The Kid, the Boss, and the Incorrigible Nanny

Part Twenty-Nine

Michele tightened the belt of her robe. The material, gray silk, matched the nightgown she wore underneath well. The gray silk lay gently on her skin.

She glanced down at her phone. Adrian's message peered back up at her.

I'm on my way.

She felt badly, could hardly believe she had lied to him to get him to come up here. She had panicked.

She abandoned the phone and made her way to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror met her with a scowl.

"I don't want to hear it from you," she said to it. 

The scowl in the mirror disappeared. "Fine, but you need to moisturize. You don't want a crease."

She reached for a jar of her favorite night cream and gently dabbed some product onto her face. She took her time, making sure to apply the product around her eyes with her third finger.

The sound of someone knocking on her hotel suite's door reached her ears. 

Her reflection perked up. "It's him." 

She resealed the lid on her cream but allowed herself a moment to pause. Should she have kept her makeup on? 

No matter, she mused. 

He knocked again, a somewhat impatient sound. It brought a smile to her lips.

She practically raced to the door, her greeting ready for him. "Did I not move quickly enough for you?"

Adrian ran a hand through his hair, a sleepy expression on his face. He had already dressed for bed, a pair of black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His shirt was creased. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush you."

"Not at all." She gestured for him to enter. "Do you want something to drink?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "No. Well, maybe some water."

He entered, carrying a wave of mint and something deliciously masculine with him. But something was missing...

"Have you stopped smoking?" She asked, watching as he took a seat at the kitchen bar. He looked just as beautiful now as he had when they were in college. He was more tired now, she knew. He had dark circles under his eyes. 

He sank his head into his hands, his elbows propped up on the bar. "I'm trying to."

She made her way toward the fridge and opened it to grab a water bottle. She placed it on the bar in front of him. "Good. Despicable habit."

He twisted the lid off of the bottle, pausing to mutter something unintelligible before he took a long drink. After a moment, he wiped his bottom lip and folded his arms in front of him. "What was it you needed to speak with me about? A meeting?"

She leaned forward, mirroring the placement of his arms. "Well..."

The memory of the dinner echoed in her mind. She could hardly believe her eyes, even now.

She had watched him, had seen his eyes widen at the sight of her. That girl in the green dress. Michele's blood had run cold as he stood to help her. 

The words had slipped through her lips almost the moment he sat back down: "Can you come see me after this? It's about a lunch I'm having tomorrow."

She had said it in a whisper. He had nodded, but she had been watching. He had been looking at her.

"What?" He asked. 

She cleared her mind of that image. "You look tired, A. Are you getting enough sleep?"

He took another drink of water. "I try not to count the hours. It's better when you don't keep track."