Chapter 25
Nora
After an impromptu smash session at my childhood home, which was surprisingly therapeutic, Jordan and I crossed number six off his list twice. If I had a bucket list, that little number wouldn’t be mid-way down the list. It would be marked at the top in permanent ink.
Holy hell. Jordan Jones could write a book on the activity. Let’s just say I’m over the moon grateful he saved crossing this one off for me.
I’m still reeling when we check in at our hotel just outside Manhattan’s core and get ready. It took more willpower than I thought I had to not take over Jordan’s sponge bath after my shower.
Instead, I opt for the responsible decision since our time is limited and get dressed. When he limps out of the bathroom, I’m standing by the window in his favorite dress. It’s too suggestive for an art show—sparkling white with spaghetti straps and a back that dips all the way to my tailbone. One thin strap crosses my back to hold it together. The front falls loosely over my breasts, exposing enough cleavage to make heads turn. But I’m only interested in one man’s attention, and he’s currently giving me all of his.
He’s speechless while his eyes roam over me. As he finds his words, I lift the front slightly, proving the dress is the only fabric on my body.
“In case you get any ideas later,” I say, referring to his promise the last time he asked me to wear this dress, and watch his Adam’s apple bob with a rigid swallow.
“I have plenty of ideas right now.”
He reaches for the towel tied around his waist, and my hands fly up.
“Don’t you dare. We have somewhere to be, and we’ll never make it in this traffic if we get sidetracked.”
“Promise me we’ll find somewhere private tonight. I doubt I’ll be able to wait until we get back to have you.”
“Why do you think I chose this dress?”
“I can’t think with you looking like that.” His voice is gravely and deep with want. “Tell me.”
“I’m wearing it because it’s your favorite,” I say, inching closer. “And I loved what you did to me the last time I put it on.”
A smug smile tugs at his lips. “Ahh. Outside. Behind the bar. I’ll never forget it.”
“I expect the same treatment tonight…just a little classier, given the circumstances.”
“Honey,” he begins, leaning on the dresser. “You keep your eyes trained on me like I’m dessert, and you can have whatever you want.”
He shifts to his suitcase nearby to collect the items he needs to dress. The muscles in his back bulge and ripple as he moves, making my skin prickle with desire. But it’s not only his body that makes me giddy. It’s him—his heart, sweet charm, tenderness, and ability to know what I need before I do. He loves me and all my maddening flaws and stubborn scars. With him, I’m a better person and whole for the first time.
“Jordan?”
“Yeah?” he says absently, and I wait for his eyes to find me.
“Just so we’re clear…all I want is you.”
◆◆◆
Saturday night traffic uptown got us to the show forty minutes after opening. We tipped the cab driver double since he delivered us to the Whitney Museum’s door instead of a block down the street and didn’t complain about the extra time it took to get the wheelchair in and out of the trunk. Jordan claims it’s because the driver got a show each time I lifted the chair in my dress.
“Whatever works,” I joke, jabbing the elevator’s up button more times than necessary.
“I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes off you, too.” He reaches for my hand and kisses the top as the elevator door opens.
I follow him inside, and as a few others pile in and gather behind us, I lean down to his ear to whisper, “Ditto. You in this suit makes my knees weak.”
His sleek black pants fit over the cast without swallowing the rest of him. The gray blazer over a white button-down shirt accentuates his masculine frame. His dog tags sit proudly over a matching black tie, and his dark blond hair, long enough to curl at the ends now, is combed back off his forehead.
“Good to know. I’ll try not to wrinkle it when I f—”
The door opens, and Josie’s squeal reverberates off the stone floor and the stark white walls of the long corridor leading to the showroom. She was standing near a sculpture a few steps away, talking to a tall man with salt and pepper hair and rings on multiple fingers when she saw us. After saying something to the gentleman, she takes tiny, hurried steps in our direction, moving as fast as she can in her ankle-length, fitted, black dress and four-inch heels.
“You came.” She lunges into Jordan’s awaiting arms.
