Page 80 of Take It Offline

“You’re really holding a grudge against Antarctica, aren’t you?”

I laugh freely and, feeling bold, turn my hand and thread my fingers through his. Like a sense memory, my thumb finds thescar there, stroking softly. It’s presumptuous and familiar, but Charlie doesn’t stop me.

I can’t remember ever holding Logan’s hand, now that I think about it.

“I always wanted to go to Venice,” he admits.

If I could charter a plane right now, I would. I’d give him the world. “You should. It’s beautiful.”

He stares intently at our linked hands. “Reese and I used to sneak magazines home anytime we were forced to go to the dentist. Didn’t matter how old they were. We’d pore over them, pretend to shop the clothes, plan trips to Tahiti or Tulum, get to the out-and-about section and pretend we knew everybody. ‘Oh, did you hear about Gustav? He lost his ostrich.’ Shit like that.”

“What a swelegant, elegant party it must have been. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“If I’m Sinatra,” he says, getting my reference and pleasing me far more than he should, “you know that makes you the Princess of Monaco.”

Gorgeous and untouchable. Is that how he sees me?

“But the real prize,” he says, “was the thick store catalogs. We’d sit for hours and shop for our someday house. Reese had one of those old-school calculators and everything. Size of a brick.”

“For some reason, I’m picturing those ticker tape machines.”

Charlie laughs. “You’re watching too many old movies, sweetheart.”

I can almost picture the two of them huddled together at the dining table, or perhaps sprawled across the floor, circling the items they wanted.

It’s about as far from my own childhood as he could get.

“As someone who once got to go on those shopping sprees for real, your way sounds more fun.” Maybe he can teach my parents to enjoy fantasy spending for a change.

He hums the same way he did the other night, and my blush heats up into a tingle.

“Emma,” he says, and why does he have to say my name like that? Like a beloved souvenir? “I won’t ever know what it’s like, being rich, but I don’t care about any of that. What you did today? It had nothing to do with money and everything to do with you. I’ve seen guys older and scruffier buckle under Baxter’s scrutiny. You were hot as hell in there. You should be proud of yourself.”

I’m a firm believer in not needing anyone’s validation but my own. It’s what made me such a terrible fit in school, what’s gotten in the way of most of my relationships, what drives me to work so hard.

On my best days, I’m a phenomenon. A warrior. Every path is a catwalk, every room my stage. On my best days, I’m unstoppable.

So the wild joy that hits me under Charlie’s praise is a shock.

I could face an army of Robertses right now, because the man next to me—this wisecracking, sweet-talking, larger-than-life man—believes in me.

He’s a wonder, beautiful and confounding. I take a shaky breath. “Why are you helping me?”

He squeezes my hand and levels me with a serious look. “Something you need to know about me? I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, and I’m never anywhere I don’t want to be.”

My naïve heart knocks against my ribs, ready to jump into his arms. But I don’t trust it. “If this is about last year, I’ve already accepted your apology.”

“It’s got nothing to do with that.”

I want to believe that more than I can say.

The car idles, growling in a way that’s become familiar and reassuring. We arrived at my apartment five minutes ago, but haven’t moved.

“Do you want to come up?” I finally ask, hands clenched in my lap.

Charlie brushes his fingers along the back of my neck and leans in close, the soapy sweetness of his aftershave surrounding me, pulling me farther under his unique spell.

“The answer to that question will always be yes, but I can’t tonight. I’ve got a plan for the next time I get you naked, and it involves giving you some homework.”

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