Chapter 38 #2
“Can we have a little music in this big house of yours?” I ask, setting a glass of wine for him on the counter.
I take a sip from mine.
“Sure.”
He slides off his bar stool and walks into the other room.
Soon after, music wafts through the air.
Old songs that revive some memories from before I was a teacher and thought life would be an adventurous journey.
And it is, isn’t it?
I haven’t listened to this music in a while.
“You better like it. That’s all I have,” he says with humor, walking back in.
“You’re not listening to music,” I say, setting the tray of potatoes, carrots, broccoli, garlic, herbs, and olive oil in the oven.
He watches me doing my thing.
A bit distracted.
A bit in love.
I never thought I’d say this.
“Huh?”
He slides onto his seat and lifts his glass to his lips.
“What are you usually doing for fun?” I ask, placing some burgers on a smokeless grill.
His silence makes me look up.
He swallows and sets his glass down.
“You saw it.”
I take my glass of wine and lean back against the edge of the kitchen island.
“Going out? Bossing club owners around?”
He flashes a smile, and I swear his cheeks are flushed.
“A bit of everything.”
“What are you doing during the day?” I continue, emboldened by his good disposition and the alcohol moving through my blood.
“Working. Like you.”
I smile.
“You’re not teaching.”
An amused smile slides over his lips.
“It depends on how you look at it.”
“What were you doing that night?”
“What night?”
I take a sip and swallow before setting my glass down and crossing my arms over my chest.
“The night you played Santa? What were you doing when you got the call that you needed to show up at the Christmas party.”
His grin fades, his gaze trailing down, avoiding mine.
“I was in a bar, drinking my life away.”
His words are dramatic, yet his voice is smooth and quiet.
He looks at me.
“I wasn’t doing anything in particular. I just wanted to be left alone.”
“You made that clear,” I say, laughing to erase the impression that I’m trying to ruin the mood.
I’m not.
I’m just curious.
I look down.
“So you can’t tell me what you’re doing for a living.”
“Is it important?”
Our eyes meet.
He is not deflecting.
He’s just curious about where I’m going with this and looking for ways of handling my inquiry.
I open the grill and flip the burgers, buying some time before shifting back to him.
“I don’t want to pry. I just think you know more about me than I know about you.”
“All right,” he says in an affable mood. “That’s fair.”
He weighs his answer for a few seconds, his eyes tipped down.
“I made my money with a portfolio of companies. I’m still involved in the big decisions of my enterprise, but other people run its daily operations. So, I have some time for myself.”
I look at him, thinking about what he just said.
Something doesn’t click in my head when I recall the night he had dinner at the restaurant with those men.
There was a sense of camaraderie among those men around the table, something you don’t often see in a corporate environment.
And he didn’t look like a regular boss. He was more than that.
They worshipped him.
So, this doesn’t make much sense to me.
“So, you’re rich,” I say, smiling in a tease.
“As rich as I can be.”
“Hmm…” I say, pushing my gaze down.
“What’s that all about?”
“Nothing.”
I focus on the burgers and turn the grill off before sliding the food onto our plates.
“You don’t like me rich?” he says with self-deprecating humor while I set the tongs on the cutter board.
“All my men were rich, so why would I have something against you?” I joke, and he laughs wholeheartedly.
“You’re funny.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I check the food in the oven before spinning back to him.
“A few more minutes, and it’s done.”
I toss the salad with the vinaigrette and fill our salad bowls.
His eyes make me blush.
I try to avoid his stare, but it’s impossible, so I look up.
“Is there a reason you are asking me all this?” he asks, and I smile, pick up my wine, and walk around the counter.
He shifts in his seat to face me.
“No reason. It’s just that…”
I take another sip.
I need it.
“Do you remember when you said we needed to fuck and then move on, or whatever?” I ask.
“I said we needed to fuck and get each other out of our systems.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling.
“Yes, I do. Why?” he asks.
“For a moment, I thought the day we were supposed to go separate ways and move on was today.”
“What made you think that?” he says, his eyes searching mine, his smile gone.
“Nothing in particular. It’s just that I wanted to manage my expectations,” I say sincerely.
I’ve never been more honest in my life.
Thoughtfully, he brings his hand to my face and brushes his fingers over my cheek, his eyes holding mine.
“You don’t want this to end…” he says, and I slowly shake my head.
“No, I don’t. But I had to ask.”
He lowers his mouth and leaves a tender kiss on my lips.
“I don’t want to end this either. I think it’s too early.”
His last words are lined with humor, and I give him a smile before setting my drink down and taking the liberty to kiss him.
His arms wrap around me, and we get lost in our kiss when his phone rings.
At the same time, someone raps on the door.
I don’t know about him, but being in this big house with no neighbors nearby, I almost have a panic attack.
Startled, I tear my lips away from him.
“Stay here,” he says, concern sliding over his face.
He reaches inside his pocket and retrieves his phone before walking out of the kitchen.
The lights instantly go dim in the house, except for the kitchen, which has no windows to speak of, as it’s tucked in the core of the house.
“No fucking way,” he says in the other room, his voice a mix of surprise and joy.
What??
I glance at the food in the oven to make sure it’s done and turn it off before tip toeing my way to the kitchen door and listening to his conversation.