Page 84 of The Stipulation
“There were raisins in the muffins. They were mislabeled as blueberry. He took it personally.”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not. Holding the muffin as if it had personally offended his ancestors, he announced that if we couldn’t get basic hospitality right, perhaps we weren’t aligned strategically”
I laugh, properly laugh, and he watches me indulgently. And suddenly, I know. He made the story up to make me laugh.
“That never happened, did it?”
Amusement dances in his eyes. “It could have.”
I shake my head, still smiling.
He watches me for a moment, his expression softening. “I like it when you laugh. You weren’t earlier.”
The observation lands gently, not accusing. Just aware.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically. “But can we just eat dinner without dissecting our emotional frameworks?”
His mouth twitches. “Is that a formal request?”
“Yes.”
He leans back, considering me, then he nods once. “All right.”
Relief unfurls in my chest.
“For the record,” he adds casually, picking up his glass and sipping his wine, watching me over the rim the whole time. “The sexual tension is entirely your fault.”
I nearly drop my fork. “My fault?”
“You’re the one who keeps looking at my mouth.”
“I am not,” I deny hotly.
“You so are.”
“I am absolutely not.”
His eyes darken slightly. “You just did it again.”
My pulse stumbles. I force myself to focus on my plate. “You’re so bad.”
“Why did you ask about my merger?”
“That was a safe topic.”
“Nothing about me is safe, Jo. Not even the mergers.”
The words are quiet. Not arrogant. Just true. I risk looking at him again.
“And nothing about you,” he continues softly. “Makes me want to take the safe route.”
The air thickens. I swallow. “Tell me something else about work,” I blurt out.
He exhales a low laugh, but he obliges. “All right. Do you remember Harrison? My head of legal? He was at Joseph’s wake.”
“The one who looks permanently stressed?”
