Mine for a Moment

“I need to resolve this before this project can move ahead,” Ezra tells me as he stares at one of our implementation timelines, his tone filled with frustration. “I’ll have to go and figure out where the issue lies myself.”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair when he begins to pace in his office. “You can’t keep doing this, you know.” I tell him. “We run a billion-dollar company, but we’re still the ones running around cleaning up messes left and right. You have to learn to trust someone other than me. You’re spreading yourself too thin, Ezra. You cannot continue to be the one who travels to client sites.”

He sighs and leans back against his desk. “I just can’t help but feel like everything will collapse if I take my foot off the gas pedal. You understand where I’m coming from, right? No one works as hard as we do, and no one knows our business as well either.”

I nod, feeling conflicted. “Yeah, but we didn’t build this business so you could become a slave to it.”

“You’re not much better,” he says, his tone weak. “Until recently, you’ve hidden behind work as much as I have.”

I tense, my head snapping up to meet his gaze. He looks at me like he has something to say, but then he shakes his head and stares out the window instead. “I’ll send Emma,” he says, resigned. “You’re right. I can’t keep doing this. Fuck, I haven’t even had a chance to take Serenity out for dinner since she moved here, and it’s been months. I promised her I’d show her around, and I haven’t been there for her at all, even though I knew she was all messed up over Theo.” He buries a hand in his hair and sighs. “Thank God you’ve been there for her.”

I nod noncommittally and look down at my feet, guilt coursing through me at the sound of her name. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice as he closes his laptop and gathers the documents spread across his desk.

“Come on,” I murmur, forcing a smile. “I’ll let you raid my fridge to celebrate your decision to not work yourself to the bone anymore.”

He walks past me and grins. “There’s not much left to raid. You should probably restock.”

“Two weeks,” I mutter. “You’ve been living at my house for two weeks and you drank all my damn beer?”

He shrugs as he walks to the elevator. “Let’s go pick up Serenity,” he says, a faint smile on his face.

I shake my head as I press the down button. “She’s at home, and she hates it when I do that. She’s still pretty damn intent on pretending she doesn’t know either of us at work.”

“How do you know?” he asks, staring at the moving numbers on the elevator’s display. “That she’s home.”

I tense imperceptibly. “Got a notification that my alarm system was disabled an hour ago,” I tell him without skipping a beat, when truthfully, I know she’s home because she texted me. It’s the only way we manage to properly talk with Ezra around.

I thought he might question me further, but he doesn’t say much of anything on the way home. It doesn’t sit well with me that I’m so on edge around him these days. Serenity and I promised each other that us being together wouldn’t affect anyone around us, but it has, and even so, I can’t bring myself to regret a single thing. Fuck, we could implode, and I still wouldn’t want to go back to a time before her.

“You’re home!” she says, her whole face lighting up as she rises from the sofa, dressed in one of my old college T-shirts, one of the mugs we bought in Italy in her hands. It’s her favorite one—a hand-blown one from Murano, with pink hearts on it.

“Hey, little thief,” I tell her, loving the way she’s swimming in my clothes. She looks far better in my tee than I ever did, and it’s so fucking sexy to see it on her. I can’t even explain why—it just makes me happy.

“Serenity,” Ezra says, his tone chastising. “You can’t just go through Archer’s closet like that. We’re invading his privacy enough as it is.”

“It’s fine,” I tell him as she walks over and grabs her brother’s arm. “I don’t actually care. It’s just a T-shirt.”

She throws me a sweet smile before she drags Ezra to the kitchen. “You heard him,” she says. “Besides, this T-shirt is only a small repayment for the pizza I made you guys.”

“You made us pizza?” I ask, just as my stomach grumbles.

“Fuck yes,” Ezra says, diving in instantly.

Serenity looks at me and smiles. “You mentioned you were craving some pizza,” she whispers. “I’m not as good of a cook as you are, but this recipe seemed simple enough.”

I look into her eyes, my pinky hooking over hers. “Thank you,” I whisper back, the word darling nearly slipping out. Having Ezra around is fucking nerve racking. It’s driving me completely wild to have her so close when I can’t touch her. It’s even worse to know she sleeps in my bed every night.

I sigh when Ezra grabs my last microbrew and a slice of pizza, his expression completely delighted as he carries both back to the living room. I’ve never minded his presence before, but for the first time in a decade, I really wish he’d just get the fuck out so I can be alone with my girl.

I stare up at the ceiling, reconsidering my decision to tell him he should stop pushing himself so hard. I’d fucking die for some alone time with Serenity, and I’d have it if he went on the trip he’s sending Emma on.

Serenity chuckles when she reads my exasperated expression, and I groan when she turns to join her brother on the sofa. My mood is sullen as I grab the pizza Serenity made and follow her, not wanting to share it with Ezra.

She looks up at me when I sink down right next to her, my thigh pressing against hers. There’s more than enough space on the sofa, but I don’t give a fuck. I want her near.

Thankfully, Ezra doesn’t bat an eye as he tries to choose a TV channel, his attention entirely on his food and the movie he eventually selects. He doesn’t notice when I lift a slice to my mouth, only for Serenity to grab my wrist and steal a bite. Nor does he realize when I smirk at the tomato stains around her lips and reach to swipe it away with my thumb, before bringing it to my mouth and licking it clean.

She smiles at me, and pure contentment courses through me as I wrap my free arm around the back of the sofa, just about brushing against her shoulder. I lean in a little closer than I should, smiling when I notice the paint stains in her hair, only for that smile to fade when I recall what she’s painting and what it’ll mean for us when that painting is finished.