They also had great slushy virgin margaritas, which were perfect on a steamy summer day.Īfter waiting in line about ten minutes, I ordered only two tacos, since I hadn’t hit the gym in way too long. We went to the place with the great tacos that we’d gone to the last time he had met me for lunch. He linked his fingers with mine and led me out of the Crossfire. He muttered something under his breath and hugged me. “I missed you,” I said, meaning it with all my heart, even though he wouldn’t know exactly why. I hugged him, my cheek pressed to his chest. I was hurrying toward him before I thought of it, then ran straight into him so hard, his breath left him with a grunt. Heads turned as he walked by and he didn’t notice, his attention on me. He kept his shades on, and with his hands shoved in his pockets, he seemed distant and cool. He was striding toward me wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts and a V-neck T-shirt. I jerked out of my thoughts at the sound of my best friend’s voice. If Cary felt a growing distance between us, finding out I’d gotten hitched over the weekend wouldn’t help. Still, I found myself grateful that I’d tucked my wedding ring into the zippered pocket of my purse. I had convinced myself he’d be okay with having Gideon join our living arrangements because I couldn’t imagine facing the alternative-having to choose between my best friend and my boyfriend.Īnd now there was no choice. I’d gone over my brief conversation with Cary again and again and knew he was right. As I waited for him, my nerves started getting to me. I was down in the lobby by five after noon, but Cary hadn’t arrived yet. Glancing at the clock, I refocused on work and returned to writing my e-mail. Would the announcement of our marriage, or even an engagement, change that? Gideon and I were trying to move forward with our lives, but people and issues from our pasts were still trying to hold us back. I gave him directions and he hung up, leaving me feeling somewhat whiplashed by the call. “Five o’clock? There’s a wine bar not too far from the Crossfire.” What the hell did he want from me? I supposed if I wanted to know, I’d have to follow through. “What time is best for us to meet today?” Sitting back in my chair, I said, “Bonjour, Monsieur Giroux.”
I answered with my usual greeting and heard a reply in a familiar French accent. I was drafting a reply to the artist working on a gift card campaign when my desk phone rang. I tucked it in an envelope and dropped it in my out-box. My feet tapped out a little happy dance beneath my desk.
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