Disappointment has me looking to verify the time. I’d wanted to walk through the city and see at least a few more things on my list, but he’s right. We’re going to be borderline late as it is.
His lips graze my cheek and then my lips. “I’ll bring you back, I swear.”
“I just thought we had more time, but it’s okay, this morning was…” My cheeks flush as I recall the details of our time in the living room and then again in the shower. “Amazing. If that’s all I was able to take out of this city, I’d be content.”
He smiles fully now. “I’m still bringing you back the first chance we get.” His attention falls to his phone, and his brow furrows as his eyes cut to the sky and then back to his screen.
“Is everything okay?”
He shakes his head, reaching an arm behind his back.
“Avery?”
He doesn’t respond, his focus on whatever message he’s sending in reply. Several minutes pass, his attention still downcast as his thumbs dart across his screen.
“Should we return to the hotel?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
“Clearly, it’s something.”
Tyler sighs, but his shoulders don’t fall. If anything, they grow bigger. “I haven’t checked my phone all day. I knew shit would blow up because of firing Avery, and I just wanted one day to not worry about it or bother with trying to sort through shit. I wanted one day with you. This day. Your day.”
“We had Vegas,” I remind him.
He shakes his head. “I still had to work, and even that stupid fucking poker game was part of it.”
“You just said we have two weeks. We can stretch the trip out. We don’t have to check out tomorrow. Or we can add a couple of days and go see the Oregon coast or stay in Portland? Or just head back and hibernate at your place or my place or both?”
Slowly, he pulls in a breath, and then just as slowly, he nods. “You’re right. This is just the beginning.”
My stomach and chest warm at his words, my heart gallops, and I smile. “Exactly.”
We walk back down to the park to catch a Lyft that takes us through the city to Ghirardelli Square, where a long line of tourists stands.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand.
“We can’t cut in line here. There’s no bouncer, and there are kids.”
Tyler flashes a devilish grin that dares me to question if he could, and I have little doubt that he would. “There’s a pub in the back that most tourists don’t know about, and they serve the same ice cream.”
We walk around the line and red-brick building to a second entrance, where a woman greets us with a piece of dark chocolate.
“Oh,” I say, tearing open the wrapper. “You should ask them if they have any white chocolate.”
His eyebrows go up with surprise.
“I know a lot about you. Two years’ worth of stuff and a few Google searches.” I shrug when his eyes light up with another admission. “There were a lot of rumors about who you were freshman year.”
He laughs. “I’ll bet.”
“Most were wrong,” I add, thinking about the multitude of articles that referred to him as a heartless playboy.
“I’ve made my fair share of mistakes,” he tells me as we join a shorter line to order.
“But they led you to Brighton and Cooper.”
“And you,” he adds, placing his hand on my hip. It’s possessive and strong and like everything about Tyler, addictive.
When we finish our lunch and ice cream, we wait for a car from the hotel to come and pick us up, and though I’m sad not to see more of this city that has been so amazing in the tiny fraction I’ve seen, I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve as we pull up to the hotel, excited for this night and to share it with Tyler.
“Mr. Banks,” a man in a suit says as we enter the hotel. “Sir, your father would like to speak with you.”
I glance at Tyler, wondering if his father was who he’d been responding to while we were on the bridge.
“He’s right this way, sir.” The man holds out a palm toward the front desk.
“Now?” Tyler asks.
The man flinches, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, sir. He insists on meeting with you right away.”
“Meeting?” I ask, the word an awkward shape as it leaves my tongue.
Tyler sighs heavily, his hand at my waist loosening. “Why don’t you go get changed and take a car to the event. This might take a bit.” He faces me, his blue eyes roving across my face. “I will be there as soon as I can, before the speeches and champagne.”
“I can wait.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to be late. We should have just stopped and bought some clothes and gone. I had no idea he’d come all the way here.” He stretches his neck, his jaw ticking with impatience. “There should be a bag inside the room. Bring it with you.”
“A bag?”
“A gift.”
“A gift?”
He chuckles, his thumbs brushing along my jaw. “Be careful. If you’re going to repeat everything I say, I’m going to start talking a lot dirtier. To hell with having an audience.”
I feel the stain of embarrassment creep along my cheeks.
He laughs, and though it’s bridled, it’s genuine and calms the butterflies in my stomach. “I’ll see you soon.” He leans forward, kissing me.
29
Tyler
I’m escorted into the conference room like a prisoner. Inside the small room, my father sits at the head of the table, a glass tumbler in one hand.
I take a deep breath, waiting for him to begin yelling, already knowing the points he’s going to hit and ill-prepared for most. After all, my decision to fire Avery was only half logic; the rest was purely personal.
Dad nods at the employee he’s treated like a lackey, waiting for the door to close before turning his attention to me. “You took a very considerable risk yesterday.”
I have to cock my head to the side to ensure I heard him right. My dad isn’t one for small talk. He also doesn’t play mind games when it comes to anger—he saves that for revenge when someone dares to cross him.
I’m still not positive I haven’t.
“I spent most of my flight going over things with Phil”—my father’s right-hand man—“and we agree with your decision. It was risky and impulsive, but Ken Avery was positioned to steal more from us than what we would have gained in litigation, so I stand by your decision.”
I’ve avoided his calls, emails, and texts for nearly twenty-four hours. I know this isn’t all of what he’s come to say, because if it were, he wouldn’t have boarded a plane and come this far. “Where’s Lewis?”
Dad’s smile gives nothing away, calm and reserved as if I’ve just talked about the nice weather or complimented his suit. “Have a seat. Let’s talk.”
I glance at the clock, wondering if Chloe’s still upstairs getting changed or if she’s left for the event. “I have plans tonight. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be coming out here.”