Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
CHANGE OF PLANS
One Month Later
Jules
“Deeper, Omar, please,” I beg.
“Fuck, woman, I’m halfway to Timbuktu,” he grunts, his face contorted by effort and pleasure as he drills deeper and harder and faster.
The top of this table was cold when he lifted me onto it, folded me in half, and started fucking me. Now it’s warm and slick with my sweat, and I slide backward with every thrust. He lifts my legs so they lie flat on his chest and holds them there with one of his corded arms and holds my shoulder with the other so I can’t move.
“I love being inside your pussy so much, I could do this forever,” he groans with his eyes closed and his teeth gritted.
Those words work in conjunction with his body to break the dam holding the rush of pleasure that’s been raging for release. My orgasm is blistering and fast. My body bucks so violently that he has to fight to keep his grip on me.
I have no basis for comparison, but I can’t imagine anything can feel as good as sex with Omar does.
He grips my hips and slows down his thrusts, leans over me, and takes my mouth in a wet, deep kiss that’s as hungry as it is tender. I wrap my arms around him, holding him as he groans into my mouth. I feel the spurts of his cum inside me even through the condom, and I wonder if it’s possible to die from happiness.
He collapses on top of me, his chest heaving against mine, his weight delicious and comforting.
“Let’s stay here forever,” I sigh into his throat.
“My thoughts exactly.” He presses a kiss to my neck and lifts off me.
The slide of his softened penis out of my body is my least favorite thing in the world, but Omar is as careful about birth control as he is about everything else. As he walks to a small bathroom to dispose of the condom, I hop off the table and look around the cottage while I straighten my clothes.
It’s changed dramatically since the last time I saw it. The south-facing large bay window is the only thing that remains of the original structure. The rest of the light pours in through stained glass that’s replaced the clear glass in the small windows that line either side of the cottage. The walls that divided it into several rooms are all gone, and it’s one huge space. Long dark wood shelves line the freshly painted white walls. And the worktable in the center of the room where I’d just been perched is bigger than my entire kitchen.
I could swear the surface of it is topped with the gold-flecked white quartz I picked out at the store. But it’s been a minute, so my memory may be playing tricks on me. I walk back to get a closer look when the bathroom door opens behind me. “Did you go back and order this?”
He comes to stand beside me, hands on his hips and a very pleased smile on his face as he surveys the space. “Nope. Ordered it on the same day.”
“You did?”
“Yup. For this cottage.”
“And what are you going to do with it?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“How could I? You pounced on me as soon as I got here. Not that I’m complaining.” I nudge his hip.
His smile turns sheepish. “Yeah, I’ve missed you.”
I melt at that boyish smile of his and wrap my arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I missed you, too. Work has been crazy busy. This is the first night all week I left there before seven.” I cast an approving glance over the room. “But I see you’ve been busy. It looks great.”
“Yeah, put those up myself.” He nods at the three rows of wooden shelving running along two walls.
“And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing with it.”
“Well, I was thinking it could be a workshop.”
“For what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Say…a candlemaker who needs more space.”
My eyes go wide with surprise, but my heart spreads even wider. I put my hand over my chest. “This is for me?”
“Yes. It’s for you if you want it.”
I smile at him, wagging a finger. “Were you being sneaky?”
His pleased smile is back, and he gives a small shrug. “I wanted to surprise you.”
I turn a circle around the room while he’s talking, nodding in agreement until he gets to the end. I stop and turn to face him. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I wanted you to have more space so you don’t have to wait to ship one batch before you have room to make another. And you’ll have a quiet place to work, too.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed by so many emotions at once. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve so much good, but I’ve been soaking up every drop of it.
“Only if you want it, no pressure,” he adds.
I run to him and leap up into his arms with enough force to send him stumbling. He wraps his arms around me in a bear hug, and we stand there, suspended in a moment I know I’ll never forget. I press my face into his neck and take a long, deep inhale of my favorite scent in the whole world.
“I love it,” I whisper before he sets me down. And I love him. So much. But I’m afraid saying it aloud will remind the universe that it is so good at shitting on me in moments when I’m defying the odds.
“Good. And it has a separate street entrance. I’m going to have a gate put up so it will feel like two separate properties. So no matter who’s living in the main house, you’ll have free rein here for as long as you want it.”
The reminder that one day, someone other than him will be living here dampens the happiness I felt a minute ago. The renovations are almost complete. After the kitchen, he decided to knock out a back wall and put in a second set of French doors that open out into the huge garden from a room he uses as his office. The work on that has just started, but it won’t take more than a month. “Do you have an idea of when you’re going to put it on the market?”
He shakes his head and lets out a harsh sigh. “No. But some of it depends on you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You have what? Three months left on this internship?—”
“It’s a pupilage,” I correct. “Even though I’m sure there are internships that pay more than it does.”
“Okay, when your pupilage is done, what’s next?”
“Well, if I’m successful, I’ll be offered a tenancy and go from glorified intern to a member of chambers.”
“And how long do you have to do that?”
“The tenancy is at its core a partnership agreement. I’ll share the carrying costs of the offices and staff, but in return I’ll be able to leverage the prestige of the chambers to find high-quality, well-paying work. That said and to answer your question, I don’t have to do it for any period of time.”
“But…” he prods.
