Page 286 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Huh? “Cute story . . .I guess.” Holding my finger up, I add, “You’re also frustrating.”

“Again, not the first one to call me that. But you mean it in an utterly adorable way, right? Not like this mean nanny I had at five used to call me?”

Staring at him, I say, “Yeah, totally. How many nannies did you go through?”

He lies in bed, exposing those manly hairs on his chest—maintained, but still enough for me to run my fingers over. He woke up just to spend time with me. I’m glad he did. It just makes my heart ache a little to know this might be it for the day.

With a chuckle, he replies, “A few, but who’s counting?”

“Your mom most likely.” I giggle. Wiping the mascara wand on the bottle, I say, “I just don’t understand why we can’t order in when you get back? I like being home with you and the last option you mentioned.” Leaning forward, I open my mouth as I put on mascara like I’m performing surgery—meticulous to coating each lash individually.

“The sex? You like the sex, Tate. That’s good to hear because I can’t wait to be with you again.”

“I just miss spending time with you.”

“That’s music to my ears, but we’ve gone from zero to sixty in a matter of two weeks at best. I’m not complaining, but I feel like I’ve failed you in some ways.”

“You haven’t.”

“Let me take you out on a date.” I hold up the phone to see his face and smile when I do. He’s lying on his side, appearing ready to fall asleep again.

Can I really deny him something he wants so badly?“If it means that much to you?—”

“It does.”

“Okay,” I reply, kissing the screen and wishing it was really him. I move back into the bedroom to retrieve my shoes. “What should I wear?”

“Something that makes you feel pretty.”

“How about something that you think is pretty on me?” I waggle my eyebrows at the phone.

“No. I think you’re gorgeous with nothing on or dressed for a party and every way in between. So wear what makes you feel your best because you’re beautiful to me.”

Swooning was something I thought only happened in fairy tales, the movies, or romance novels but never to me. Yet here I am, about to fall backward on the mattress needing a moment to recover from his charm. “You make it hard to go to work.”

“You make it hard.”

“Only a couple of times last night,” I say, giving him a wink.

Holding the phone to his mouth, he kisses me. I hope we always start our day together, whether he’s here or there.

We could,whispers a voice in the back of my head.

This could be my life.

All I have to do is not screw it up.

He asks, “How’s six thirty tomorrow night?”

Just take it.

“That works.” I can tell he’s tired. New York being three hours ahead gives me the advantage. “I think you’re wonderful.”

“Oh yeah?” He licks his lips, and it’s seriously distracting. “What happened to incorrigible and frustrating?”

“I think I was seeing everything through the wrong lens.”

“And now you’re not?”

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