Authors: Tracey Livesay
“You asked me what your word meant to me and I said it meant everything. I was wrong. I put so much focus on what you
said
to me that I let it eclipse who you
are
to me.
You
are everything. I love you, Chelsea Grant. And I know that because every monad in my soul and body scream out your name, every waking moment of every day. I’m sorry for hearing you but not listening and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”
A silly grin lifted her lips as he kissed her. Her pulse raced and a feeling of pure satisfaction ran through her body. God, she loved this man. This sexy, intelligent, caring, literal, challenging, exasperating man.
He
was everything and he was all hers.
“Can we go now?” he said in her ear, over all the commotion. Now that the two of them had finished with their spectacle, the reporters hurried to get the information about the HPC—and his shocking declaration—to their readers and viewers. “You know, center of attention and crowds . . .”
She pulled back and stared at him. “Are you kidding me? You were fantastic. But if it bothered you that much, why did you do it in front of all of these people? I would’ve been happy with just the two of us in a dark room.”
He smoothed her curls and kissed her forehead. “I thought you’d approve. It’s the perfect PR move.”
She laughed. “It wasn’t enough to release an innovative device, you also had to give them a love story. Going out of your way to make sure no one is talking about anyone other than you this week?”
“This was a success because of you. I couldn’t have done any of that without you.”
“You could’ve, but thank you for the appreciation.” She grimaced. “Can you hold on to that feeling? I’ll have to depend on your hospitality for a little while longer. I quit my job.”
“I know. Your boss called me. That promotion meant so much to you and you were willing to give it up for me.” He stroked his fingers over her cheekbones and her lips. “But you don’t have to. Why don’t you give them a call? We’ll tell them it was all a misunderstanding.”
She shrugged. “If I call them now, they’ll just put me to work on another assignment.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I could use a vacation.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yup. I’ll let them sweat awhile. Besides, I have a little leverage. I happen to personally know the CEO of Computronix.”
“Ummm, how fortunate for you.”
“You have no idea.”
“I bet I do. I’m kind of a genius.”
T
HOUGH THE
S
EPTEMBER
sun shone brightly through the tops of the trees and spilled into the great room through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Chelsea only had eyes for Adam.
Her pulse raced and her heart thundered a bit out of control. She crossed her arms, leaned against the far wall and watched him circulate among their guests.
It wasn’t his dark good looks, although faded jeans clung to his strong thighs and he transformed a plain white T-shirt into a lethal weapon. No, his considerable sex appeal paled in comparison to the effort he put into entertaining their families. Despite their personal affiliation to everyone in the room, Chelsea knew the small crowd still made Adam uncomfortable. But he did it.
Because she’d asked him to.
“Stop mooning over him. It’s embarrassing,” Jonathan said, coming over and draping an arm around her shoulders.
“Jealousy isn’t an attractive trait.”
“It is on me.”
Oh,
Lord.
“You’re too charming for your own good.”
He stood with his jean-clad legs spread apart, his light blue shirt making his brown eyes flash. “Is that possible?”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, it is. You could have someone moon over you. It only requires you to look at a woman the way you look at your ovens at Quartet.”
“My ovens will do anything I ask them to. Can you say the same thing about women?”
She punched his arm.
“Ouch!” He grabbed his bruised limb. When a couple of people swung in their direction, he straightened. “Quick, look happy. Adam will have my ass if I upset you.”
On cue, Adam’s narrowed gaze landed on them and he frowned.
“Shit, I’m in trouble.”
“You’re fine.” She blew a kiss to Adam, who eyed them for a long moment, before allowing his “sell-a-million-HPCs” smile to spread across his face. He nodded and returned to his conversation.
“It’s great his dad and sister could make it,” Jonathan said.
“Yeah.”
It was the first time she’d met Richard Bennett in person, though they’d FaceTimed on several occasions since the HPC product launch. They’d taken Rick—as he’d insisted she call him—and Adam’s oldest sister, Sarah, to dinner the night before, after their flight from Colorado. His youngest sister, Amy, stayed behind in Colorado, her doctor declaring her grounded eight months into her pregnancy.
In his early sixties, Rick was a handsome man. His thick dark hair was threaded with strands of silver and fine lines fanned from his hazel eyes and bracketed his smiling mouth. During dinner, it was clear to see their temperaments were worlds apart, but there was no mistaking how much the older man loved his son.
