35. Christian
THIRTY-FIVE
CHRISTIAN
With the door wide open, Hasan and Osama took that as their invitation to walk inside.
Being CEO behind Osama was more fun than doing shit in front of everyone. It was honestly damn boring too.
“They got rid of the vending machines in front of my office,” Osama took out a seat and threw himself into it. He’d finally cut his hair. Gone were the long locks and in replacement was a short, neat haircut that suited him. “Fucking rude if you asked me.”
“No one did,” Hasan gruffed out and took the seat opposite of Osama. Then he turned to look at me, making it a point to show me his watch. “I only have fifteen minutes before I need to head back.”
“It’s not like I invited you,” I muttered into the teacup of cold green tea. “The door is right there. You can take your ass and go.”
“And leave you to deal with this dude?” Hasan pointed at Osama who was looking back and forth between us completely confused.
It had been three weeks since I started sleeping in the same bed as Adelaide.
My feelings were growing, and it felt like maybe hers were too.
I loved every minute with her. At night, she’d sit on my vanity chair and do her nightly routine while I asked her about her day. Her nose would scrunch up and she’d look at me like she didn’t want to tell me, but then she’d spill it. From Starlight—although, I already knew about whatever was going on there—to personal activities.
She hadn’t slept naked since the first time, which should have kept my dick under control but every night when she got into the covers, I could feel her sexy heat calling to me and it took every bit of patience in me to get up, walk to the bathroom, and jerk myself off to the sound of her voice. It was dirty and wrong, but it felt fucking good.
Adelaide would perch her laptop in the space between us and put on Bridgerton. I didn’t know what the hell was going on most of the time because I was focused on her and the softness of her mouth and the way she’d tuck her bottom lip into it. And when she’d release it, her lip would be wet and juicy, and it took every inch of control not to kiss her.
We didn’t talk about sleeping together more than just sleeping together, but God, I wanted to rip her shirt off when she stepped out of the bathroom in her flimsy tank tops or when she got ready for work in her dresses. I didn’t know if her outfits channelled what she felt, but she was back to wearing those personable dresses. I loved her in them, plus her tits always looked fucking amazing.
Hell, she looked fucking amazing in general.
With and without clothes.
We hadn’t discussed about me wanting to love her either or her confession almost two months ago. They lingered between us like exclusive rumours the world knew about, but we’d rather stay in our bubble and keep it between us—ourselves, hidden way too deep down. Honestly, I didn’t mind since it allowed me to think about us. About what I wanted.
I wanted to drag her to me and kiss her and tell her I loved her every goddamn day.
Super fucking simple, yep.
It had been tormenting, spending years loving her and wishing her happiness, when my happiness began and ended with her.
I fucking wish someone had smacked me across the head when I broke up with her.
“Hello?” Osama threw gum wrapper at my face and stared like he didn’t just act like a fucking five-year-old. “What’s with your ugly ass?”
“Do you guys not have jobs?” I asked while throwing the wrapper back at him because I, also, was a fucking five-year-old around them.
“We’re on edge,” Hasan straightened himself. “The party is next week, and we don’t know how you’re gonna get the file.”
“Your dad and Eda are doing nothing which is fucking scary on its own.”
I was planning on telling Adelaide.
Soon.
There was never a right time to tell her.
Last night was a good time.
She was talking to me about her favourite book, it wasn't the right time.
What about this morning when you sat on the island together and talked about your plans for the day?
I couldn’t let her go to work knowing this.
There didn’t have to be one choice when I could have both.
It took me a fucking long time to admit it, but I wanted to be happy.
“Oh, fuck no,” Osama groaned with an accusing finger. “I know that face too well.”
“What?” Hasan grumbled at him with squinted brows.
“He’s in love,” Osama said slowly. “You’re in love with Adelaide.”
Hasan turned to look at me and now both of them were staring at me—fucking analysing me like a rat in a lab.
“Shit,” Hasan massaged his temples. “This is bad.”
“Why the fuck is it bad?” I asked.
“For one,” Osama got up from his chair and put his hands on his hips. “When you’re in love with her, you don’t think .”
“I’ve always been in love with her.”
“We’re fucking screwed,” Hasan added.
Osama pointed a finger at Hasan but stared at me. “See, even he knows.”
“Give me an example.”
“Do you remember when you introduced Adelaide to me for the first time at your house?”
I nodded.
“You hadn’t seen her for a full week and bought her eight different bouquets from eight different florists across the city—spending all your allowance money and then when we got back to campus and you had nothing to eat you said some weird shit like her smile’s enough for me—besides the fact that that was fucking cheesy as shit, you didn’t think one bit before doing something for her.”
They were making this a big deal when it wasn’t.
“I’m not that guy anymore.”
Hasan scoffed, “Right. So, the guy that flew to Switzerland in a single day and bought a ring from an auction for forty million dollars—paying everyone who wanted the ring a million bucks to stay quiet— isn’t you?”
The chair squeaked like my mind as I leaned back into it. “Adelaide’s your friend—your supposed sister. Shouldn’t you be happy about this?”
“Oh, I’m fucking thrilled.” He genuinely smiled and it creeped me the fuck out. I liked him better when he was all scowls and grumbles. “But couldn’t you have waited until afterwards to admit your love?”
“Like he could’ve waited, dumbass.”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” Hasan scowled.
“ Don’t take that tone with me ,” Osama mocked.
These two…
“I’m going to tell Adelaide the truth.”
Heads turned.
Simmering quiet.
Glass broke in the distance.
“You—what the fuck , why?”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Osama and Hasan said at the same time before glaring at each other.
I held a hand up. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Since when do you give a fuck about what’s right and wrong?” Osama raised a questioning brow.
“Since I want to spend the rest of my life with my wife, that’s when.” I looked at Hasan. “There are no secrets between husband and wife, right?”
His proud smile elicited calmness.
I knew I was making the right choice.
Adelaide was strong enough to handle the truth and I knew she’d understand.
She always understood.
My phone buzzed.
Hasan and Osama went back to bickering. It was mostly Osama bickering and Hasan mumbling, but arguing, nonetheless.
Adelaide
are you free right now? i kinda want to see you. if not, don’t worry! see you later 3
Me
I’ll be there soon.
My heart fucking crumbled, and the beats ran to devour the mushy pieces. I shattered and broke and fixed myself from her text message. She sent a heart . She never sent hearts.
What could that fucking mean?
Did she love me again?
That had to fucking be it because why else would she send a heart?
The chair fell to the ground from how quickly I stood. Through my peripheral vision, Osama and Hasan’s head whipped to look at me. “Now excuse me, dumbasses.” If I looked away, I was scared the message would disappear and I was in some weird dream.
“Where are you going?”
Tucking my phone away, I smiled a goofy smile.
“To take my wife out on a date.”
When the door shut behind me, I heard a muffled, “Oh he's down bad .”