Page 162 of Between the Lines

“Mm-hmm. What if I said...” He kisses my neck. “That I’m spearheading a new proposal… that has a hard stop.”

It’s hard to think with his lips right below my jaw. “I think we should workshop that. Invite some... other people... for maximum synergy.”

He groans against my skin. “Invite other people?”

“Yes. Like five to ten useless employees who nod approvingly at your suggestions,” I say, and he pulls back to level me witha look. I giggle. “What? That’s exactly how your meetings look like.”

“Are you saying what I think you are?”

“That you’re surrounded by sycophants?” My eyes are wide, the picture of innocence. “Of course not.”

“Okay, that’s it.” He grabs me and pulls me up to the center of the bed, into his arms.

I laugh again. “Oh no. Have I upset you?”

“I’m realizing,” he says, settling against me, “that I’ve failed to make a sycophant out of you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and feel the worries of the last hour melt away. Even when they’re related to him, he’s so good at making them disappear. Shelving them for another conversation.

He’s always been good at making me feel safe. Even when it would make no sense to anyone else, even when it made no sense to me.

“Are you going to convince me?” My fingers play along his cheekbone, up to his temple, into his hair.

He bends closer. “No. I like you disobedient.”

“Disobedient, huh? That implies I’m yours.”

He brushes his lips over mine. “And are you?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I kiss him, my fingers twining in his hair, and pull him closer. I wrap my legs around him, and it’s not a verbal answer, but he groans low in his throat, like he’s heard it regardless.

CHAPTER 57

CHARLOTTE

The city is alive around me, but I can’t take it all in. It’s like the noise is filtered through a shield. Can’t reach me, can’t touch me. I’ve been driving for the past hour. I took the Mulholland Drive that Aiden showed me and stopped at the scenic overlook.

But I couldn’t handle staying still.

So I got back in the car and drove the roads around Beverly Hills. When that didn’t work, I drove down Sunset Boulevard, all the way out toward the ocean, until it intersected with the Pacific Coast Highway.

The sun is setting outside my windshield. I can see it. Disappearing in the distance, dipping below the vast horizon. I could look at that view forever and never tire.

In my pocket, my phone rings. Once, then twice. I know who it is before I glance at it. Aiden. He’s probably home from work now and is wondering where I am.

I stop at a red light and look back out at the ocean. It’s so huge, it could swallow me whole. I could disappear out there and be no one at all. Not recognized, not seen. One wave among the masses.

My parents did not approve.

They asked if I knew what I was doing, writing this memoir. Why I hadn’t told them right away. Why I hadn’t broken the NDA.

Honey,Mom glances at Dad with a worried look on her face,you’ve been pushing yourself so hard for the past few years. Take a break.

I don’t need a break.

This doesn’t sound good. I don’t like the sound of it, not one bit.My dad, with his arms crossed over his chest and an angry concern in his eyes. The kind I’d seen so often in those first few months, years ago, when our lives turned upside down.

The media will get ahold of this when it’s published.

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