“Adam said you’re close to opening the restaurant.”
“I am. I’m really excited about it. We’re in a great location. I hope you guys can fly out for the opening.”
“We wouldn’t miss it.”
“Miss what?” Indi asked, coming up on her other side. After spending several months in Nashville, Indi had tired of sweet tea, cowboy boots, and country music and had decided to work her way back to the West Coast, gracing them with her presence. Her sister’s look was ever-evolving and since the last time Chelsea had seen her, Indi had traded in her twists for long, beachy waves.
“The opening of Jonathan’s new restaurant in DC.”
Indi tilted her head and twined her fingers through the ends of her hair. “Really? If it’s anything like Quartet, I’m there.”
He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “You’re a fan of my food?”
Were they any other people, Chelsea might be concerned about her sister flirting with one of Adam’s best friends. If they got involved and it didn’t work out, the aftermath could create a potentially awkward situation. But between Jonathan’s devotion to his restaurants and Indi’s aversion to responsibility, there wasn’t potential for anything serious to develop between them.
They were two peas in a commitment-phobic pod.
“So I can expect you with Chelsea and Adam?”
“Sure.” Indi stroked his forearm and smiled at him through her lashes. “As long as Jeremy doesn’t mind.”
Jonathan lifted a brow, an uncertain smile hovering. “Who’s Jeremy?”
“Shoot me now,” Chelsea muttered, rolling her eyes. She caught Mike’s gaze, who stood on the other side of the room, watching them. She crossed the floor toward him, her knee-high brown leather boots clicking on the hard surface.
“Having fun?” she asked.
“Loads,” he said, his voice indicating otherwise. He rolled a highball glass between his palms and stared into its contents.
Chelsea shifted her weight onto her back foot and inventoried the man before her. His navy slacks, white dress shirt, and slate-gray blazer were impeccably tailored and the flawless fit emphasized his urbane leanness. But his blond hair was mussed and his blue eyes seemed haunted with a solemnity that didn’t fit the celebration.
“Everything okay?”
“I just have a lot on my mind. Work.”
“I thought work was going well?”
Computronix sold eighty million HPCs during the past quarter, making it the most profitable quarter in Computronix’s history, and according to Adam, it showed no signs of slowing down.
“We owe much of that to you. I knew it was an exceptional product, but your work with him ensured that others would know it, too.”
“He created the device, you knew he needed help. I played a small part.”
“Can we agree on small but significant?”
“We can.”
They shared a smile and Mike raised his glass to her. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Thank you.”
Once Beecher & Stowe understood that she and the Computronix account were a package deal, she accepted their sweetened partnership offer with a bump in compensation and the responsibility to run their new San Francisco office.
“We’re looking for a place in San Mateo,” she continued. “It’s a good halfway point between San Francisco and Palo Alto. I’m not interested in driving an additional thirty minutes up the mountain each day.”
“It’s been great having Adam back on the company’s campus. We’ve missed him.” He motioned to the room with his tumbler-occupied hand. “What about this?”
“The house?” At his nod, she continued, “We’ll keep it. Adam made me promise we’ll escape up here for a long weekend once a month. And I’ll make it happen. I know how much he needs it.”
Mike pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead. “He’s a lucky son of a bitch.”
“He is, but so am I.”
“Why does every man in this room feel the need to fondle my woman?” Adam asked, twin grooves appearing on his forehead. He nuzzled his nose in the mass she’d pulled into a high ponytail. “I love your curls.”
She leaned away from him and smoothed her fingers over his features, quivering with pleasure when his teeth grazed the pads of her thumbs. “No one is fondling me.”
“I hope not,” Indi said, popping up again. “My impressionable eyes couldn’t endure it.”
“You could leave,” Mike said, his voice tight.
Chelsea’s eyes widened and silence smothered the buoyancy of the past several seconds.
Indi recovered first. She shoved her hands on her hips. “I could, but I’m not. In fact, I’ll be staying here for a few months, until I can get on my feet.”
Adam’s head ricocheted in her direction. “She’s joking, right?”
“Yes, my love,” Chelsea said, even as Indi glared at Mike and mouthed the word “no.”
Where had that come from? What was going on with Mike? She shot Indi a questioning look. The other woman shook her head, her full lips pursed.
When Adam slipped away from their guests and headed into the kitchen, she followed, gasping when he grabbed a tray of champagne flutes out of the refrigerator.
