Page 34 of The Confidentiality Clause
I nod and push myself up out of the water. I’m tempted to see if she’s staring at me, but I don’t allow myself to check. It’s for the best.
The next morning, I awake to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of pop music. I drag a hand over my face. Sleep has crusted over my eyes, and there’s a wet spot under my cheek that indicates I drooled last night. I worked until three in the morning. Ariel went to bed well before that, murmuringgoodnightas she dripped water through the cabin. When I finally crawled to bed, I was so exhausted I forgot to set an alarm.
I groggily search for my phone in the tangle of sheets. When I finally find it, the time on the screen has me shooting up. It’s almost nine in the morning. I shouldn’t have let myself sleep that long. With how many emails and messages I left unread last night, I needed every hour of today to catch up.
I slide a t-shirt over my head and stumble out of the bedroom. Dappled rays of sunlight illuminate the hall. The rich scent of coffee mixes with the sweet scent of flowers and pine drifting through a nearby open window. When I enter the living room, I notice that a few more windows and the back door are open too. A soft breeze lifts the bottom of my flannel pajama pants.
Ariel is dancing in the kitchen. She flips a piece of what looks to be French toast, then sways her hips and sings along to the song, pretending her spatula is a microphone. She spins in a circle and catches sight of me. But instead of blushing or stuttering, she simply grins.
“Morning, Carolina!”
I smile as I walk over and sit at the kitchen island. There’s a wooden cutting board with an array of chopped fruit on top next to a bowl of whipped cream. Looks like another gourmet meal is in the making.
“You’re in a chipper mood.” I swipe a piece of kiwi off the cutting board.
“It’s a beautiful Saturday. I’m not working, the sun is shining, and I'm about to eat French toast. What’s there to be sad about?”
“My presence isn’t raining on your parade?”
Her smile morphs into a smirk. “The day is young.”
I laugh. “It’s not that early. I can’t believe I slept in this late.”
Ariel turns back to the stove. “It’s not sleeping in if you go to bed at three in the morning.”
“How did you know what time I went to bed?” I question.
She throws a smile over her shoulder. “I texted Cohen until late last night. You might not have to be my date after all if things keep going this well.”
My smile is brittle. “That’s great. I hope it works out for you.”
And I do. As much as she annoys me sometimes, she deserves to have that family life she wants. It’s just a little hard to be fully on board when last night I had the briefest thought of kissing her in the hot tub.
She lets out a happy sigh. “Me too.”
“If all goes well, I’ll be free of you too. You’ll be too busy taking care of him to pay attention to me.”
She turns around with a tray of golden brown French toast. “I won’t need to take care of him. He’s a doctor. He’s got his life together.”
Any traces of a smile are officially wiped off my face. “I run a multi-million dollar business. My life is together.”
“Your sister sent me to bring you food because she was worried you weren’t eating enough.”
“Mysisterthinks you shouldn’t be dating this guy because of how he treats his dogs. Her judgment is impaired.”
Ariel shoots me a glare before turning back around to pull plates down from the cabinet. “You don’t have time right now to take care of yourself, much less someone else. Cohen could take care of me, and that’s what I want.”
She sets the plates down on the island.
“Do you really think he’s going to have more time than me?” I snap back. “You keep droning on and on about how he’s a doctor. You realize doctors work crazy hours, right? He’ll probably spend less time with you than you think.”
She’s flustered as she assembles a plate of French toast, throwing the pieces on there and haphazardly scattering fruit on top.
“You don’t know that. His values are in order. He wants a wife and kids.” She opens a drawer, pulls out a fork, then slams it shut.
“Guys say that all the time. That doesn’t mean he’s going to rearrange his schedule for you.”
She drops a dollop of whipped cream on top of her French toast, then sets her plate down hard. “I thought you said you hoped this would work out?”
