Lance huffs out a low chuckle. “I actually thought that’s what he was asking at first. And from his reaction, that idea didn’t even occur to him.”
Actually, that seems like the best idea for me. Narrowing my eyes in thought, I drum my fingers on my lower lip. “Why doesn’t he do that, though? Doesn’t that make the most sense? Farm out the marketing to you, he still gets the peace of mind of knowing his friend’s going to do good work and not have to trust a stranger—which I completely understand, by the way—plus you don’t take a pay cut or any additional risk.” My eyes widen and I sit up straight. “Plus, if he shows up to your schmooze-and-booze networking events, he could even land new clients. It’s a win all around, isn’t it?”
Lance seems to deflate a little, and I bite my lip, worried I’ve popped his balloon accidentally. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That … actually does make the most sense.”
Yup, I really have ruined the moment. “I’m sorry. You were getting excited about working with him full time, weren’t you? And I just ruined it.”
He shoots me a reassuring smile and scootches next to me on the couch, pulling me against his side and dropping a kiss on my head. “You didn’t ruin anything. You brought your logical brain to a discussion that should be made with a clear head and not clouded by grand delusions. Part of me thinks it would be great fun to hang with Matt all the time, go with him on some of his trips, and bring you along to translate for us in the Spanish speaking places.”
I grin, envisioning that too. I have to admit, it does sound like fun. “Is there anything that says we can’t do that anyway? You suck at taking your vacation time, something I still blame on your dad, by the way. If we plan biannual week-long surf trips with Matt, that would give you an excuse to use your vacation time. Or”—I straighten—“if he becomes your client, couldn’t you use it as a work trip? I mean, you need to keep up with what he’s doing so you can make sure you still know who his ideal customer is and adequately convey the experience to them, right? Isn’t that part of the deal?”
Now he’s full on laughing. “I’ll have to bring you in to sell that to my bosses.” He pulls me back down against his chest, and I lie against him with a contented sigh. His hand skates up my back. “That’s the kind of sound I like to hear from you,” he whispers against my hair.
“I’m always happy being like this with you. You know that. If you really want to take this job, if you think you’ll be happier working for Matt full time rather than staying on at the Forrester Group and adding him to your client roster, then … well, we can look at what he’s offering and see what we’d need to do to make it work. If you say we can swing it, I believe you, but I’ll feel better seeing the numbers myself.”
He’s quiet for long enough that I turn over so I can look at him. His hand now rests on my belly, and he slips it beneath the hem of my top so it rests on my bare skin, but his gaze is abstract and pointed at the wall, his brows drawn together as he thinks things over. I wait, leaving him to his thoughts for now.
After several minutes tick by in silence, I rub my hand up his arm and give him a squeeze. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” I whisper. “Let’s go to bed.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Evan
Showing up for the retirement party in one of the administration building’s conference rooms takes me back down memory lane. Donor banquets where we were required to schmooze, end of season awards banquets, various departmental functions over the years, they all took place here, and just like those, this one is the standard university banquet buffet. Round tables dot the room covered in alternating white and red tablecloths—Marycliff University colors that nicely double as Christmas decor. Each table has a small pot of poinsettia in the center, either white or red to contrast with the tablecloth, and football, M, and U confetti is scattered around.
Daniel and Elena trail behind Layla and me as we walk into the room, looking around to see who else is here already. Chris and Megan are already here, and Megan waves us over to the table they’ve claimed near the front. Chris is one of the speakers during the stuffy, boring portion of the evening.
Megan’s all smiles as we approach, patting the seat next to her and saying, “Layla, sit here.”
Layla glances at me in surprise, but does as Megan asks while I claim the seat on Layla’s other side. I nod at Chris as I take my seat.
He jerks his chin up in acknowledgment. “How’s it going, man?”
“Good.” I smooth my tie down and glance around the room. More people come through the door in groups and couples. Lance and Abby enter talking with Matt and Hannah, and Megan does the wave and beckon routine again.
Daniel takes the seat next to me, sighing as he unbuttons his suit jacket. “I hate wearing these things,” he grumbles. “Since the season’s over, I shouldn’t have to anymore.”
Elena gives him an unsympathetic glare. “Hush. I wear skirt suits and shapewear regularly when I’m in the courtroom. You can suffer through wearing a suit and tie for a few hours.” A suggestive smile curls her lips, and she makes a