“When did you do that?” she asked.
He winked at her. “I have my surprises.”
She cupped his cheeks in her hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll have to find a way to surprise
you
later.”
“I hate being on the receiving end of surprises, but I love you. I can’t wait,” he said, stealing a kiss the same way he’d stolen her heart.
Stealthily and before she’d known what was happening.
She smiled, appreciating his proficiency in making her feel special. It wasn’t always easy. They both had demanding jobs and making their relationship a priority took work. She sometimes found his literalness exhausting, and he got frustrated when she didn’t plainly state what she needed. There were word merry-go-rounds and misunderstandings, but she would do anything for him and he loved her more fiercely and with more devotion than she’d ever experienced in her life.
She wouldn’t trade what they’d found for all the partnerships, million-dollar salaries and corner offices in the world.
Once everyone was in possession of a glass, Adam came and stood by her side. He inhaled deeply. “Thank you all for coming up to our home on the mountain. We wanted to celebrate everything that’s happened to us in the past six months with the people who matter most. We’re fortunate to be surrounded by old friends, make the acquaintance of new ones, and reconnect with family.”
He placed his hand over his heart and nodded at Sarah and Rick, whose chin trembled in an effort to rein in his emotions.
“So here’s to great friends and family. They know you well . . . and still choose to like you!”
Everyone laughed and a chorus of “Cheers!” rang out in the large space.
“Where did you find that toast?” she asked, raising her glass and accepting a kiss from the man who was truly the love of her life.
“The internet,” he whispered in her ear, not even bothering to pretend he didn’t understand her question. He stared into her eyes and kissed her once more. “Only one thing could top off this extraordinary moment.”
Adam collected her champagne flute, placing it next to his on the counter. He gathered her hands in his and she began to tremble as she realized what was happening.
“The day you swept onto my mountain was the best day of my life. I love you and want to ‘emotionally bond’ with you forever.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. Opening it, he presented her with a breathtaking three-carat, round-cut diamond flanked by five sapphire accent stones on each side.
“It reminded me of the underwater aquarium from our date at the science museum. So, Chelsea Grant, will you marry me?”
Her hands flew to cover her mouth.
Oh. My. God. “Yes!”
He barely had the opportunity to slide the ring on her finger before she was whisked away from him by Indi and Sarah, both women gushing over her ring. Above their bent heads, she watched Adam accept hugs and well wishes from his father and best friends.
A little over six months ago, she’d believed a promotion would be the best thing that could happen to her. Now she knew how foolish she’d been. She’d spent years on an endless quest to acquire things. But what she’d told Adam had been true: it all would’ve meant nothing if losing him had been the cost to acquire it.
“How did I do?” he asked, when they managed to steal away for a moment alone.
Brimming with love and happiness, Chelsea flung herself into his embrace and closed her eyes when his strong arms enclosed her. She had loyal friends, a job she could be proud of, and the man she loved. It should be unfair for a person to possess this much bliss.
“You were amazing. But I’d expect nothing less from my very own genius.”
T
HIS STORY WAS
born from love . . . a love letter to me and my love for my eldest son.
My husband wrote me this incredible letter when we were dating in law school. It was so unique—who quotes a dead mathematician and philosopher as a way to explain all-encompassing love? I kept that letter for twenty years, and when I knew I was going to write about a computer engineer, I knew I would use that letter as a way for the hero to profess his love to the heroine.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about my oldest son, who is a total cutie. He’s smart, talented, and he has Asperger’s. I’m a romantic, and I want my son to experience the same kind of love I share with his father. It takes a special person to see beyond the outer quirks to the person within and I wanted to write this story for him. I’m glad I did. It’s my favorite of the ones I’ve written so far.
Thank you to my family for understanding my need to write, especially my kids, who will tell everyone their mother is an author before I will. To my agent Nalini Akolekar, for her support and guidance, and to my editors, Chelsey Emmelhainz and Tessa Woodward, for their encouragement and belief in me and the stories I want to tell.
Huge thanks to the LaLas, Sharon, Annette, Petra, Leigh, Ashley, Nellie and Chrissy for keeping me company as the miles steadily increase and to Mary and Alleyne for nourishing my writing life.
And, as always, none of this would mean anything without the love of my life, my husband, James. Every monad in my body and soul screams out your name. Now and forever.