“We?”

  “I’d do all the work, build the company, the marketing, and so on… but the IP would be yours. We’d be partners. You’d still be working at Mercer Robotics but would have the final say in all technical developments for the AI. We could also leave the model open-ended so that older kids could code their own programs into it. It could be great for a lot of kids.

  “And not just little hot nerds like you. I’ve read that interacting with a machine could be advantageous to kids on the spectrum to practice social skills in a safe environment. We could build specific modules catered to different learning disabilities…”

  As he keeps talking, my heart swells in my chest. Just when I think I can’t possibly love this man more, he goes and does something so incredibly sweet and smart and fantastic. My lips wobble.

  Thomas takes in my distressed expression and frowns. “You’re not talking.”

  I shake my head. I’m not talking because if I open my mouth, I’ll start to cry.

  “You hate the idea. If you hate it, don’t worry, there are a million other things I can do.”

  I’m still shaking my head as I launch myself at him.

  Wrapping my arms around him, I bury my face into his chest and sniffle. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, voice muffled by the bedsheets.

  When I look up at him again, he’s watching me quietly. Then he smiles. “Having a moment?”

  I nod.

  Thomas runs his fingers over my spine. “Why are you crying, babe?”

  Wiping the tears from my face, I bury my head back into his chest. “You’re too lovable.”

  Instead of mocking me, he cradles my face and pulls me up, gently brushing the hair away from my tear-stricken cheeks. “I take it you like the idea?”

  “I love it, I love you.” I stamp a kiss on his mouth.

  “Good, now can we stop talking about work and get on with the all-day-sex plan?”

  And so it goes that Saturday, we spend the entire day in bed, half the time making love, half the time planning functions and specifications for the toy version of K-2P.

  On Sunday, Thomas brings me to one of those classy, old-fashioned buildings in the Upper East Side, where you need to be approved before you can buy. The elevator doors slide open, revealing the Mercer family penthouse. I step out hesitantly, gripping Thomas’s hand as he guides me toward the living room. An onslaught of nerves surges through me, and I immediately feel underdressed in my simple jeans, sweater, and ankle boots.

  “Everyone, this is Reese,” Thomas announces, gesturing to me with a proud grin. “Reese, meet the family.”

  His mother, an elegant woman with kind eyes, immediately pulls me into an embrace. “So wonderful to meet you, dear.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mercer. It’s an honor to be here.”

  “Please, call me Camila,” she insists with a wink.

  His father gives me a firm handshake, his gaze intense, assessing. “Reese. Nice to see you again.”

  “You too.” I still have to keep myself in check not to add “sir” at the end of the sentence.

  Thomas’s brother, Gabriel—a darker, slightly more intimidating replica of Thomas, rises from his seat, giving me a nod. “Hey, Reese. I’m Gabriel.” He gestures to the gorgeous brunette at his side. “This is my girlfriend, Blake.” Then he pulls Thomas into a hug that more resembles a wrestling move than a welcoming embrace.

  Blake grins, her nose scrunching up adorably. She’s wearing black leggings and a fleece, even more underdressed than I am. I immediately like her.

  “Hi, I’m Blake. It’s great to finally meet you!”

  “Finally?” I ask as we shake hands.

  She smirks at me and leans in conspiratorially to whisper, “Yep, that one has been moping about you non-stop since the day you guys met.”

  Thomas, freed from the hello wrestling hold, bumps shoulders with me. “What are you ladies whispering about over here?”

  I turn to him, slightly slack jawed that this gorgeous man has not only chosen me over a family empire, but was moping over me. Since. Day. One?

  Blake saves me from having to answer. “I was just telling her not to worry if you and your brother fight. It’s completely normal and a sign of your affection for each other.”

  “Enough with the formalities,” Thomas’s father calls, clapping his hands. “Now, let’s eat!”

  The aroma of maple syrup and sizzling bacon envelops me as I take my seat at the long dining table. Blake and Gabriel are seated across from me and Thomas, their fingers interlaced over the white linen, and his parents at the opposite ends of the table.

