Page 63 of Crossing Lines

“If she wanted you like that, she’d leave the relationship,” he states.

“They’ve been together five years. That’s probably why she’s hanging on. But I know what I see in her eyes. She isn’t happywith him.” I lean back with a sigh, staring at the paint-splattered ceiling.

“So what are you going to do?” Preston asks.

“Keep showing her who I am.”

Cairo slowly turns his head from side to side. “It’s her decision, man. Don’t push her.”

“I won’t apply too much pressure, but I will make it beyond clear that I want her.”

TWENTY-THREE

The many tasks at work are a welcomed distraction after a weekend that seemed so long.

Walking down the hallway, I glimpse a delivery guy leaving my office. I enter and find a takeout bag from my favorite food shop. The handwritten French words on the front confirm it’s from Kross.

Tu me voulais à Paris

“You wanted me in Paris,” I translate in a murmur. “This man.” Sitting down, I open the bag to check the contents. My lips naturally curl upward at the plastic container with chocolate chip cookies.

I bite into one, moaning while chewing. It’s moist. The sweetness is just right. Not overwhelming. Kross did a great job.

Feeling mushy inside, I call him before eating the veggie rice and brown stew tofu.

“You got your lunch?” he asks as he answers.

“Mmhm. You didn’t have to do that.”

“You said you wanted to try my cookies. I figured I’d send you some with your favorite food.”

“Thank you.” I pause before asking, “Why did you mention Paris? You promised not to bring it up.”

“I promised it’d be a secret between us,” he clarifies. “I’d like to do that again in person.”

“Kross…” I bite my lip, fighting back the yearning. “I’m still in a relationship.”

“Why?” he rasps. “What’s tying you to him? Tell me you love him deeply. Say every moment with me was a mistake. If you can tell me that, I’ll leave you alone.”

I fall quiet, unable to respond to any of what he said.

“Exactly,” he drones, followed by a snort. “You know, I could make it easy for you and send him cookies with my name on it.”

“Don’t. I have to go.”

“Hang on,” he stops me. “Come to the club tonight to have a drink with me.”

“Kross, I’m not sure if—”

“Come chill with me,” he insists. “You want to.”

Losing to the overwhelming force, I tell him, “Fine.”

“Thank you.” The extra smoothness in his tone convinces me he’s grinning. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too.”

As I get off the phone, Iree turns into my office. “Ooh!” She snatches up a cookie, creasing her forehead while she chews. “These taste like Mama G’s.”

---