by Gem Frost
But slowly, as he realized no one was going to stone either of us, he’d gotten a little more relaxed about it. He held hands with me in the daylight now, and even occasionally dropped kisses onto my mouth in front of people. Which was fine, except I didn’t want everyone at the office to think I was sleeping my way up. And more importantly, I didn’t want Alex to think that.
Alex looked offended. “I would never—”
“Yeah, yeah. You can swear you won’t give me preferential treatment all day long, but no one believes it. They know you’re head over heels for me, you big sap.”
“I am not head over—”
“Of course you are. And you should be. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, and don’t you forget it. But it’s not cool to be screwing the boss, Alex. It’s just not. That’s why I got another job.”
He heaved a sigh, resting his hip on the edge of my desk. “I’ll miss you,” he said softly.
“Chill, dude. The bank where I’m working is one single solitary block away. If you want to keep doing nooners, I’m sure we can arrange that.”
“It’s not just that.” He coughed, looking uncomfortable. “It’s more that I’ll miss… your smile.”
“Jesus. You really are turning into a sap, you know that?”
He glared at me, looking like he was about to tell me I was fired. Too bad for him that I’d already given notice. “You’re really determined to go through with this?”
“I already got the job. And I told you I was quitting two weeks ago. So yeah, Alex. I’m going.”
“Fine.” His blue eyes softened, looking less like chips of ice, and more like the summer sky. “Good luck.”
“You too. And remember to treat your people right, okay?”
He nodded. In six months, Snow and Associate’s corporate culture had undergone a massive shift. It wasn’t just the birthday parties—though there were quite a lot of birthdays, in such a big company, and every one of them was celebrated nowadays. Not just the executives, either; the peons (like yours truly) got their time in the sun as well. I’d made sure of that.
But it wasn’t just that, or even that Alex had quit threatening to fire everyone constantly. It was more that the people I met in the hallways no longer shambled around like haggard zombies. They smiled at each other when they crossed paths and exchanged friendly greetings, and quite often I saw knots of people clustered together, engaged in animated and energetic conversations. There was a kind of creative electricity in the company that hadn’t been there before. It had become a downright pleasant place to work.
It was really too bad I had to go.
Steeling myself, I picked up my box and looked him in the eyes. “I’m leaving now,” I informed him.
He heaved a long, unhappy sigh. “All right. I’ll miss you.”
“I know. I’ll miss you too.” I grinned at him. “A lot.”
I rode the elevator down and walked through the huge, marble-floored lobby, out into the afternoon sunlight. As I walked away from Snow and Associates, I looked back up at the huge building. Funny, but it didn’t look so much like it was carved out of a glacier now. Maybe it was just the autumn sunshine, but the way the light glinted off it made it look bright and cheerful and friendly.
On Monday, I’d start a new job with a different company. But I’d miss the hell out of Snow and Associates. Not just Alex, but everyone there.
And the cakes. I’d definitely miss the totally awesome cakes.
I dropped my box of stuff into the trunk of my Cruze, then went around it and opened the door. As I did, my phone buzzed. I looked at the screen, unsurprised to see a text from Alex.
Don’t forget about dinner.
I glanced up at the building. He was probably up there in his office, watching me leave. I was tempted to wave, but instead I just texted him back.
How could I forget? We do dinner together every night.
You should just move in, he responded. You’re underfoot all the time anyway.
Maybe one of these days, Alex. Or maybe you should move into my apartment. You’re there just as often as I’m at your place.
I suppose that’s true. One way or the other, I can’t seem to get rid of you. Perhaps the two of us should simply go ahead and get married.
Dude. I’m way too young to talk about marriage. Try me again in a couple of years, okay?
All right. I will.
Sure enough, he did, precisely two years to the day later (because Alexander Rutherford Snow III was nothing if not precise). He could have taken me anywhere in the world to pop the question—to the Bahamas, or Paris, or Hawaii, or Niagara Falls—but instead he proposed in the dark, abandoned, weed-infested parking lot where we’d first kissed.
I kissed him again (and again and again) and said yes.
We married six months after that, on the lawn of the Glass House, with daffodils blooming in a bright, sunny mass all around us as we said our vows. My parents and all our many friends cheered for us as we walked back down the grassy aisle arm in arm. It was a gorgeous ceremony, and the reception was even better, with dancing, great music, and a whole lot of laughter.
Not to mention the fact that our wedding cake was totally awesome.
Other books by Gem Frost
Teaching Dallas
Billionaire’s Valentine
Our First Christmas
