Page 22 of Changed Plan

I stand from the desk chair where I just gave my stellar interview performance and pace around the room for a few minutes, considering my life choices. Do I really still want to work in PR? I sit on the bed, but spring back up from the mattress like it’s on fire. How disrespectful to just plop my ass down where he sleeps like I own the place.

Dammit, Darby. Pull yourself together.

I’m smoothing the covers to make sure I don’t leave a butt imprint on his freshly made bed when he walks through the door without knocking. No warning other than the quick click of the lock disengaging, not that he should have to issue a warning to enter his own room.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“Good. Really good, I think.”

“That’s great!” He presents me with a gift bag. I was so worried about being caught touching his bed I hadn’t even noticed it in his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Just a little something I picked up for you in Rome.”

“You got me a gift?”

“I promised you jewelry. And I always deliver on my promises.”

“At least I know you didn’t steal it since it’s in a bag.”

“Like a jewel thief can’t be considerate. Open it.”

I sit on his bed again. There’s a small box inside the bag. And inside the box is a necklace with a chunky, silver paperclip chain and a pendant that’s made of some kind of swirly, blue stone. Beneath the stone is a dropped freshwater pearl. It’s exactly the sort of thing I might’ve picked out for myself.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of that crazy guy you met in an airport once.”

“You’re not exactly forgettable, Zane.”

“Good.” He sits in the desk chair and wheels it over so he’s facing me. “So, tell me about the interview.”

I probably tell him more than he wanted to know, practically give him a play-by-play of the entire thing.

“You know they’re going to offer you that job, right? Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Do you not want it?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to be out of my mind not to want this job, but something feels off. I think it’s me. I’m off.”

“You are sleep-deprived. Lie down. I’m supposed to be on vacation, but I’ve seen some emails come through. I said I’d check them when I could, so I’m going to do that now. I’ll probably be awhile. Go to sleep, Darby. It’s fine.”

He says it like it would be the most natural thing in the world for me to crawl into this bed and pass out while he works. I can’t lie, it’s an enticing thought.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He wheels the chair back across the room and pulls his computer from the corner of the desk where I shoved it when I made myself at home there.

I watch him log on. He’s busy. And this empty bed is so inviting.

Fuck it. I do need sleep.

I kick off my shoes, pull the extra blanket from the foot of the bed, and curl up on top of his covers. I’m not about to climb between his fresh sheets, but I do use one of his pillows. I’m warm and cozy, and I know it’ll be no problem at all to drift off here.

The soft tapping of his fingers moving across the keyboard is the only sound as I yawn into the pillowcase . . .

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