Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
THREE WEEKS LATER
FRANKIE
“I can’t believe I won’t get to see you every day anymore.” Paige’s damp cheek presses against mine amid a hug so tight it could only be administered by a slightly drunk person.
The emotion that’s been rising in my throat all evening at my going-away party at the Orange Parasol in downtown Chicago finally cracks now all my other coworkers have left.
“I never thought I’d quit a steady job,” I say.
And I really didn’t. All my life, I thought what I’d wanted was to work my ass off to climb the corporate ladder until I had a secure salary dropping into my bank account every month that was an amount which meant I’d never have to be stressed about money.
I never wanted to be a multimillionaire—I just didn’t want to be overworked and underpaid like my parents.
I didn’t want to worry about paying the electricity bill, or what I would do if my car needed a new muffler.
I just wanted to be able to buy groceries without checking which can of beans was the cheapest, to not have to put on another sweater in the winter so I didn’t have to turn up the heat, to not go a year between haircuts because visiting the salon felt like an indulgent waste of cash.
But I reached that point a long time ago. And never patted myself on the back for it. Never saw that I’d attained my goal. Never paused to enjoy my comfortable life and the free time it should have bought me.
Nope, I got caught up in the corporate whirlwind of ladder climbing until my money was piling up in the bank because I had no spare time to spend it.
Because with every job came more striving for the next, more proving that I could work longer hours than anyone else to set myself up for the next promotion.
I’d ended up being worse off than my parents in many ways. Mainly because there was no love in my life. No time to love anyone. Not family, not friends, certainly not to have a relationship, which felt like it would be the biggest waste of time of all.
And that’s why I turned down the VP of digital marketing position when they offered it to me. The second I’d proven to myself I could get it, I didn’t want it anymore.
It took my grandpa’s double knee replacement and a revenge-seeking billionaire pretending to be a volunteer donkey sitter for me to see the error of my ways.
And now I’ve chosen my own new adventure.
Christmas music jingles around us in the bar as I ease out of Paige’s arms.
“You can come visit whenever you like.” I wipe her alcohol-flushed face dry. “It’ll be a while before the new house is ready, but as soon as it is, you have to come.”
“When do I get a billionaire to buy land next to my family’s home and build me a mansion too?” she pouts.
“It’s definitely not going to be a mansion,” I say.
Miller’s just completed the purchase of two acres adjoining the sanctuary, and we’re in the initial stages of working on plans with one of his architects.
Though, I have already knocked two bedrooms off Miller’s initial idea—we do not need six.
And I’m probably going to have to hold him back from some of the finishes he’s used to putting into his luxury condos and teach him how to build an actual home, rather than a party play pad.
It’s give and take. So far I’ve vetoed an internal sound system with speakers in every ceiling. He’s vetoed…well, nothing yet. He keeps saying he wants to create my dream home.
He’s also going to renovate Grandpa’s farmhouse.
I think it’s fair to say, constructing and repairing buildings is Miller’s love language.
And it’s a fun process. We’re building something that’s a part of both of us, somewhere we can settle and be ourselves.
Once the house is ready, Miller will run his business from the home office—a room where he has free rein, so is installing all the bells, whistles, and speakers he wants—and go to Boston just a couple of days a week for site visits, in-person meetings and the like.
I don’t doubt life will throw up some issues along the way with this plan, but I have no doubt that together we’ll figure them out.
“Your grandpa’s lucky to have you,” Paige says, as we stumble out of the bar and into the cold December night air, the whole street bathed in the red and green glow of Christmas lights.
“Nowhere near as lucky as I am to have him,” I insist. “Without him and his bad knees, I’d never have met Miller.”
“Ah, I bet you would.” She slaps me on the back. “Bet you’d have ended up working on a campaign for a set of nesting tables or whatever and used one of his fancy buildings as a place to stage it for the photos and bumped into him there.”
I pause for a second. “You really think so?”
“I do.”
“But you’re drunk.”
“Not drunk. Just…nicely tipsy.” She taps me on the cheek with her finger. “And no more tipsy than you.”
Right on cue, I stagger into her a little.
“It’s the way the world works,” Paige continues her Moscow mule-induced theory of the universe. “If you’re destined to be with someone, they’ll come to you via some route or another.”