  Despite my initial anxiety, the conversation flows effortlessly, and I feel oddly at ease among the Mercers. Especially with Blake in front of me, making all sorts of funny faces and covert comments.

  “Everyone,” Blake speaks up suddenly, “Gabriel and I have some news to share.” She glances over at Gabriel, who nods with a grin.

  “Go on,” Camila urges, excitement in her eyes.

  “We’re expecting!” Blake exclaims, her face beaming. “The baby’s due in mid-July!”

  “Congratulations!” I say, genuinely thrilled for them.

  “Congrats, you two!” Thomas chimes in, not looking overly surprised. He turns to me and winks.

  “A grandchild?” Camila is half-shocked, half-tearful.

  “The family’s growing fast.” Nolan’s mustache bristles with approval. “Let’s toast.”

  As the conversation moves toward babies and parenting advice, the spotlight shifts from me to the ecstatic parents-to-be. The pressure of being the newest member at the table dissolves, replaced by the joy of celebrating new life. Who would’ve thought that meeting my boyfriend’s billionaire family could feel so… normal?

  Then, over coffee, Thomas and Gabriel get into a brawl about who’s more awesome at some space game on the Xbox and their father has to separate them by blowing an air horn while Thomas’s mom tells me and Blake to cover our ears. Seeing a family worth billions of dollars act in such a cozy, laid-back way is a shock all on its own. Not to mention that when we leave after lunch, Nolan Mercer winks at me again.

  And on Monday morning, I arrive at the office extra early, before anyone is there. I go alone as K-2P is now officially part of MC Toys—MC for Mercer Campbell, the new company Thomas is starting. In the lab, I calmly stride toward my office and once inside, I sit at my crooked desk. Then I open the first drawer on the right.

  Inside, I find a little wrapped package with a blue note stuck on top.

  I have more where this came from in case you want to keep on coming back, Campbell.

  Thomas, x

  I unwrap the package and find my favorite white chocolate candy bar from Italy, which they don’t sell in the States. Giggling like an idiot, I hug the candy bar to my chest and make a silent promise to Thomas: Yes, I will be coming back for more. More chocolate. More Love. More you.

  EPILOGUE

  REESE

  I can do this. The aisle is only twenty yards long. The altar is not that far.

  No reason to panic.

  And the ceremony is small, with only family and close friends.

  That’s easy.

  It doesn’t matter that one of the close friends will probably be the next president of the United States, or that family means the boss of the boss of my boss is here, right?

  “Don’t be nervous,” the wedding planner whispers next to me. We’re standing hidden in a cove of trees, out of sight of the outdoor reception setting, waiting to make our entrance.

  “Nervous?” I turn to her, clutching the flower bouquet in my hands for dear life. “I’m not nervous. What makes you say that?”

  She pointedly stares at my death grip on the unfortunate floral stems. “Then why are you trying to strangle that poor flower arrangement?”

  The flowers are already dead, by any standard, but I force myself to unclench my fingers and give some circulation back to my knuckles. Then I smile like a lunatic, promising the wedding planner that I’m fine.

  I concentrate on the soft organ music playing in the background, keeping my gaze trained on the green grass under my fancy new shoes. After six months of dating Thomas, I should be used to the bubble wrap that comes from dating a billionaire. Or to the fact that I work for his father—many levels below him. And I mostly have. Now I can handle family brunches like a pro, but a wedding? That’s a different story.

  When the chords shift to the song preceding the bridal march, the wedding planner nudges me. “You’re first after the flower girl.”

  As if I didn’t know already.

  Nora, the maid of honor’s stepdaughter, struts out of our hidden cove in her tulle dress, projecting a hundred times more confidence than I can summon.

  Then it’s my turn.

  “Chin high and one foot in front of the other,” the wedding planner prompts. “Keep on the white carpet so that your heels won’t sink in the ground, and you’ll be fine. You can do it.”

