried before.”

“The man you’re becoming, Anthony. You’re even more beautiful. Your eyes are so alive now.”

“Were they dead before?”

“Flat. Like a statue’s.”

A smile lifts my lips slightly. “That’s what Nina used to call me.”

“That’s what Nina helped make you,” she retorts hotly. “But I’m not going to let it happen again.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear, a deep, sucking feeling filling my chest. “I believe you. Only someone very foolish would mess with you.”

Her lips tip up. “I texted you back, you know.”

“My cell phone?”

“I said see you on Thirsty Thursday, Nina . And sent her a link to skincare products. Shockingly, you haven’t responded yet.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Like I said, only someone very foolish would mess with you.”

“I hope you remember that,” she says with a smile. “Because you still haven’t eaten your food.”

I get up with the bag, relinquishing the chair to her. Then I watch, helpless to do anything but, as she sits and pulls the chair up to the desk. As she starts reading…

“ Eat ,” she says over her shoulder, and I smile to myself, chagrined, as I sit on the broken bed and do just that. It’s a burger and some fries, and suddenly I’m famished.

The business proposal is a long document, and the temptation to sit there with her and ask her questions every five seconds is strong. So I force myself to grab a book and pretend to read after I finish eating, but my eyes keep traveling back to her. Sitting at my desk, tugging on the purple strip in her hair, her eyes intent on the screen. Every now and then she leans in and adds a comment to the document.

Then she gasps and turns to me, her lips parting.

“You want me to be the activities coordinator?”

“Only if you want to be,” I say, instantly wondering if I’ve fucked up. “But I figured you’d be good at it. Incredible at it, actually. You said you want to help people, and I figured maybe you could do a bucket list thing for the residents, and—”

She stalks over and pulls me in for a kiss, her lips full of a purpose that thrums through me. When she edges back, her eyes are glassy again. “I’d love it. It’s perfect. What about Dom?”

“Well…I thought we could keep the bar if the owner wants to stay. Or I could buy it and keep Dom as the bartender. He’s obviously awful at what he does, but I think that adds to the charm.”

“Thank God. So do I,” she says, her eyes full of warmth. Then she kisses me again, making a sweet sound into my mouth. I try to pull her back onto the broken bed, but she pushes me away and grins at me. Probably because she can see the hard-on pressing at my pants. “To be continued. I need to finish this, Anthony. This is big.”

And she returns to that chair and resumes reading. Everything inside of me is attuned to her movements, her expressions, and the little smile turning her pink lips.

Finally, she moves my office chair toward me, and I feel like it’s my judgement day, and my soul hangs in the balance of whatever this remarkable woman has to say to me.

Angel.

Devil.

Mine.

“Come over here so we can talk about it.”

A guttural sound escapes me as I rise from the broken bed and move toward her.

“Take your pants off,” she says as I get close, and I do, watching as she takes off her shoes and pushes off the tights she’s wearing under her sweater dress. There’s a wicked glint in her eyes as she watches me, my dick jutting up beneath the hem of my shirt. “Now, sit in the chair, sir, and we can begin our meeting. I’ll take the meeting from your lap. With your dick inside of me, if that suits you.”

“It suits me very well.” I lower into the chair, my blood so hot it feels like it’s burning the insides of my veins.

I’d like to touch her first, to taste her, but this is her show tonight, and I’m letting her play it the way she wants. So when she turns to face the computer before reaching back and guiding my dick where she wants it, I just enjoy the anticipation—and the feeling of being the luckiest man in the world.

She slowly sinks downward, each inch of her descent full of torture and bliss.

“You’re so wet for me, Rosie,” I say, my voice strained as she lowers the last inch and leans back into me.

“Reading this made me wet.”

She leans over her shoulder to kiss me, and I grip her hip, thrusting into her. “It did? Do you have a thing for real estate?”

“No, but it turns out I have a thing for smart guys. Who would have thought, given my history.”

A feral noise escapes me as she arcs back into me and then leans forward to scroll through the document. “So, while I do enthusiastically accept your job offer, I have a couple of suggestions.”

“Tell me,” I say, reaching around to rub her while she rides me. “I want to hear everything.”

She leans over her shoulder again as she grinds down, her lips brushing the side of my face. “I knew you’d be a good boy.”

Listening to Rosie’s thoughts on my proposal while she keeps rising and lowering on my dick is, obviously, the best experience of my life. I want to add another five items to my bucket list, because I keep realizing there’s more I want to do. More experiences that have passed me by because my imagination wasn’t big enough to encompass them. This is one of them.

After, I ask her to stay the night.

She informs me that her brother has pledged to storm the fortress if she’s not back by twelve.

I point out that it would give us an opportunity to talk, man-to-man, so it’s not a bad idea.

“Not like that,” she says, her mouth tipping up in amusement. “Not yet. I can tell he still needs a little more time.”

Time…it can be a man’s enemy but also his friend.

“Does that mean you won’t let me drive you home?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “No, because you’d be marooned, and Pat the snowplow driver won’t be there to save your ass.”

“Speaking of Pat,” I say. “I invited him to the wedding. He wants to meet Joy.”

She squeals and wraps her arms around me, and suddenly I can’t wait any longer. I kiss the top of her head and then break away and open the desk drawer, taking out the little box I’ve kept in there since Christmas Eve.

Her eyes get wide as she watches me, and I hope to God it’s not with fear or regret, because a guy can get sensitive when he proposes twice to the same woman and keeps getting turned down.

“Will you wear my ring, Rosie?” I ask.

Staring at me with wide eyes, she says, “Didn’t Damien and Nicole want us to keep things quiet?”

