“Do you not understand what I’m saying? We now have a direct line of communication with them. Hopefully that will mean less red tape, which should make things easier on us both. In fact, she called to tell me the deadline has been pushed back a week because of some internal scheduling issues.”
“I guess that’s good.”
Astrid was so frustrated she was about to scream, and she was tired of hiding these emotions. She planted both of her hands on his desk. “Are you going to look at me, Clay? Are you going to engage in actual conversation with me?”
His jaw tensed, but he finally looked up at her. “Astrid, I’m trying my best, okay? I just think that it’s better for both of us if we keep some distance at work.”
“That would be nice if we weren’t working on the same crucial project, but we are. And again, just as I told you in LA, you don’t need to take everything so seriously. If we’re done, we’re done. Let’s move on.” She was going to have to repeat those words to herself until she began to believe them. But that was a problem she would keep to herself.
Clay got up from his desk, looked out in the hall, then closed the door behind him. Astrid couldn’t help it, but knowing that they were alone made her stomach do a somersault.
“Miranda knows.” Clay crossed his arms over his chest, which was its own distraction—the way it made his upper arms strain was a little too alluring.
“Wait. What? How?” Astrid couldn’t imagine how they possibly could have given themselves up when they’d gone to Miranda’s house that afternoon. They’d been so careful. Clay had gone out of his way to keep his distance.
“I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Not in the middle of the day in the office. There are too many loose lips.”
He was right on the money about that. “Okay. Well, I’m guessing you don’t want to tell me over a drink or dinner.”
“That’s probably not a great idea.” He ran his hand through his hair. Astrid wished she could be doing that right now. She wished everything standing between them would just go away. “Let’s talk at six, when most people are gone. I’ll get the nanny to stay late with Delia.”
“It’s that serious? Why can’t you just tell me how Miranda knows?”
“There’s more to it than that. I feel like I need to explain myself.”
Astrid wasn’t sure what to think anymore. “Okay, then. I’ll be back at six.”
Clay was watching the clock. Astrid was always on time for everything, and he had a feeling tonight would be no exception. He didn’t relish telling her the things he was about to. He didn’t go about laying his soul bare. It was easier if her kept it all inside and hidden. That way, no one could use his feelings against him.
But after Miranda deduced what had happened in Los Angeles, and after she’d found out that he’d ended things with Astrid then and there, Miranda had insisted. She said that at the very least, Astrid deserved a full explanation of why he felt the way he did. Miranda had also tried to encourage him to give Astrid another chance. He wasn’t sure he could do that. It didn’t seem smart, especially after he’d already done the hard part and cut things off. Still, he did rely on his sister for guidance when it came to matters of the heart. She had a way of getting to the root of things, and most important, she understood him like no one else.
Astrid appeared in his doorway at 6:02, smiling wide and holding a recognizable bag from the bakery across the street. “They’re all sold out of doughnuts this late in the day, but they just pulled some of those monster chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. If we’re going to have a big talk, I figured sugar might lighten the mood.”
For what felt like the one hundredth time, he felt as though he was stuck in the role of the beast while she was the kindhearted beauty. “Thank you so much. I could definitely use a pick-me-up.” He went to his office door and closed it behind Astrid. The click of the latch made it all seem more real. He had to come clean. “Can I get you something to drink?” Clay had a fully stocked mini-fridge in his office. It had been his only request when they’d designed his office.
“Water is fine.”
Clay retrieved two bottles and handed one to her. Drinking in the office might be a relic of the 1950s and ’60s, but Clay could see the appeal right now. A finger or two of bourbon might make this easier.
He joined Astrid on the couch, sitting at the opposite end. She turned to face him, pulling her leg up onto the cushion between them. “I think we should start with how your sister found out what happened. I can’t see where we could’ve possibly tipped our hand at her house.” As if to soften the blow of the topic, she handed over the bakery bag after pulling out a cookie for herself.
“When I was video chatting with Miranda and Delia, I sat in the chair in the corner of the room and you got up to walk to the bathroom. There was a mirror behind me and she saw your naked reflection. It was only a split second, but she saw it.” He’d been so distracted, he hadn’t noticed it at all, but then again, he’d had the real thing right in his field of view.
“You don’t think Delia saw me, do you? That would be horrible.” She took an anxious bite of her cookie.
“I asked Miranda that same question, but she’s pretty sure Delia would’ve said something.”
“Okay, good.” Astrid cracked open her water and took a long drink.
Clay tried hard not to fixate on the
