Chapter Four Come to Me Sweetly
Come to Me Sweetly
Samantha
HONESTY. THAT WAS THE TEXT I received from Joseph before he left for his last meeting of the day.
I’ve avoided him most of the afternoon, uncertain how, or even if, I should address what occurred in the cafeteria.
I allow my head to fall back, and flex and stretch my shoulders.
I need to work out. The stress of the day has taken its toll on my old shoulder wound.
It aches, every throbbing pulse reminding me how precious and fleeting life can be.
Honesty. I have to tell him.
I make it through the last of the PA resumes HR sent up. I pick a handful I think will make a good fit and block time on Joseph’s calendar to review with him in the morning. I can set up interviews from there.
At five, I pack up and shoot Joseph a quick text.
Me: I’m heading home. See you at the bar?
We have a standing Wednesday night get-together.
It’s primarily the Six Pack: Fin, Matt, Joseph, Victor, Michael.
Jace used to be a part of the pack, but he’s keeping his distance.
Then there’s me, Sebastian, and sometimes Margot.
The attendees always vary, depending on schedules and who’s in Austin at school.
But since summer, it’s become regular for the whole lot of us to make it.
The guys, besides Joseph, don’t usually bring dates.
It’s not a date kind of atmosphere. It’s a hang-out-shoot-the-shit-give-each-other-crap-I-know-you-better-than-most kind of atmosphere. And it’s a blast.
My phone chimes.
Joseph: Michael will drive you. I’ll meet you there.
My protective man.
Me: I’ll take a cab. Or walk. God gave me two good legs for a reason.
Joseph: Yes, he gave you 2 spectacular legs. Fuck, now I have visions of them wrapped around me.
Good. Maybe that will sidetrack his thoughts of me walking.
Joseph: Don’t walk. Michael is on his way to the penthouse.
Me: Caveman!
Joseph: Always, when it comes to my girl.
I reply with a heart emoji and give up on trying to assert my independence. Michael is going anyway, so it’s not like I’m a hardship.
As I push the button for the elevator, it dings and the doors open.
Michael. Standing there with a shit-eating grin. “Princess.”
“Do I even want to know how you knew I was still here instead of on my way home?”
“No.” His smile warms as I join him. “I’m sorry you had such a shitty first day as Joe’s assistant.”
“Thanks. It was one for the record books, I think.”
He tilts his head. “What else happened?”
I hedge, not sure whether to temper my feelings about what happened today with Michael, or wait and unload it all on Joseph.
“Hey.” He touches my arm. “You know you can tell me anything. I’ve always got your back.”
I nod and blink away impending tears. I wish it didn’t upset me so. “Did you know there’s a betting pool on whether Joseph and I will get married?”
He scowls. “Who the fuck would make that wager? They obviously don’t know you two very well.”
“Maybe.”
He sighs like a gale-force wind. “Please tell me you’re not letting this get to you. It’s crap.”
“The pool’s up to a thousand dollars.”
“Maybe I’ll bet against all those schmucks, then when you marry, I’ll be a grand richer.”
The doors open on the crossover bridge floor. I move to exit, but Michael grips my arm. “Wait.” He steps out, placing his hand on the elevator door to keep it from closing and scans the area. Satisfied, he motions me forward.
We fall into step, Michael to my side with his hand on my back. “You know protocol,” he softly admonishes.
“Why are you in protective mode?”
“Precaution.”
We pass through the open double doors leading to the crossover bridge to MCI’s Omega Tower. He stops me again to determine if it’s safe to proceed; only then do we move on.
The hairs on the back of my neck prick. Visions of my father’s killer flash before me. I take a cleansing breath and push them aside. I’ve spent too much time dealing with my self-doubt and fear to let it get the best of me now. “Precaution against what?”
“Todd, that asshole programmer, was fired today.”
I stop in my tracks, halfway across the glass-enclosed bridge. “What?” I’m shocked, and yet I probably shouldn’t be, given what he did and the menacing way he glared at me. Joseph wouldn’t have taken any chances, not with MCI, and not with my safety.
Michael wraps his hand around my arm, looking around. It makes me nervous, so I start looking around—like I know what I’m looking for.
“Princess, you’re making my job harder if you stay here in broad daylight in a glassed-in enclosure. We need to move.”