I told her everything, although I wasn’t surprised to learn she’d already heard from Nicole personally. They don’t seem like the sort of people who’d abide by client confidentiality.

“Until we ambush Nina and Wilson at the bar. But I’d be honored if you’d wear it on your necklace. No one else needs to know, but we will.”

She kisses me and then threads the ring onto her necklace, and the feeling of satisfaction I get from seeing it there, layered over her heart, stuns me. I kiss her, and then I kiss the ring.

“I want you to live with me,” I admit. Her eyes widen with surprise, and I add, “I’m not saying it has to happen right away. I know we need time to catch up to…all of this. But I wanted to make my intentions clear to you. I want you to be my wife, and I want you to live with me. We can live at my house or we can get a new place. Whatever you want. Other than staying at Smith House. I don’t think I could do that.”

She hasn’t said anything yet, so I add, “And I know how important Joy is to you. I want her to live with us too.”

“ Anthony .” She traces a finger over my lips and kisses me. “I’d like that very much.”

Then she turns to leave, and I have to watch her walk out the door.

Until tomorrow, I tell myself. Only until tomorrow.

After I make a few changes to the proposal based on Rosie’s feedback and send it to Simon, it takes me an hour to get to sleep, my brain buzzing with her and with ideas and with an excitement for the future it can’t quite process.

Most of our staff took Wednesday off, but the admin assistant who covers the front desk grins at me and asks if she can still call me Dancing Queen. I tell her that she’s one of nine people who were willing to show up to work today, and she can call me whatever she’d like.

I’m humming as I make my way to my office, but it’s not empty. Simon is sitting in the chair in front of my desk wearing his serious face. Someone should really tell him it’s a mismatch with his suspenders.

“I take it you read the proposal,” I say, removing my coat and hanging it on the back of my office door before closing it behind us. I walk over and lower into my chair behind the desk.

“I did,” he says, eyeing me as if I’m unfamiliar to him.

I suppose I am.

“Anthony,” he says slowly, his gaze catching on my bandaged hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

“And yet here you are, speaking.”

There’s an edge to the words, to me. I feel myself falling back into the self I have been in this office, with this man who worshipped at my father’s feet. A petulant child.

I want to leave.

I think of Rosie. I think of running my fingers down the purple strip in her hair. I think of her lips brushing the back of my neck. I think of her sinking down onto me while we discussed my proposal together.

I sit down and face Simon, taking a slow breath in and then out. “You’re not interested in changing course.”

“No,” he says bluntly, his expression incredulous. “Why would you put months of work into this deal only to destroy everything at the last moment? This isn’t like you, Anthony. And this proposal…you’ve made it a little more attractive, I’ll admit, but we discussed it years—”

“No,” I say flatly. “You weren’t interested in discussing it then. And you made damn sure no one else was either.”

“ Anthony ,” he says, disappointment ringing in his voice. Then he reaches up to adjust his bowtie. “You’re not thinking clearly. Your father…” He pauses, swallows. “You’re under a lot of pressure. I’ll admit it’s not fair what he did to you with the inheritance. Now, he and I both thought it would be a very fine thing if you and Rachel—”

Anger weaves its fingers around my neck. “You set this up with him so I’d be backed into marrying your daughter? You were partially responsible for this?”

“Now, no one’s forced you into doing anything, young buck,” he says, wagging his finger at me. I instantly want to swat it, but I hold back. “If you’d married already, it would be a moot point. And I haven’t tried to convince either of you of anything. I’ve only provided opportunities. But if you ask me, you’d do much better to marry a friend than a complete stranger. Your mother tells me you’re engaged to a girl you barely know.”

There are many things I could say, including that Rachel isn’t, in fact, my friend. Instead, I say, “I’m not going through with the deal. You can have the company. I won’t ask you to buy me out.”

“You’d give me a sinking ship?” he sputters, his face turning color. “Without that deal…”

“I know. And I should never have let it go this far. I don’t believe in the development they’re planning. I never have.”

“Your father was a great man.” He gets to his feet, his face purple now. He’s talking loudly, nearly shouting. “He helped make this city what it is today. He’d be ashamed of what’s become of his legacy.”

I get to my feet too. “I don’t care anymore,” I say, nearly meaning it. Wanting to mean it all the way. To pull the infection out from the roots. I take a deep, slow breath and let it out. “I used to think that I wanted to be like him. Strong. Impervious. Larger than life. But he never stopped to consider that it might be better to be a good man than a great one. He wasn’t a good man, Simon. Not even close.”

His expression changes, something like remorse lighting his eyes, and I know he knows something. It’s there in his eyes.

He swallows, eyeing me. “I don’t want his legacy to crumble to ash, Anthony. He cared about his legacy.”

“I used to care about it too,” I say, emotion suddenly throbbing in my head, threatening to burst. “I devoted my whole life to it. You know, I used to wake up in the middle of the night—every night—seeing him fall off that tree. Seeing his sightless eyes after I ran to him. But do you know why he climbed it in the first place, Simon?”

“I don’t…”

“Someone special to me has made me realize that I haven’t been living my life. I’ve been trying to live his, and it never fit. It never will. If you want to keep this company going, I’ll still give Smith Investments the money I was going to put into it for the deal. But I’m not going to work here, and I’m not going to sell The Ware. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Anthony,” he says, his eyes pleading with me as he tugs on his suspender straps like they’re a lifeline. “He loved his family. He only wanted what was best for you.”

“Then he and I are finally in agreement,” I say, stepping away from the desk.

“Where are you going?” he asks in alarm.

“To cut down a tree. I’ll see you at the wedding, Simon.”