Chapter 11 #2
That same evening, though, things became clearer as soon as James’s face appeared across my laptop screen. Just seeing him felt like everything fell into place. I wanted to be near him. I wanted to share my days and nights with him. God, I missed him.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hi, honey.” I smiled and adjusted the laptop on the coffee table. “Did you just get out of the shower?”
“About twenty minutes ago.” He yawned and folded an arm under his head.
He was lying in bed, his hair looked a little damp, and he was holding his phone so I could only see from his chest up.
“I did some errands, bought a snack for my hellcat, killed time at the gym, and almost fell asleep on the most uncomfortable couch a hotel’s ever seen. ”
I grinned and took a sip of my wine.
“I have wineglasses?” he asked.
“You do now.” I chuckled to myself and set down the glass again. I’d lit my scented candle—fresh linen all the way—I’d poured a glass of white, and I was almost done sorting the border pieces of my new puzzle. “I need a glass or two after my session with Doc today.”
He lifted his brows. “Oh boy. Want me to beat him up? What happened?”
I shook my head in amusement. “He’s wonderful. But he wouldn’t tell me if my moving in here is the right choice or not.”
“Ah.” His amusement turned wry. “Yeah, he has a way of letting you do all the work yourself. I don’t know why he’s getting paid.”
He made me laugh every time we talked like this.
He spoke again. “It was just an offer, baby. I know rents are fucked around there, and I was imagining you trying to make a life for yourself with a stranger you might not have chemistry with. Maybe the apartment’s great, but the roommate’s garbage. Maybe it’s the other way around. I don’t know.”
See, that was an excellent point. The more I thought about it, the more I recognized that I wasn’t dealing with a bunch of high anxiety or distress, so much as I was just…tired. I wanted my world a little smaller. I wanted to take my baby steps in peace—but bills waited for no one.
“And I appreciate that offer so much,” I replied. “I want—”
“For the record, I can see the way your arms are moving,” he told me. “Are you working on a new puzzle?”
I smirked, grabbed the laptop, and angled it to show the table. I’d bought the puzzle today.
“Is that a specific rain forest or just a random illustration?”
“The ,” I answered. “I guess I was inspired by my South American focus lately.”
“Fuckin’ A. I wanna build that when I get home.” He paused. “Wait a damn minute. Is that a candle?”
Oh God. I cracked up and returned the laptop so he could see me properly.
“It sure is! It’s scented too.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled. But I was onto him. He was grumbling for the sake of it. Some men just wanted to complain a little. But actually, James had another goal in mind too. “It’s happening. My home is turning into a spa salon.”
I laughed even harder at that. Mission accomplished for him. I saw it in his cocky little grin. He’d set out to make me smile, make me laugh, brighten my mood, and he always succeeded.
This was what I wanted. I wanted to be right here, even when he wasn’t, and I wanted to run into his arms when he rotated back home.
“When you come home, I’ll teach you how to exfoliate and put on face masks,” I promised.
“The fuck you will,” he laughed gruffly.
The puzzle was forgotten. Cheesy as it sounded, I just wanted to look at him. His sleepy grins ranked high up there. Especially with the silvery scruff, the laugh lines, and those sexy blue eyes on display.
He let out a breath and scratched his chest absently. “I miss you, Kiera. I’m not gonna lie—I hope you’ll wanna stay with me. For all the selfish reasons, aside from the extremely altruistic ones.”
And he says things like that.
I grinned and rested my elbow on my thigh, and I planted my cheek in my hand.
“I miss you too, pilot. And I don’t wanna go anywhere.
As I started saying before you became more concerned about my puzzle—” I snickered at his playful scowl.
“I want to stay, James. But I’ve been thinking about this a lot today, and I think the reason I’ve been on the fence is…
I miss having something that’s just mine.
” I paused, remembering all the months I’d hidden away behind Noura’s house.
The concrete walls and nothingness. “I spent six months staring at cracked concrete and hiding in clothes that covered me from head to toe. I could barely leave. I had no belongings. My phone, my TV, just being able to go to the bathroom and see my own shampoo bottle, my own toothbrush—none of that.”
He nodded with a dip of his chin. “The little things we take for granted.”
“Exactly.” I knew he would understand me, given his line of work. He gave up his comfort all the time. “So, here’s my suggestion. I’ll rent your second bedroom.”
He scratched his chin. “I’m listening. I mean, of course you can—I’m just waiting to hear your idea for our sleeping arrangements.”
I exhaled a laugh and shook my head. “My idea is that I’ll be in your arms every night.”
God, his smile was just out of this world.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he murmured. “So you’ll set up shop in the second room—turn it into a scented candle factory—”
I laughed.
“Or whatever,” he said. “It’ll be just for you. I don’t know. You mentioned you wanted a comfy reading chair and shit like that.”
I nodded. I really did want that. And a good space to hang my clothes. Maybe put up a bookcase or two.
“You can decide rent when you get home,” I suggested.
At that, he rolled his eyes. “Sure. A dollar.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “James.”
“And ninety-nine cents!”
When I gave him my most impressive look, he merely chuckled and told me that wasn’t gonna work on him. We’d see about that. I could pull out the doe eyes too. I was just saving them for when he came home.
Actually, I could also threaten him.
“You better do as I say, or you’ll come home to more than a scented candle,” I said. “We’re talking bath salts, throw pillows, and colorful rugs.”
He snorted, too amused for my liking. “You think that actually bothers me? Go fuckin’ nuts, hellcat. Don’t let my trolling convince you I don’t want you to spread your crap around.”
He was so damn funny sometimes—the way he phrased himself—that I couldn’t stop cracking up. But that was good to know; he wanted me to spread my “crap” around.