Wednesday had been a lather, rinse, repeat of Tuesday, but I crashed out when it was time to go to bed. There was only so much energy I had in me and then it was gone.
Thursday morning dawned, and a glance at my cell told me it was still early. I wondered why Jules was already up—we had nothing on the docket for the day. The plans were in place for the visitation the following day. I’m sure it wasn’t as elaborate as they would have planned for themselves. It was understated and elegant, Mary made sure. But beyond that, I didn’t need a drawn-out affair that made me have to spend any extra time with the toxic people my parents had surrounded themselves with. I was dreading the next morning, but knew it was a necessary step to moving on. And, as Jules had mentioned and Mary had agreed, moving on for me would likely need to be processed with the help of a good therapist. The baggage I was carrying was more than a carry-on.
Yesterday Barry and I had talked to my parents’ staff and explained what the plan was for them moving forward. Barry was reaching out to a real estate agent he knew as well as an auction house up here that would help me sort out what I wanted to keep and sell.
Honestly, there wasn’t much here that held great memories for me, so I just wanted to wash my hands of all of it. However, Mary and Jules had asked me not to be hasty, though a small part of me wanted to bury my head in the sand and ignore any it all. Irresponsible maybe, but it was a desire I was working to ignore. We’d brainstormed together, and the current plan was togo through the house, selecting the few items I knew I wanted to keep. Then Mary was going to work with the estate folks on my behalf and ensure we were in contact by video when they were getting the sale together. I’d likely come back up for that.
All of it seemed exhausting, but with the help of Jules and Mary along with the advice of Barry, it was coming together. But that brought me back to Jules. I pulled on some joggers and a tee and headed out to find my missing bed partner.
The house was silent. Mary wouldn’t get here for about twenty more minutes, which would be seven. There were no signs of life as I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Once I entered it, I looked beyond the counters and found her exactly where I’d suspected. She was bundled up on the chaise on the deck overlooking the lake. It looked like I was about half an hour too late for sunrise, but I wasn’t entirely sure Jules had seen it either—her fingers were currently flying as she typed out what I was assuming her novel on her MacBook.
While she had a blanket around her shoulders and across her lap, it still looked chilly. I glanced at the coffeemaker and saw that it hadn’t been started. I got that going and jogged back upstairs to grab one of my hoodies. Back in the kitchen, I toasted up an everything bagel, slathering chive-and-onion cream cheese on it as she’d done yesterday. Once the coffee was ready, I doctored it up and headed out the French door.
Jules was so far into the zone that she didn’t seem to register my presence on the porch. I put the coffee and bagel on the empty table next to her. As much as I didn’t want to disturb her flow, I could see one arm protruding from the blanket as she typed, and it was covered in goose bumps. That would just not do.
“Babe,” I whispered. No reaction. God, her focus when she wrote was sexy as hell. And I never thought that would be something that turned me on, but here we were. “Jules.” I spokelouder this time. Still nada. I leaned forward and lightly tapped her shoulder. She started and looked up at me, blinking several times.
“Noah?” she said in confusion.
This woman. I wanted to wrap her up and take her back to bed, but I also knew she’d struggled to get into this book, and that didn’t seem to be the truth anymore.
“Hey, babe, I thought you might be cold.” I held out my hoodie, and she pulled it on with a sigh of relief.
I pointed to the coffee and bagel. “I also brought you something to give you some fuel as you write.”
She looked from the side table to me, her gaze becoming warm. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head as I racked my brain, trying to pinpoint if I’d ever felt like this about someone else. My feelings for Jules ranged from wanting to spend unending days in bed, having what I knew would be amazing sex, to pure affection as I watched her simply move through her day, to ease and comfort as we sat and talked.
This was new. I hadn’t dated a ton of women in my life—growing up, I had zero desire to inflict my parents on anyone. In college there were some short relationships, but nothing long term. There was Ivy, but that was clearly stronger as a friendship than anything more, we were just in denial at first. And then for the past six years I’d had other work at the forefront of importance: my job in Africa and being a dad. But I’d never had the ease of friendship along with the heat of something more with the same person. And somehow I knew this was a rare treasure and needed to be treated as such.
“Keep at it. I’m going to get some things done inside.” I started to head back to the door.
“Are you sure? Is there anything I can do to help?” Jules asked, her teeth coming to bite her lower lip once again. I noted she tended to do that when she was uncertain.
“Positive.” I stepped back into the house before she could find a reason to stop writing. As I closed the door, I saw her head bend and her fingers begin flying across the keyboard once again. I leaned against the wall, watching her for a moment before I heard a throat clearing behind me.
“Hey, Mary,” I said without turning.
“So tell me about Ms. Jules,” Mary said, her voice heavy with amusement.
I looked to her. “What’s so funny?”
She shrugged, then began to pull out ingredients from the fridge. Looked like I was getting my omelet today. “I just used to wonder what you’d be like when you fell head over heels in love. Now I know.”
“Oh, that’s a bit dramatic, Mary,” I said. “I wouldn’t sayloveyet.”
“Is that so?” She cracked some eggs in a bowl and began whisking while heating a skillet on the stove. “What would you say then?”
I felt nerves flooding my body. What the literal hell? “Umm, a strong like?”
Mary’s expression could only be described as tolerant. Truly, it said she thought I was an idiot. I wouldn’t say she was wrong.
“Come on, Mare. You know what my model was for relationships growing up…”
“You hush. You had me and Mr. Doyle.” She tried to give me a glare.
I snorted a laugh at her instead. “Yes, Fred has long shown me how to be ever-suffering in your love life.”