Seeing them together, after all that’s happened over the last week and a half, warms my soul. They will always have each other, and even though it’s just the two of them, he has family he can count on. There’s very little in this world better than that.
“Surprise,” Jordan says, retaining her hand as she straightens.
While they catch up, I take a few minutes to appreciate the woman before me. She doesn’t look like the carefree, eclectic artist I met in Richmond. She’s beyond stunning. Grant has outdone himself, flawlessly styling her from the sparkling diamond clip in her perfect spiral curls to the bright red nail polish on her toes. She’s ready for the runway, media interview, or an upscale art exhibit in New York City.
She soon notices my hand on Jordan’s shoulder, and the blue eyes that match his trail up my arm and meet my gaze. There’s a trace of trepidation in her expression, but for Jordan’s sake, she masks it with her usual bubbliness.
“Nice to see you, Nora,” she says, stepping around the wheelchair to wrap me in a delicate hug. “You look…”
“Incredible,” Jordan finishes for her, bringing a smile to my face.
“That’s not quite adequate enough, but since I’m speechless, we’ll go with that.”
“I was going to say the same about you. That dress is exquisite on you,” I gush, while she spins to give us the full view. The back, a web of ribbons matching the pattern on her shoes, is even more intricate and eye-catching than the long strings of diamonds dripping from her ears and neck. “How’s the show going?”
She glances between me and Jordan. “It’s only been an hour, and I’ve already sold two pieces.”
“And I bet that’s only the beginning,” Jordan reassures her. “Speaking of selling paintings, you better get back to it. Grant is getting anxious.”
She turns to find him waving for her from the end of the corridor.
“He’s relentless,” she says on a long exhale. “But I love him.” Turning back to Jordan, she takes his hand and squeezes it between hers. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She scurries off, and Jordan nods his greeting at Grant. “That’s her agent.” He explains and we watch Grant circle his arm around Josie and drag her toward a group of people examining a framed piece of art, presumably Josie’s.
“He looks like a piece of art himself,” I say, taking in the bright blue and pink plaid suit, long white scarf, and pink shoes.
“That’s Grant for you. Big, bold, and in your face.”
“Not a fan?” I ask, using his piercing tone as evidence.
“He’s good to Josie.”
“But…”
“That’s all I care about.”
“Got it.” As a waiter scurries toward us with a tray of full champagne glasses, I wave him over and take two before he moves on to more important customers. “Come on. Let’s go ogle the masterpieces.”
The featured artists all have unmistakable talent, but Josie’s paintings are the talk of the show. She has a gift of making you feel the emotion she pours into each painting as if you’re there in the meadow, on the mountain, at the beach, or on the balcony overlooking the city at dawn with her as she painted it.
There’s one piece, a white house in a field of wildflowers, that takes my breath away. I lose myself in it while art enthusiasts disregard and move around me. Although the house is older and in need of repair, it still welcomes you in as if filled with love. The large tree to the left held a swing with two thick ropes tied to a limb. Two black rocking chairs sat on the porch, flanking a lazy dog lounging in the sun near the steps.
“This reminds me of the good times. When Mom and I would bake cookies on Sunday afternoons or play tag with Dad in the field. One fall, I asked for a swing for Christmas, but Dad made and hung one up that same day. It makes me want—” Emotion clogging in my throat blocks the words from escaping. “It’s so beautiful.”
I stare at it a while longer until someone bumps into my arm. Concentrating on not splashing the bubbly liquid in my glass on the painting and myself, I hold the flute out in front of me until it resettles.
“My sincere apologies, miss,” the man says, placing a hand on my elbow.
“It’s fine.” I flash him a smile and step away to look for Jordan who, I realize, has disappeared.
“There you are,” I say after locating him at a table across the room. “What are you up to?”
“Supporting my sister and buying something for the woman I love.”
“What?”
“Congratulations, Mr. Jones.” A dark-haired woman with thick-rimmed glasses passes him a receipt after stamping it paid.
“What did you do?” I ask.
“Bought the house painting.”