“Is that what happened with you and Sean?”
A laugh spurts out of her so hard her head flies back.
“God, no. He’s not my destiny.” Then she leans into my ear and whispers, “He’s just very hot and has a magic tongue and is excellent for right now.”
She straightens, or at least as much as she can. “But he’s no fun to talk to. After breakfast, all I want is for him to leave. Actually, before breakfast.”
“All men are shit,” I declare.
“No, they’re not.” She shoves me. “Gandhi was good. Mr. Rogers, he’s another one. Oh and your new pal, Prince Oliver always seems nice in interviews.”
“That is one bizarre collection of men who just sprang into your mind all at the same time. And Oliver is Miller’s pal, not mine. Ooh!” A cab with its roof light illuminated heads toward us, and I dive out to hail it.
“Whoa.” Paige reaches for a lamppost to support herself in my absence.
I swing open the cab door. “Here you go. Video call me tomorrow. Then it’ll be like we haven’t really said goodbye at all.”
“And at least Dickish Darren didn’t get the job.” She gives me one last quick hug. “That new woman from Miami is going to have him for breakfast.”
She giggles and tries to get into the back seat headfirst before remembering how to actually get into a car.
“Drink water and take Tylenol before bed.” How I wish she had someone waiting at home to take care of her. “Love you,” I say as I swing the door shut.
She mouths love you back at me through the closed window and waves as the cab drives off along the dark street.
I can’t take my eyes off the red taillights until they blur in my brimming eyes and turn the corner up ahead, disappearing from view.
Wow. I really have changed my whole life plan. All of it.
A couple of tears roll down my cheeks.
I can’t let myself be sad. This is thrilling and exciting. And I’m not losing Paige from my life anytime soon.
A car honks behind me. Shit, I’m still standing in the street.
I back off to the sidewalk and wave an apology, but the shiny black car doesn’t move.
Then the back door swings open and a face appears above it. “Hey.”
“Oh, my God!” My heart swells and soars, my stomach flips, and a giant smile erupts on my lips at the sight of Miller.
“What are you doing here?” I trot back toward the car and gesture to the vehicle. “And what’s this?”
“Well, after I’d finished the last bit of your packing, I ran out of things to do. So I thought I’d get a driver to come see if you need a ride home.”
He takes my hand and climbs back into the car, shuffling across the back seat to make space and pulling me in after him. “I was going to wait outside if you were still in there. But it looks like it was good timing.”
“The very best.” I plant my lips on his and allow myself to sink into the sensation for a moment. After a night at my place, he smells of my body wash again. And tastes like heaven and happiness.
“I brought you something,” he says as the car starts moving.
He reaches onto the seat beside him and hands me a bottle of water and a pack of Tylenol.
Thank God, I opened my mind to accepting that he’s a good guy.
“I knew there was a reason I love you,” I tell him.
Miller is already under the covers, sitting up in bed, checking something on his phone when I walk into my bedroom in my shorty pajamas with my face freshly scrubbed and teeth all minty.
“It feels weird in this apartment with everything ready to go.” The only things not in the boxes stacked along the wall are the bed, nightstands and lamps and the few of my belongings I kept out for tonight and tomorrow.
And, of course, the bag of things Miller brought with him when he arrived two days ago.
He puts down his phone, then reaches over to flip back the covers on my side to welcome me in.
“Thank you so much for coming to pick me up. And for fitting everything into the boxes.” I climb into his arms and he draws me against his bare chest.
“Since you wouldn’t let me book the movers to pack, the least I could do was come help.”
“Paying for the movers is enough of a treat.” I poke his perfectly chiseled nose. “No point paying people to do the part I can do myself. Except you ended up doing most of it for me.”
“Maybe it wasn’t entirely altruistic.” His voice is lower, more throaty. “Maybe I figured if I got it all done, it would free up more of your time and energy for this.” His hand slides up my outer thigh and under the edge of my shorts.
His touch makes me instantly wet.
Actually, who am I kidding? Just seeing him sitting in my bed made me wet.
Him even traveling here to help with my move to Grandpa’s house was a turn-on. Him showing up to pick me up tonight was a turn-on. And when he handed me the water and headache pills, I almost jumped him in the back seat of the car.