“But…this is what I’ve scraped and fought for. Fifteen Queen’s Bench Walk is one of the best family law practices in the country. And I want to make the most of it. A successful start there will mean I can write my own ticket in the future.”
He nods, but his gaze is unfocused.
“What’s this got to do with you listing the house for sale?”
“Well, I have six months left before my dad steps down officially, and once that happens, I’ll need to be in Houston to develop my relationship with whoever replaces him.”
The disappointment I feel listening to him is crushing, even though I knew this was coming. “Okay. So six months?”
“Yeah, but I want to find a way to make the distance work until one of us can make a permanent move.”
“You do?”
“Jules, I’m fucking head over heels in love with you, and I don’t want this to end. Not when I leave, and not at any point in the future that I can anticipate. I’m not a religious man, but you have made a believer out of me. I worship the ground you walk on. You’ve become my best friend, and I don’t want to be apart from you.”
My vision blurs. It’s too much information and emotion at once, and for a second my mind is blank. I can’t think or speak or breathe.
My heart is racing a million miles a minute. This wasn’t supposed to happen. If he stays, I won’t be able to keep my past where it belongs without being dishonest. Could I tell him the truth? No. But I want this. I want him.
The weight of a hand rests on my shoulder and shakes me out of my spiraling panic. I blink, and a tear rolls down my cheek. He swipes it away with his thumb and then cups my face and gazes down at me with so much tenderness and love that it hurts. “You don’t have to say anything or decide right now. I know I’m throwing you for a loop. But I wanted you to know where I am. And what you mean to me.”
I look up into the face of the man who has turned my world right side up. He’s so much more than I ever dreamed of, and I know I don’t deserve him. I should encourage him to leave. I should tell him this won’t work. But when I open my mouth, I can’t say anything but the truth my heart has known for months. “I love you, too. And yes, of course, I want to live with you.”
His lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Glad to see you’ve finally caught up.” He drops a kiss on my lips and pulls me into a warm embrace. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ve got a bottle of champagne chilled and ready to celebrate.”
“You’ve always got a bottle of champagne chilled.” He has a full-sized wine fridge that’s fully stocked.
“But I don’t always have a reason to pop one open.”
I grab my bag, take his outstretched hand, and follow him out of the door and onto the hedgerow-lined path that leads to the main house. My phone starts to ring just as we step inside.
“Hold on, let me just check it’s not work.” I drop my bag on the counter and unzip it.
I chuckle as I fish it out. “If it is, tell them you’re busy.” He points a finger at me and walks over to the wine fridge.
“If it’s them, I’m not answering until I’ve had a glass of champagne.” I’ve worked almost eighty hours this week, and unless it’s an emergency, I’m not calling them back until tomorrow.
I miss the call, but it’s not work or any other number I recognize. The double zeroes at the front of it tell me that it’s from outside the UK. “Hey, do you know which country has calling code 34?”
Omar is busy pulling down champagne flutes, but he answers right away. “Spain.”
“Hmmm, I don’t know anyone in Spain. How odd.”
He tosses the gold foil he pulled off the champagne into the trash and starts pulling out the cork. “It’s probably one of those time share companies trying to convince you to buy a place in Tenerife or Ibiza.” My stomach drops all the way to my toes just as the bottle relinquishes the cork with a loud pop and the bubbly liquid overflows. He busies himself filling the glasses, and we toast to the something special we took a chance on.
Omar starts to poke around his fridge to figure out what he’s going to cook us for dinner and tell me about an endorsement offer he received from a watchmaker I’ve heard of.
But I can’t focus fully because my mind has raced back in time to the night I took Conrad to the airport and bought him a one-way ticket.
To Ibiza.
If he’s calling me, he must be out of money. Eight months is longer than I expected him to last, but it’s not long enough.
“You should keep things here,” he says suddenly, his eyes on me as his deft hands slice and dice tomatoes and onions.
“I already do.”
“I mean, like everything. For good.”
The glass nearly slips from my suddenly slack fingers. I place it carefully on the counter and climb down. “You mean…move in? But I thought you were going to sell it once the renovation was done.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I love this house. Your touch is everywhere, and I want you to live here with me. You’re here practically every night. I’d love for you to call it home.”
I’m excited but surprised. “You want that?” I pause, bite my lip, and look at him closely. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’m head over heart and heels for you. I want us to start thinking about a future where we’re together.”
My poor heart doesn’t know what hit it, and it flails. “You do?”
“Don’t you?”
“Is Oprah rich? Of course I do. But what about your business in Houston? Your family?”
He puts the knife down and meets my gaze. “What about them?”
“You were only here until your house was sorted.”
“Things have changed. There’s you.”
“You can’t just upend your life, leave your businesses and everything you know for me.”
“I can do whatever I want. You think about it and let me know.”
I don’t need to think about his offer. I want to live with him. But that means I have to pay Conrad. While he sleeps soundly next to me, I send a wire transfer from my bank. This time, I send him enough to last him a year.
Then I send a text telling him to expect the wire in the morning and that there is no more where this has come from.
He writes back, “That’s a pity. Have a nice life.” I delete the conversation and block his number. I saw a quote once that read, “No man is rich enough to buy back his past.” I don’t remember who said it, but I hope like hell they were wrong.