  Of course I can. I’ve been walking since I was one. I’m very proficient at walking. Well, maybe not in sky-high heels like the ones I’m wearing today. But I practiced my runway walk, I can do it. Deep breaths.

  “You’re out in three, two, one…”

  The wedding planner ushers me out from behind a huge oak trunk, and just like that, I’m standing in the middle of the outdoor wedding setting, all eyes on me. But I only have eyes for the man standing next to the altar, one step down from the groom.

  Thomas smiles, and suddenly all worries fly out the window. I no longer care if the people gathered in this garden control half the country’s GDP. Or that one or more of them will be president one day.

  I float down the aisle, eyes glued to the best man, who can’t take his eyes off me—smoldering, indeed.

  I reach the flower gazebo, doubling as an altar, without stumbling, but my heart still does a little somersault when Thomas winks at me.

  The maid of honor, Marissa, who’s sporting a baby bump similar in size to that of the bride, is next. And then the bride.

  Blake looks resplendent in a flowing white gown, her long, dark hair cascading down her shoulders in glorious waves. She isn’t wearing a veil, just a small crown of white flowers resting delicately on top of her head.

  The ceremony flies by. The vows are a little bizarre, but totally romantic. Gabriel promises to love and to cherish his bride and to never lift a finger should she get in business trouble. An inside joke? From Blake’s bright smile, the bride seems to appreciate the pledge. And a few people in the know, including Thomas, chuckle along.

  Gabriel also promises to never let Blake go to sleep without hearing “I love you” at least once, no matter how tired or grumpy he might be. It’s sweet and makes me smile. And to always make sure that she is never without her favorite brand of ice cream in the freezer, which garners a laugh from the crowd.

  In return, the bride promises to always be his partner, to constantly keep him on his toes, but also to allow Gabriel the occasional romantic kidnapping. Again, Thomas and the maid of honor chuckle at the inside joke.

  Then the rings are exchanged, and the ceremony is over in a flurry of confetti and joyous tears.

  Thomas is by my side in seconds. “You look like a dream in that dress,” he whispers in my ear. “I can’t wait to take it off you.”

  My toes curl in my pumps and heat rises to my cheeks.

  “Don’t blush so much,” Thomas mock-chides. “Or everyone will know I’m talking dirty to you.”

  I give him the side-eye. “Then stop talking dirty to me.”

  He grins. “Impossible.”

  We make our way to a different area of the resort where the reception is being held. The venue is simply stunning—a lush garden, with fairy lights woven through the trees, and tables adorned with flowers of every color. Soft music floats through the air, and guests are mingling, sipping champagne, and nibbling on delicious canapés.

  As we approach the table with our seating arrangement, Marissa and the bride are already sitting there, complaining about the third trimester being the worst, while their men do their best to make sure they’re as comfortable as possible.

  In my short time dating Thomas, I’ve gotten to know his brother and sister-in-law a little. I see them every Sunday at brunch, and I’ve enrolled in one of Blake’s ballet for beginners classes at her gym, but I don’t know Marissa and her fiancé that well.

  I take my seat next to Thomas and smile at the two women. “Did you guys plan to get pregnant at the same time?”

  “No.” The bride beams back at me. “This is very much an accidental baby.”

  I didn’t know that. For obvious reasons, we never discussed the conception story of the baby while at brunch with Thomas’s parents.

  The maid of honor caresses her belly. “This baby, on the other hand, was very much planned. It was the paternity that was accidental.” She stares up at her fiancé, the other groomsman in the wedding party, John, and they share a look so sizzling I’m afraid the flower arrangement between them might catch fire.

  I stare at them, unsure what to say.

  Marissa turns to me, explaining, “I was supposed to get pregnant with an anonymous donor, but the IVF clinic I was getting treated at accidentally used John’s sample.”

  “Wow.” My eyes bulge. “Is that how you guys met?”

  “No.” Marissa smiles. “He made me fall for him in high school, then broke my heart, and then disappeared for the next sixteen years, only to get me accidentally knocked up with his baby two weeks after coming back into my life.”

