Page 117 of Our Long Days
She needs me there at the end.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
florence
Wasit ridiculous of me to leave the front door unlocked last night?
The sound of Dex’s heavy footsteps thumping up my porch and the spare key turning in the lock had me smiling maniacally until I fell asleep.
You can’t change a tiger’s stripes, and though Dex was giving me headspace, the man was born protective. God, I was so grateful he didn’t force me to revisit the past few days or shower me with apologies.
Yes, being apart physically pained me, but in forty-eight hours, the pressure on my chest had lessened significantly. Some might perceive my response to finding the resume an overreaction, but the hurt and turmoil wasn’t simply from that. It was an accumulation of events. My brain and body were tired.
After escaping the office and hiding away in the A-frame, the tears that fell were cathartic. The overflowing well of emotions felt less full, and when my cheeks dried and ribs ached from the aftermath, a fire erupted underneath me.
Shit happened, but I refused to let it stick, not after months of doubt and self-deprecation.
Dex’s panic was obvious when I emerged with his morning coffee, ready to go about my day as normal. I could tell he was itching to apologize, and though him lying about the resume was wrong, the timing of me finding out was worse.
He read me, pushed aside his protective nature, and gave me space.
I promised him I’d be here for the long haul, and I meant that.
One step at a time.
And that first step into the office—my office—was the shock of a lifetime.
The wow factor hasn’t worn off when I walk in this morning.
No more boring beige. Salmon pink covers all four walls. There’s familiar artwork—Aly’s, to be precise. A cream handwoven rug spans the length of the room. Potted plants line the window. Even the chair is new, suede and soft and so much more comfortable than the chair I stubbornly sat in for months. The only thing that remains the same is the rich mahogany desk.
He’d created me a sanctuary.
Before I could thank him yesterday, he disappeared, acting as if nothing had happened.
It took almost an hour for me to stop admiring the room and get to work.
I’d wanted some normalcy, a little space, and he’d understood that.
Wild horses are still stampeding in my chest following his sweet declaration last night. They quicken their pace when I discover a new notebook and pack of colored pens on the desk. The gesture makes me dizzy, and there’s no blaming the paintfumes. As I open the notebook where the marker ribbon lies, the impossible happens.
I fall more in love with Dexter Robert Moore.
Our list
• Download Pinterest app ?
• Ask Quinn how Pinterest works ?
• Redecorate office for my favorite employee ?
Off to the side is a Post-It with an arrow pointing at his messy handwriting.
Florence to add goals.
My grin is uncontainable.
I add two lines.
