Page 29 of Just a Little Crush

Owen scrunched up his face. “What is macro…” The rest of the word was a garbled, indecipherable attempt at repeating the term.

Stevie laughed, the sound light and amused. “It’s sort of like math, but super boring and makes me want to take a nap.”

I chuckled. “So, what degree are you pursuing?” I asked, curious to know, well, everything I could about her.

“One in marketing,” she said, twirling her spaghetti noodles around the tines of her fork. “I’ve been interning at Dare PR for a little over a year now, and my boss has already promised me that they’ll hire me full-time once I finish school, which will enable me to quit waitressing and have one job that pays me well.”

I couldn’t help but admire how hard she was working to build a secure future for herself. “And what, exactly, do you do at Dare PR?”

“Anything and everything PR related,” she said with a light laugh. “Advertising and promotions for clients, of course, but right now I’m working on a social media campaign for a specific client, focusing mainly on branding and content creation.”

The unfettered enthusiasm in her voice and sparkle in her eye as she talked about Dare PR told me that she loved what she did.

“And what about you?” she asked, turning the subject to me. “Any big real estate sales lately?”

“There’s always something in the works,” I said, and realized this was a perfect opening for next week’s dinner with Gerard Laurent. “Next Wednesday, I’d like to bring you with me to a business dinner with one of our biggest clients. If all goes well, he’ll be purchasing a triplex penthouse at Central Park Tower, so a little schmoozing is in order.”

“Are you sure?” She fiddled nervously with the stem of her wineglass, looking uneasy. “I mean, I’m not sure why you’d need me there.”

Need? No. “How about it’s as simple as I want you there.”

“I think that’s a little outside of my comfort zone.”

“You’re my girlfriend, so consider it part of the job,” I said, then gentled my tone when I saw the genuine insecurities in her gaze. “All you need to do is be yourself, Stevie. And Beck’s wife, Chloe, will be there, too. I know she’ll enjoy your company. There’re a few other events I’ll be taking you to, as well, so we’ll discuss those later. I’m just glad not to have to attend them solo anymore.”

She exhaled a deep breath. “Sounds like I’m going to need a social calendar to keep track of everything.”

“And don’t forget my birthday!” Owen chimed in. “I’m going to be seven!”

“When is your birthday?” Stevie asked, smiling at him. “Because that is something I definitely don’t want to miss.”

“It’s…It’s…” A frown furrowed between Owen’s brows as he glanced at me. “When is it again, Dad?”

“In a few weeks,” I told him.

Owen huffed. “You said thatlasttime.”

“That’s because it’s still in a few weeks,” I tried to explain, knowing that probably seemed like a lifetime to a child.

“Oh.” He thought about that for a moment, then his eyes lit up again as he looked at Stevie. “We’re going to the beach for my birthday!”

“That sounds like fun,” she said, then finished off the last of her Chianti.

“It’s a small family weekend planned at the Hamptons,” I explained. “I have a membership at the Dune Deck Beach Club and it’ll be Remy and Raven and Cara, and us.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and she gave her head a slight shake. “Then you should all go and have a nice getaway. I don’t need to be there.”

Owen pouted. “But I want you there.”

“And so do I,” I said, for more reasons than just the pretense of being my girlfriend at a resort where Alyssa was also still a member, which she’d insisted on as part of the divorce settlement.

I recognized the uncertainty in her eyes. “Where would I stay?”

I knew she was asking because of the morality clause, and it still being an issue of her staying overnight with me when I was with Owen, even if she was my girlfriend. “You can room with Cara. I’ll book a two-bedroom suite for you and her to stay in.” She opened her mouth, and I cut off whatever she intended to say. “No arguments, and who wants a brownie with ice cream?” I asked, knowing that would put an end to the subject.

“I do, I do!” Owen shouted, right on cue.

“Then help me clear the table and we’ll have dessert,” I promised him.

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