Page 61 of If the Ring Fits

Rowena

Can you meet me for lunch near your office?

Say no. I should say no. I’m definitely saying no. Instead, I type back a short:

Adrian

Why? Something happened?

Rowena

No, I’m fine. I just need advice

Can’t she go to her friends for advice? As if reading my mind, her reply comes in pronto.

Rowena

Financial advice

I could tell her we can discuss it at home later, but we both know I won’t be there until she’s gone to sleep. And it might be better to talk while we’re in a public space and not alone. At least she’ll be dressed and hopefully not touching herself, so I should be fine. I pick the most unromantic place I can think of near the office and text her the address.

I glance at my watch for the fourth time in ten minutes as Dominic drones on about tightening our risk management parameters. The numbers and projections blur together in my mind, overshadowed by thoughts of Rowena waiting for me at the restaurant, and me being late, letting her down, which will happen soon if Dominic doesn’t wrap this up.

“Am I boring you, Adrian?” Dominic’s sharp voice cuts through my distraction. “Got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

I snap my attention back to my boss, an apologetic smile plastered on my face. “Sorry, Dominic. I’m supposed to meet Rowena for lunch in ten minutes, but if you need me to stay I can reschedule…”

A knowing grin spreads across the old man’s face, his eyestwinkling with mischief. “Ah, yes, your beautiful fiancée. Far be it from me to keep you from her enchanting company. We can finish this later.”

Relief washes over me as I rise from my seat. “Thanks, Dominic. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour.”

“Of course, of course. Enjoy your lunch, no hurry. And give my regards to the lovely Rowena.”

I nod gratefully and make a beeline for the door. A long ride down in the elevator, and the stuffy office air gives way to the bright July sunshine as I step outside, shrugging off my suit jacket. The heat is oppressive, but it does little to dampen my spirits. At the mere idea of seeing her, I feel instantly better than I’ve felt in the past three days avoiding her.

The restaurant I picked is one of those sterile, upscale places frequented by bankers and businessmen, all sleek lines and minimalist décor. Definitely nothing intimate about this place. But as the hostess leads me to the outdoor courtyard, a sharp, unexpected tension seizes my muscles. There, at a table bathed in sunlight, sits Rowena, a vision in a flowy lilac sundress. Her hair is half up, half down, the soft tendrils framing her face like a halo with the sun casting a golden glow on her skin.

My choice of a sterile place is already proving futile. She could be sitting in a pigsty, and she’d still transform it into a paradise.

“Hey,” I greet her with a tentative grin, drinking in the sight of her. “Thanks for waiting.”

Rowena looks up at me, her eyes drifting away almost immediately with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. “Of course. I’m glad you could make it. Thank you for coming.” She sounds more formal than I’m used to. Not the easy vibe we’d been having before Sunday’s we’re-not-having-sex gate.

I reach for the menu as Rowena fidgets with her napkin, but before I can even flip it open, she blurts out, “Adrian, I need to apologize for Sunday morning.”

Heat creeps down my spine, and I lower the menu, meeting her earnest gaze. “Oh?”

“I know that servicing me sexually isn’t part of our deal,” she continues, her cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink as she fumbles with her hands. “I shouldn’t have propositioned you like that.”

In my peripheral vision, I catch a server approaching our table, only to do a one-eighty upon hearing Rowena’s words. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, I chuckle. “Well, now you’ve traumatized that poor server.”

Rowena’s eyes widen, and she covers her mouth with her hand. When she lowers it, her smile is genuine, most of the strain gone, and I swear the summer sun pales compared to her beauty. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I just said that out loud!”

“Hey, no worries,” I assure her. “It’s all good. I’m sorry I wasn’t?—”

She interrupts me with a raised hand. “Please, can we never speak of it, like, ever again?”

I nod, suppressing a smirk. “I’m just glad that we can move past it.”

---