Page 185 of Perfect Satisfaction

Brendan interrupts us to cheerfully add, “Not to mention he was an annoying prick who—‍”

JB snaps from where he’s lounging with Liza wrapped around him like a blanket, “Sod off, B!”

I chuckle before tabling plans for more lascivious activities with Sula until tonight. We arrived later than she normally gets to JB’s estate for the holidays and both brothers are practically glued to her side. Other than a quick jaunt when Dani and Liza dragged Sula away for some shopping yesterday, she’s barely had a moment when she’s been alone.

When she is, I’m waiting to wrap her in my arms.

Then again, I fear she will sneak into the kitchen one night, pull down a cast iron skillet, and brain all the men in this family. “If you all don’t stop shaking the gifts, I’m canceling Christmas. Leave them be.”

Sula storms out of the house with Dani and Liza to build a snowman with Celia and throw snowballs with Max.

Brendan snickers, “I bet she has ‘cancel Christmas’ on a project plan.”

JB asks with some wonder, “How do you not wrap my sister up in ribbon and stake her to a tree?”

I shoot him a lazy smile but don’t say anything. I won’t mention my idea about scarves and his four-poster antique bed. He might throw me out of the house before I find out what’s wrapped in that little box she hand-carried from New York.

But JB doesn’t run a multi-billion dollar empire for nothing. “Right. Forget I said a word. The very last thing I want to hear about is my sister’s—”

“But, JB, she’s read about yours in the paper,” Brendan taunts.

JB shoots him the bird.

And they’re off.

Thank God my grandfather arrives tomorrow to even up the odds. Otherwise, I’ll never make it through this bloody family gathering.I groan aloud, causing everyone to stop bickering and cast their attention to me. Sheepishly, I admit, “I just thought the word ‘bloody’ in a sentence.”

Brendan yells, “Traitor!”

JB appears smug.

When I tell Sula later, after trailing one of the silk scarves over her body, she just laughs—a sound that warms my heart even in the cold English winter.

Weeks later, we’re at the house on Grand Cayman, wrapped in nothing but one another, when Sula’s phone rings. She frowns. “Only Angie can get through.”

I trail my fingers over her stomach. I fully intend on having my wife again, but I’m in no hurry. We have all the time in the world. Time. I close my eyes and say a prayer for it. It could have sped away from me, us.

My fingers graze the top of her pubic bone when she shoots straight up in bed, jerking away from my hold. “Angie! Are you serious? Ohh! I’m going to cry!”

Then she starts to in big heaving sobs.

I snatch her phone from her hand as I pull Sula close. Warily, I ask, “Angie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nada, zippo!” She’s laughing and crying. And, judging by the slapping of feet jumping up and down. “Beckett and Paige had their baby!”

My throat burns at being included in this moment. “That’s incredible. Bloody brilliant.”

Angie hiccup-laughs. “Watch yourself, Arek. You’re really starting to sound like JB.”

It’s a simple comment, but family and friends have come full circle, granting acceptance, forgiving my selfish actions, accepting my need to bind the woman at my side to me completely, and understanding her selfless need to remain there. “Tell them congratulations.”

“I will. Hey, am I on speaker?”

“Hold on.” I fumble with the button until she is.

“Listen, you two, this trash magazine StellaNova . . .” Angie pauses for me to react. I growl in mock frustration. I still take crap from our expanding circle of friends who have come to accept I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it. As I said to Sula, “I’m going with your MO about JB.”

“What? Calling them out to keep them on their game?”