Junk Mail(52)
“So, why the dish and not the cone?” I ask, suspiciously taking my first bite.
“I don’t want you to get your hands all covered in ice cream, because I have something to give you.”
“A written apology?” I tease.
“Not quite.”
Slipping a hand into his coat pocket, he pulls out a gold envelope with my name neatly printed on the front. He places it on the table between us, but as I lean forward to grab it, he reaches out a hand and lays it gently on top of mine, sending sparks dancing through me. I can’t believe one little touch can still affect me like that.
“Before you open it, though,” Josh says in a low voice. “I have something I need to say.”
“I’m listening.” I lift my chin, waiting.
“First, I want to apologize. There’s been a lot of miscommunication between us, and it’s been really unfair to you.” He has a tremor in his voice, a vulnerability that shakes me to my core. He really is sorry.
“Well, I want an explanation, that much is for sure.” I fiddle nervously with my ice cream spoon, dodging his eye contact.
“And I’ll give you one,” he says. “But first, open the envelope. Please.”
After taking a deep breath, I slide my thumb underneath the seal and pull two sets of airplane tickets from the envelope. New York to Buffalo. First class. They’re for this June.
“What? I . . .” I run my fingers over the glossy finish of the tickets, trying to make sense of them. “Is this a work trip or something?”
“No, Peyton.” Josh laughs. “We’re not going for business this time. I don’t want this to be a professional relationship anymore. I want to take you upstate the right way. Not as my business partner. As my girlfriend.”
My heart jolts in my chest. His girlfriend. I’ve wanted to hear him call me that since the day I first laid eyes on him.
“And these other two?” I ask, counting the tickets again. There are four.
“For Gram and Duncan. They already have it marked on their calendars. Gram seems to be healing well, but the flights are accessible in case she’s having any walking issues come June. We can Gram and Duncan to all the wineries. And we can swing by Claire’s and see the kids.” He grabs my hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Our families can meet. If you want, that is.”
The thought of Gram sitting on a swing, snapping pictures of Claire’s kids while Duncan chases them around the yard, brings a smile to my face. It’s a picture-perfect moment. One that almost seems too good to be true.
I look at the tickets again, splaying them out in front of me for closer examination.
“But these flights aren’t until June,” I say, suddenly skeptical. “Summer is so far away, and you don’t know—”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I do know. I know that I want to be with you this summer and next summer and for as many summers as you’ll have me.” A gentle smile creeps across his lips.
I want to kiss that smile more than anything. But there’s still one more thing to clarify first.
“But what about these past few weeks? What was that? What happened?”
Josh’s shoulders sag. “These past few weeks without you have been hell on fuckin’ earth, Peyton. But it was all a misunderstanding. When I was taken off as the point of contact for the project, it’s because Brody thought that I was biased about your business, that I only thought it would succeed because I was so into you. So I backed off the project to prove to him that my feelings for you and work were separate. But then Brody didn’t give you the details of that, and . . .”
He sighs again, shaking his head as he worries his fingers through his messy dark hair. “God, Peyton, I was such a jackass. I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. And then I showed up at Speakeasy, thinking you’d be excited to see me. I’m sorry about that.”
His defeat hangs in the air between us for a moment as I let his words soak in.
“That sounds so complicated,” I say finally. “So Brody didn’t tell me because . . .”
Josh scoffs, shaking his head. “Because he’s a man, I suppose. We can tend to get a little stupid on details and emotions sometimes. Especially when a beautiful woman is involved.”
A smile twitches the corner of my mouth. I grab his hand again, giving it an extra-tight squeeze. “You were smart enough to know you screwed up. And you were smart enough to book this trip. Which is just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Josh perks up, the weight disappearing from his shoulders. “So you’ll go?”
Leaning across the table, I press a light, delicate kiss against his lips. “With you? I’d go just about anywhere.” I pause, still leaning halfway across the table. “Well, on one condition.”
Josh raises a brow at me.
“As long as we don’t have to keep it professional,” I say, grinning.
He laughs, taking my cheek in his hand and bringing his lips to mine again. “Peyton, falling in love with you is the least professional thing I’ve ever done. And I want to keep doing it over and over again.”
Epilogue
Peyton
It’s been a year, almost to the day, since I rushed out of the Wine O’Clock office after my very first meeting with Josh. Three hundred sixty-five days, give or take, since the moment that redefined what it meant to be nervous. My business was on the brink of something incredible, something possibly life changing, and life decided to throw a monkey wrench in the situation in the form of a misdirected text message and a business partner almost too swoon worthy for me to keep my eyes on my goals.