His proud grin makes my insides quiver. “You didn’t.”
“I did. Thank you, slot machines.”
Taking his face in my hands, I plant a lingering kiss to his lips. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Where will you hang it?”
“Good question. Maybe you can help me decide when we get home.”
His hand slaps to his chest in dramatic excitement. “I’d love to.”
“And I’d love to thank you properly.”
He lowers his voice, pointing me away from witnesses. “I saw an empty meeting room at the back of the showroom on my way to buy the painting.”
“Perfect. I’ll race ya.”
◆◆◆
“You have a little lipstick right there.” I wipe the side of his lips with a thumb as we hastily get dressed.
“I’ll gladly wear lipstick the rest of the night if it means doing that again.”
“We can recreate the moment in my apartment when we get back if you’d like.”
“And my apartment. And my parents’ house after I renovate it.”
“Sold.” For once, the long-term nature of that promise didn’t frighten me. If anything, it gave me an indescribable energy. One I can only interpret to be a rare commodity in my twenty-seven years on this planet—hope.
I help him button his shirt while he tucks in the bottom since my dress took all of three seconds to slip back into place.
He kisses my forehead on the last button and says, “Where’s my tie?”
“Good question.” I drop to the floor to search for the dark, silky fabric on the dark floor in the near dark room when the door opens.
A museum employee shrieks at the sight of us, shocked and appalled, while I’m grateful she let in some light to help me locate the tie. I snatch it up and jump to my feet.
“Hi,” I greet, heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. “We were looking for…yeah…we’re done here.” Jordan lowers into the chair, and I roll him out the door and into the showroom.
“That was amazing,” he says, waving me down for a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He slides the tie into his coat pocket with a smile that could melt my panties…if I were wearing any.
“There you two are,” Josie says, bounding up to us as best she can in her restrictive dress. “I’ve been looking everywhere for—what happened to you?”
“What?” Jordan and I follow her gaze to his shirt. His buttons are one off, making the collar crooked. His hair looks like someone ran their fingers through it—that was definitely me—and a thin layer of sweat shimmers on his upper lip. He looks absolutely adorable and guilty as hell.
Josie turns to me, and I can only grin. “You guys are unbelievable.”
“Thanks,” Jordan says, making a chuckle spurt out between my pursed lips. “Did you need something?” he asks, slipping the tie around his neck to hide the error we made with his buttons.
“I’m sold out!”
“Josie, that’s amazing. I mean, I knew you would, but…” He pushes awkwardly to his feet to give his sister an adequate hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
“The white country house was the last one to go and someone paid double for it.”
“What?” I jump into the conversation, and Jordan looks over his shoulder with don’t-tell-her eyes.
“Yeah. There was a bidding war for it,” Josie continues, oblivious to our silent conversation.
“That’s crazy.”
“I never would have guessed that piece would be so popular. Maybe I should paint more like that.”
“You definitely should,” I say. “It’s magnificent. I knew you were talented, Josie, but your work is truly unlike any I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you, Nora. That means a lot.” She steps around Jordan to give me a hug, then reaches for him. “And thank you both for your support and letting me have this moment. I’m so grateful…and happy. I can’t believe I sold out!”
As she returns to her fans, I help Jordan lower back to the chair. “Why didn’t you want to tell her?”
“She’ll find out soon enough. I want her to enjoy this moment without guilt.”
“She’s going to be mad at you for spending your money,” I say, pushing him toward the bar.
“That’s fine. She can be mad at me all she wants later. After seeing that look in your eyes, there was no way I was letting it go to anyone else.”
“You’re too good, Jordan Jones.” I order two glasses of wine and turn to face him. “Speaking of special moments, you were fantastic earlier.”
“So fantastic that you’re ready to go back to the hotel and do it again?”
“Yes, but there’s something I need to do first. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?” I pass him one of the full glasses of wine the bartender set on the counter.
“Sure.”
Wrapping my fingers around the stem of the second glass, I march through the expansive room, looking for Josie. I soon find her talking to an animated couple about a commission and wait nearby until she notices me.