“Precaution, huh?”
He smiles down at me as we walk to the elevators that will take us to the penthouse level. “Like I said, whoever bets against you and Joe getting married is an idiot. That man is not taking any chances with your life, and there is absolutely no way in hell he would ever break up with you.”
“You would never assume I’d break up with him?”
He looks stumped like I just said something in a foreign language he doesn’t understand. “No, of course you would never break up with him either.”
“But that’s not what you said.”
“It’s what I meant.”
“You think, like those people betting against us, if anyone was going to get dumped, it would be me.” Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone thinks that—even me.
I rush into the apartment, knowing good and well Michael will follow.
Grabbing a water in the kitchen, I head to our bedroom, hollering over my shoulder, “Can you tell Joseph I’ll see him later?
I’m not going tonight.” I slam the door behind me and lock it, knowing if Michael wanted to come after me, a locked door would not stand in his way.
“Dammit, Sam. Don’t do this.” He hits the door. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. You know I’m no good at this touchy-feely crap.”
I stop. It’s not his fault. I open the door. The big lug is nearly pouting. “Michael, it’s been a really…difficult day. I’d like to punch the hell out of something, take a bath, and go to bed.”
“Punch me,” he eagerly offers.
He’d let me too—that is something Michael understands—how to punch, how to work out your frustrations on a punching bag or a willing sparring partner. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d really like to be alone.”
“Please, Sam,” he softly pleads.
I slip my arms around his waist and give him a hug that he quickly returns.
He’s been a great friend over the last nearly two years that I’ve known him.
He’s Fin and Victor’s best friend, and Joe’s good friend.
He’s essentially adopted me as his little sister, but one you treat well and take care of—not one you call names and dismiss.
“Michael, I’m really not feeling up to it, and it’s not really what you said.
It’s a culmination of all of it. I need time to unwind, clear my head, and distance myself from the emotions of it. ”
He tries to talk me into watching TV with him, or keeping each other company while we read our separate books.
He’s a book lover like me. He offers to spar with me, to pick up dinner, to even talk if I need to.
But I finally convince him to go. I’m safe in the penthouse.
There are no threats here, except for the negative voice in my head, threatening to undo all the progress I’ve made with believing I’m good enough for Joseph—that I’m enough for a man like him.
Joseph
The penthouse is quiet when I enter. Dropping my laptop bag and jacket at the entry, I make my way to our bedroom and quietly slip off my clothes, moving closer to the bathroom.
The sound of water sloshing and the smell of vanilla tantalize my senses before I even see my girl luxuriating in a bubble bath.
She slowly rotates her neck and stretches her shoulders on a deep sigh.
The stress of today has taken its toll. As much as I want to absorb this moment of seemingly blissful relaxation, I know she’s like a duck under the water—paddling and paddling to stay buoyant.
She’s not nearly as relaxed as the ambience suggests.
“Sweetness.” I slip off my shirt as I enter.
“Joseph.” The weight of my name, full of emotion, confirms I made the right choice to come home—to her.
“Is your shoulder giving you trouble?” It’s rosier than her other one, telling me she’s been rubbing it, trying to alleviate her discomfort.
“A little.” She sits forward, her fingertips rimming the edge of the tub.
“Mind if I join you?”
She shakes her head but remains silent.
My boxer briefs, the last piece of clothing, hit the floor. I step in behind her. The water is nearly as hot and seductive as she is. I pull her close, wrapping around her like a barrier between her and the outside world.
She buries her head in my neck, whispering my name in sweet veneration.
“I’m here.” My lips press to her cheek, her temple, anywhere I can reach without disturbing our embrace. “I’ll always be here.”
A tremor sends goosebumps rippling across her body with a small whimper.
I turn her sideways on my lap, and her chest presses against mine.
I hold her tightly, whispering to her as she slowly lets go and starts to cry.
“You are the air in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the genius in my every thought.”
She moans as if my words wound her, but I can’t stop. She has to know.
“You are the moon to my night. The sun to my day. The fuel to my fire. There is no me without you.” I kiss her bad shoulder, wishing my kiss—my love—could heal her shoulder and everywhere else she hurts.
“Don’t you know that by now? There’s no one who can hold a candle to you.
The world is a blur to me with my focus fully on you. ”