Page 106 of Things I Overshared
I smile at his joy over canceled plans. “He did?”
“He did,” he says, talking as if he’s not busy destroying me in the best way with his hand. I smile back at him. His eyes are hooded as he watches me. “You are so gorgeous, Samantha.”
“You look like coffee ice cream in that suit,” I blurt. “Every time you’ve worn it, I’ve thought,I want to lick him.”
He slows. “Every time? Even back home?”
“Uh-huh,” I pant up to him. He smiles and changes whatever sleight of hand magic he’s doing, as if he’s simply decided it’s time for me to finish. And I do.
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“What about teaching?” He lowers the menu to look at me.
We decided to go to our fancy reservation without Dan, the prospect we were supposed to meet. The Guy Savoy restaurant is world-famous and outrageously expensive, so I figured Emerson the CFO would want us to change our plan, but he insisted I get to experience it.
The wine, the bread, every course, the twinkling candles and romantic atmosphere—it’s all been amazing. But it could just be the company. Emerson’s relief at our canceled plans has made him more playful and talkative than ever. That’s not very talkative at all, really, but the additional words tonight have been noteworthy.
“I thought about it . . . I even subbed a few classes, but alas, no singing angels.” I butter another tiny piece of what I’ve dubbed Heaven Bread. “I obviously love kids, so I thought I’d love being with them all day, but it didn’t feel right. I even tried a few different ages—elementary, middle school, high school—but nope.”
“Could you change something about your job to make it enjoyable again?”
“I don’t know, that’s a good question. It’d be a fun challenge if there were all-new people and products for me to memorize.”
“So . . .” He lowers his chin as if the answer is obvious. “Same position, then, but a different company?”
“What? No. I wouldn’t leave the business just to go sell something else.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“I don’t know, that’d feel like . . . a betrayal, I guess.”
“Any other roles interest you within the organization?”
“CEO, maybe,” I joke.
“You could definitely be the CEO.”
“I was just kidding. That’ll be Susan’s job. I don’t think I’d want the pressure. Susan and I are a lot alike, but she’s always been more organized and driven than me.”
“Malarkey.”
I do a double take at the man across from me. “Um, did you just say malarkey? How much wine have you had?”
He beams. “Almost enough to say poppycock.”
“Really?!”
“No.” I laugh, and he smiles wide at me. My breath hitches at the sight. I feel my face change at the sudden, heavy, no-doubt realization that I am 100 percent in love with Emerson Clark.Crap shit crap on a cracker!I take a sip of my wine to hide whatever is happening on my face. Emerson notices, because he notices everything, but he doesn’t say anything.
“So, I’ll just do my best and try to enjoy it, for now. There will always be those hard months when I have to really push myself to hit my quarterly numbers. And I love a lot of it—I love the meetings, the people, I love Manhattan.” He nods. “Which do you prefer, Manhattan or London?”
“Manhattan.”
“Really?” I choke a bit on my bread. “Wow, a traitor.”
“I love them both, but London has . . . baggage.”
“Ah.” I wonder what all he’s not telling me. Clearly more went down with the breakup and his dad than he’s ready to share.
