And I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it?
She stares at me for several moments, then her gaze falls to the floor. The song ends. And she starts to pull away. “I’m sorry, Drew. I just…can’t.”
I try to hold on. Like a drowning man gripping a life preserver.
“Kate…”
“I should go.”
No no no no no. I’m losing her.
“Don’t do this.”
Her eyes harden like molten lava when it cools to black rock. “Your time’s almost up. This was lovely. But…”
This is not fucking happening. It’s like watching your receiver fumble the ball when you’re up by three with twenty seconds left on the clock. She turns toward the door. But I grab her arm and force her to look at me. My voice sounds desperate. Because I am.
“Just hold on. You can’t go yet. There’s one more thing I have to show you. Give me ten more minutes. Please, Kate.”
Look at her face. Right now.
She wants to stay. No—she wants me to convince her to stay. To give her a reason to believe in me again. And if this doesn’t do it, nothing on God’s green earth ever will.
“Okay, Drew. Ten more minutes.”
The breath rushes out of me. “Thank you.”
I let go of her arm, grab a black silk scarf off the chair and hold it up. “You can’t take this off until I tell you, okay?”
Suspicion washes over her face. “Is this some kind of weird sex thing?”
I chuckle. “No. But I like the way you think.”
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling right before I cover them with the scarf, and the world as she knows it fades to black.
Chapter 27
EVERY NEW ASSOCIATE at Evans, Reinhart and Fisher gets to redecorate his or her office. We’re not the only firm with this kind of policy. It’s good business. Makes employees feel comfortable, like a piece of the company belongs to them. The choices of paint colors and furniture patterns aren’t unlimited—but at a firm like ours, the pallet is pretty vast. That’s how I got my inspiration. How I was able to figure out what Kate prefers.
She’s not into florals, and I thank Christ for that. She likes stripes, paisleys, and earth tones. Why am I telling you this, you ask? What does it have to do with anything?
You remember the Bat Cave, don’t you? My home office. My firstborn. My strictly dickly, men-only region? Well, it’s gotten a sex change. No, that’s not really accurate. It’s more of a hermaphrodite now.
Watch.
I turn the light on and bring Kate to the middle of the room. Then I untie the scarf.
Her eyes widen. “Oh, my…”
The once burgundy walls are now a majestic blue. The English leather couches are history. In their place are two sofas, striped in warm tan and the same deep blue as the walls. My desk is shifted to the left—to make room for the lighter cherry one that sits next to it, side by side, like a bride and groom on their wedding day. The picture window behind them is framed with drapes in the same material as the sofas. And the poker table’s still in the corner. But now it’s got a stiff brown cover over it—to support the large, leafy plant that sits on top. I don’t usually do live plants. My thumb’s about as green as Morticia Adams’s. But the interior decorator said women were into them. Some shit about the nurturing instinct.
Pretty amazing what you can accomplish in a short time when you’ve got an interior decorator with a team of workers at your disposal and money isn’t an issue, right? But curtains are a real bitch to hang. I did those myself—wanted to personally add a few touches. And I almost put the rod through the frigging window a dozen times before I got them straight.
I watch Kate’s face closely. But I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She’s blank. Stunned. Like an eyewitness to a double homicide.
I swallow hard. And start the most important pitch of my life:
“I watched The Notebook again.”
It’s still so fucking gay.
However…
“I get it now. Why Noah put that art room together for Allie. It wasn’t because he was a vagina; it was because he didn’t have a choice. She was it for him. No matter what he did, there was never gonna be anyone but her. So all he could do was set up the room and hope to God that one day she’d show up to use it. And that pretty much sums up exactly how I feel about you. So I did this—” I gesture around the room “—because I want you in my life, Kate. Permanently.”
Her eyes settle on me. And they’re shining with tears.
“I want you to move in here with me. I want to fall asleep with your hair in my face every night. And I want to wake up wrapped around you every morning. I want us to spend whole weekends without any clothes on at all. I want to have clean fights and dirty makeup sex.”