Page 67 of Bidding War

It means so much to me that he said that. “When was the last time I told you I love you?”

“Last night. Twice.”

I giggle, with my face going red again. “Pretty sure that second time my mouth was too full to say I love you.”

He grins like the devil. “That's the best way to say I love you.”

“I'll remember that for next time.” I don't want to ask, but I have to. “Busy schedule today?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing terrible today, don't worry. Just gonna do a quick pick up with Moss.”

I have resolved not to ask about these pickups, the ride-alongs, or any other details of his side work, as I’ve started to call it in my head. We are not married. If I were called to testify against him, I would have to. So the fewer details I have about what he does as his side work, the better for us both.

But that seems like a shitty reason to get married.

We gobble down on our bagels and drink our lattes in relative peace, neither of us happy with the other's work. I suppose that's just the nature of things right now. Neither of us feels as if we have any other choice. But there is one thing that came to mind late last night.

What if we just moved?

It's a crazy idea, and I know it. We are both Bostonians at heart. But what else do you do when your hometown is exactly what's killing you?

I haven't brought it up to Anderson. He would just shoot it down. He doesn't see a way around his father. Truthfully, neither do I. That man has hooks on hooks on hooks. I am sure that he would probably send Moss after us. Or worse. And I don't. I don't wanna know what's worse.

“You have such a look on your face.”

I snort a laugh around my bagel trying not to choke. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you look like you're deep in thought. What's on your mind?”

I can never hide a damn thing around this man. “Just thinking about my day, I guess.”

“Hmm. If you say so.” His little smirk slays me every time.

I give him a kiss and tell him, “I have to get ready.”

“Can I do one boyfriend thing?”

“What's that?”

“Pick out your armor for the day.”

I snort a laugh and shake my head. “Armor?”

“Armor, outfit, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Sure.”

While I do my hair, Anderson digs around in my closet for something he deems armor. I'm not even remotely surprised when it's a black pantsuit and a black high-necked camisole. The ensemble covers me from neck to wrist to ankle. “What do you think?”

He's trying. I know he is. It's not easy when your partner wants to do something so big that you disagree. So he's trying, and I'm going to accept his help. “It's perfect. Thank you, sweetie.”

“Happy to help.”

I get dressed, and I am swallowed in black once the outfit is on me. It’s the office equivalent of a muumuu. But it makes him happy, and I'm not going to give him grief today. After checking my look in the mirror one more time, I grab my bag, and we head out for our respective destinations. When it comes time to part, I take a nervous breath. “See you at my place tonight? Chinese food?”

He smiles and nods. “Good luck today, June.”

“You, too, baby.”

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