  John grins, raising his hands. “The knocking up wasn’t technically my fault. But I’m not complaining.” He glances at me and Thomas. “How did you guys meet?”

  Thomas flashes the table a smug smirk. “Her droid invited me in on her having a striptease in her office.”

  The whole table chuckles, and then Gabriel asks, “This is the same droid you’re going to mass produce?”

  Thomas nods. “We’re going to get both of your babies a prototype as soon as they’re born. We should be on the market next year and the pre-sales are already amazing.”

  My chest swells with the familiar sensation of overwhelming love and pride, and I squeeze Thomas’s hand under the table. He’s been working relentlessly hard to bring together our toy company. And it’s amazing all that he’s accomplished in such a short time.

  “What about you guys?” I ask the bride and groom. “I don’t think I ever heard how you met.”

  The groom takes a sip of champagne and then unleashes a smile on the table as devastatingly charming as that of his younger brother. “She bad-mouthed me in the press.”

  Blake scowls. “I gave the press factual statements, and then he thought it appropriate to barge into my office uninvited and mansplain to me all the reasons I was wrong.”

  I smile. “Uh-huh, I take it the mansplaining went well. What did you do?”

  Blake’s smirk is feral. “I sent him to have a pizza to cool down and reflect on the error of his ways.”

  “Best pizza in New York,” Gabriel declares, and the whole table laughs.

  The rest of the wedding banquet is just as easygoing. All my earlier tension at the start of the ceremony now seems completely unjustified.

  After I finish a giant slice of wedding cake, we dance and drink more champagne. I lose the bouquet to one of Thomas’s cousins, and console myself with a slow dance in the arms of my gorgeous boyfriend. I don’t need to catch a bunch of dead flowers to know we’ll get married someday. The music picks up and we dance, and dance, and dance until we collapse back at our table. It’s late, some of the guests are already leaving, and my feet hurt. But soon, as much as I don’t want to get up again, I have to excuse myself to go to the bathroom.

  “Don’t forget your bag,” Thomas says, handing me my clutch.

  “I don’t really need it. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “Take it,” he insists. “In case you need to powder your nose or something.”

  Is he implying my nose needs powdering? Frowning, I take the clutch from him and head to the bathroom.

  After a quick visit to the toilet, I stand in front of the wide restroom mirrors to assess my reflection. My nose looks just fine. My lipstick, however, could use a retouch.

  I open my clutch, searching for my lip gloss, and find a blue note instead.

  My heart rate immediately picks up.

  I’m dating a pickpocket.

  How does he manage to always sneak notes in my bags without me ever noticing? I find them at the oddest moments, sometimes totally inappropriate instances, but whenever I read one of his messages—be they sweet, funny, or outright indecent—my heart flutters, then I smile like an idiot as thrills zap through my body. And today is no different.

  With my fingers itching with anticipation, I unfold the blue note.

  Room 873, don’t make me wait.

  Oh, so today he went for casually indecent.

  Without returning to the reception—the party is over anyway—I rush through the hotel lobby and head straight for the elevators.

  The ride up is unbearably slow, and when the elevator doors open on the eighth floor, I rush down the hall, my heart pumping.

  When I reach the designated door, I find another blue note stuck on the outside.

  Knock, then close your eyes.

  I raise my fist to the door and close my eyes a heartbeat before knocking. I’m ready for whatever is waiting on the other side, for slipping into this never-ending dream my life has become since Thomas stole my very heart and soul.

  And then the door opens…

  Strong, warm hands gently grab mine, pulling me into the room.

  Thomas leans in to whisper in my ear, “Keep your eyes closed.”

  The hairs on my arms stand to attention as he sneaks past me to close the door. Then he’s hugging me from behind, placing his hands over my eyes and awkwardly prompting me forward. We shuffle-walk, doing our best not to stomp on each other’s feet, until Thomas pulls me to a stop.

 

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