Page 21 of Sweet Nothings

“No,” I’m quick to answer. “It’s fine, but I’d like it if you could clear my schedule for the rest of the day.” I let go of the button and realize there wasn’t much of a schedule for Olivia to clear. I can’t get a single contract signed or client agreement until I solve the issue of being married.

Our entire company is at a standstill. I wonder if my father ever considered the repercussions of putting such a heavy stipulation on my inheritance.

The silence in my office becomes too much to bear and the memory of being in Laurel’s office yesterday bleeds into my thoughts.

Her skin was smooth and warm. An unfamiliar feeling snuck its way into my chest, jump starting my heart as if it were on the brink of collapsing. The jolt didn’t last long, disappearing as fast as it grew to life.

I slide back in my chair, my eyes falling to my desk. The past several years have been spent grinding and proving my worth to my father. I spent countless days and weeks, pushing aside the pain of losing my mother. My world spun on its axis that day, spiraling out of control, and I wanted nothing more than to forget what it was like to feel. Caring no longer mattered when I found myself trapped in a world where she no longer existed.

Until I mether.

While taking a sip from my drink, I crack open my desk drawer. Wisps of air brush along the delicate purple feather resting beside a black velvet box. I rub my thumb over the box, attempting to bury my thoughts once again.

The way Laurel’s skin prickled as I whispered into the hollow of her ear.

The hope in my mother’s voice as she told me what she wished for me.

I slam the drawer shut and down the rest of my drink before I give the memories a chance to swallow me whole.

SEVEN

Marry me.

The memory of Lennon’s voice hasn’t faded since he said those words to me two days ago.

Depositions and court filings- you name it -I’ve poured over nearly every legal document in my office in the hopes of getting my mind off Lennon. His touch. The way his voice sounded when he said the words ‘when you’re my wife,’and the way it made my thighs instinctively clench.

Even his scent still lingers in my office. I haven’t been able to get rid of it. I’ve even gone so far as lighting a few candles and buying a few plug-in air fresheners. Either they haven’t worked, or I subconsciously bought ones that smelled exactly like him.

Although I haven’t been able to rid my office or mind of his presence, I’m thankful for the certain relief the weekend will bring. It took all I had not to think of Lennon working three floors above me. Since learning Lennon remembered our night about as well as someone suffering from amnesia, it’s been difficult knowing he’s only a short elevator ride away. Not that I planned on seeing him after his outrageous proposal, but I’d be lying if I didn’t imagine what life as Lennon Harding’s wifewould look like. Even if his reasons are purely for corporate gains versus his actual feelings toward me.

The sun peeks through the windows, and the scent of banana muffins fills every corner of my small, one-bedroom apartment. The brick interior and piles of books on every bookshelf are a stark contrast to the corporate life I lead. Between the apartment and the muffins, I think of my mother. We may have come from a rich family, but my mother never let that stop her from baking.

Muffins, cookies, breads.

You name it, my mother baked it. Luckily for me, she taught me as best she could, and ever since, I’ve found it’s a great stress reliever.

I’m sliding my tray of banana muffins out of the oven when the lock on my front door twists and clicks. Roe struggles with her key before finally yanking it out. Her hair is tied in a tight ponytail. The end swishes across her back as she dramatically closes the door behind her.

“Just in time!” I yell over my shoulder, turning back to my creation. “Muffins just came out.”

“You really need to get that lock adjusted. My key always gets stuck,” she says, dropping her keys on the counter.

I crack a smile and turn off the oven. “I should have left it unlocked since I knew you were coming over.”

It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve seen or spoken to my sister. Despite her text message the other day, she didn’t bother to call me back until last night. With quick hands, I pop two muffins out of the pan and place them on a plate. After grabbing a knife and the tub of butter from the refrigerator, I spin around to face Roe. She’s sitting on the opposite side of the counter with her arms resting on the top. The space under her eyes is slightly darker than the last time I saw her. I think. It’s been a while so I can’t be certain.

“You’re either stressed or you’re seeing someone.”

I hold my knife mid-slice. Steam billows through the crack I’ve created in the bread. The heat wanders up to what I’m sure is a suspicious expression on my face—one my sister most likely can read.

“What makes you say that?” I laugh.

“Because…” She holds up three fingers and points at each of them. “You only ever bake when you’re stressed, sleeping with someone new and you don’t know where you stand with them afterward, or you’re dating someone.”

I roll my eyes. “Not true.”

“It is.” She cracks a smile. “So, which one is it?”

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