When Jules is standing next to me in my private elevator, wearing that fucking dress and standing close enough that I can feel her body heat, I almost don’t believe it’s real.
Perhaps sensing Jules and I had a lot to talk about, Ettie insisted on Gus coming back to her place for a sleepover with Dawson, and promised to text Jules each time he took his meds, and to keep an extra close eye on him.
Then, Jules came with me. Got in my car, rode with me back to my apartment. And during each step of the process, part of me wasn’t convinced. Was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But now, she steps out of the elevator with me, coming to a stop, glancing at me, then back at the apartment.
“Russell,” she says, her voice pitching up. “What—what happened to your stuff?”
Everything is gone. The living room, which was once decorated in a simple, monochromatic modern style, is barren. No couch, no coffee table. The way I last saw her in this home, sitting on that couch with her face crestfallen, has been wiped clean.
Jules pushes against my arm, “Russell—is it even possible for someone to break in here? It looks like you were robbed!”
“I wasn’t robbed,” I say, reaching down and taking her hand, still surprised when she allows me to. “Come on, I have something to show you.”
The interior designers were confused about my vision, but people don’t generally argue when you throw thousands of dollars at them to get the job done.
Following along behind me, her hand in mine, Jules climbs the stairs, pulling her stole tighter around her shoulders as we make our way.
“Three days ago,” I say, turning to her in the hallway. “Orie talked some sense into me. I realized that my resistance to taking that paternity test was based on my past, and not on the future. Not on you, Jules. And once I figured it out, I could only hope that you’d still be willing to take me back once I worked through my shit.”
She stares at me, her throat working. I reach into my pocket and tap to the messages from Calvin, opening the photo of the lab results.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, bringing her hand to her mouth when her eyes land on the POSITIVE typed neatly next toresults. “I—I knew it was you but…it was you.”
I nod, feeling only slightly nervous as I take my phone back and slide it into my pocket. “Yeah. You were right. And I’m sorry for resisting the test. I just…I’ve believed this about myself for so long that it was hard to let go. Hard to believe that I could ever deserve something as good as you and Gus.”
Jules starts to tear up, a watery smile playing over her face. “God, this is like a telenovela or something.”
That makes me laugh and breaks me out of the nervous tension that seems to be wrapping around my body. This isJules. The woman I’ve known somehow for five years, or several months, or maybe even really just for now. No matter where the clock really started, I know that I want to keep getting to know her for as long as she’ll let me.
“Three days ago, when I realized I would do whatever it took to have you back, I called in some interior designers, sold or donated all the other furniture here.”
“Russell, why?—”
“Because, you and Gus are coming to live with me.” It’s a bit of a gamble, pulling out this commanding voice for something like this, and so soon after Jules has forgiven me, but it pays off when her smile grows wider and her lip starts to tremble, tears breaking out over her face.
I pull her into my arms, smooth her hair away from her face. For as long as we’re together, I want to do everything in my power to make sure she never feels like that again. And it sure as shit isn’t going to be from me.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat and pulling back when her breathing levels out. “I sold or donated everything, and there’s just one bedroom I had them go ahead and decorate, since I had a pretty good idea of what it should look like.”
With that introduction, I reach out and open the door we’re standing next to, revealing the bedroom I put together with Gus in mind.
The bed is a soft sage green, with a semi-circle, padded fabric headboard, scales and a horn completing the dinosaur around the mattress. The walls are painted a soft blue. One wall features a pastel jungle scene. There are plushies and toys, and an expansive—but empty—closet, and a little reading nook with a huge bookshelf in the shape of a tree, the trunk lined with shelf after shelf of all the kids books I could find.
Above the bed is a little balcony he can climb up onto, which slides down into a padded play area.
“Oh myGod,” Jules says, for the second time tonight. “Russell, this is—I don’t even know what to say?—”
“I want you and Gus in my life. I want to be the perfect husband to you and father to Gus. This feels like the second chance I never thought I was going to get,” I say, breathing through the words, no matter how badly I don’t want to say them. “I know you already said yes, Jules, but that was with the pressure of an audience. If you?—”
Her answer to that comes fast and warm, with her body pressing against mine, her hands tugging my face down so she can kiss me silent.
It’s been too fucking long since I had my hands on her body, and I instantly find her hips, those curves that are so addictive to me.
And it’s this dress, the same one I balled in my fist five years ago. The same night I met the woman who drove me mad and ruined everyone after.
Reaching down, I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. It’s easy to carry her across the hall to a nondescript guest bedroom, where I lay her down on the mattress.