“Hi,” I say, sounding as insecure as I feel. “Sorry to interrupt, but can we talk?”
“Gosh. I thought you’d never ask.” She hooks my arm with hers and leads me into a nearby room, flipping on the lights before closing the door behind us. It’s the same room Jordan and I escaped to earlier, making my cheeks flush.
“What happened between you and Jordan?” Her eyes glitter with intrigue, excitement, and a little too much wine.
“What?” With my thoughts focused on the last visit to this room, I’m not sure how to answer.
“This week, he said on the phone that things are better between you.”
“Oh. Well, a lot’s happened there.” Glancing around the small room, I notice for the first time that it’s set up for a banquet or dinner—round tables covered with white linens, place settings, and fresh-cut flower centerpieces in expensive crystal vases.
Josie yanks out a chair, and I follow to sit across from her. “He’s forgiven me for lying to—”
“I heard that part.”
“Oh, right. Well,” I try to begin, but her intensity is making the words jumble like a crossword puzzle in my brain. “I’m working through some past issues—and will be for a while—but Jordan has helped so much. He knows everything and has forgiven me.”
“That’s my brother. You’re his weakness.”
“And he’s mine. I’ve completely fallen for him, Josie—head over heels and with all my heart. I don’t care who knows it. In fact, I want to scream it from the rooftops.”
“Wow.” She sits back, taking me in. “That’s awesome,” she says, but I’m not sure she means it. She has residual trepidation. Anyone in her position would, but that’s why I wanted to talk to her. Her approval means so much to Jordan, and I’m here to make sure we have it.
“I’m hoping to get your blessing, Josie. You can think about it if you need to. I understand this may come as a shock. You’ve missed a lot.”
“Nora, what are you asking me?” Her eyes are wide as she surveys me.
“I’d like to ask Jordan to marry me.”
“You’re asking him?” She stands, and I mirror her, keeping a defensive distance as she paces. I’m still unsure how she’s feeling about all the changes between us in such a short timeframe.
“He won’t ask me. He’s a little traumatized, and he’s afraid I’ll freak out again.”
Josie nods, understanding.
“I want to show him how serious I am about us and to set his mind at ease. He’s chosen me time and time again, and now it’s my turn to choose him.” She turns to face me, too stunned to speak. “But I won’t ask him until I have your blessing. He’ll want to know you’re on board, and I need that, too. You mean so much to him. Please, Josie.”
I take her hands, but she stares over my shoulder, lost in thought…or in shock. I can’t tell which, but I barrel through my speech, hoping she hears me.
“I want him forever, Josie. I love him more than I thought was possible, and however we can make it happen, I want to give him a family. I want our life to be as beautiful and vibrant as the white country house picture you painted. With him, I know it will be full of laughter, passion, and unconditional love. He means the world to me, too, Josie. And I want to spend the rest of my life showing him and our children just how special he is.”
“I think you’re pretty special, too,” Jordan says from behind me.
I spin around to find him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes glistening with fresh tears. He takes a careful step toward me as Josie leans in to whisper in my ear.
“You have my blessing.”
All anxiety dissolves from my body, and I drop to my knees, my face falling into my hands.
“Please don’t cover up the beautiful face I love so much.”
I lift my gaze. He’s standing a few feet away and we’re now the only people in the room. Keeping my eyes on his, I shift to one knee and reach for his hand.
“You’ve shown me what unconditional love is and how it feels to receive it. For the rest of my life, I’d like to return the favor. You have my whole heart, Jordan. All of me is yours forever. Will you give me the honor of being your wife?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I’ll be the luckiest girl in the world if you say yes.”
Giving me his acceptance, and most importantly, his love, he draws me up and kisses me with a new desire I can feel in every cell of my body.
“Looks like we’ve crossed another activity off the bucket list,” he says softly.
“Make me love you?”
“Yep. Took you long enough,” he teases, swallowing my rebuttal with his mouth. “But well worth the wait.”