“Sorry. He’s just… he’s really great,” I murmur, smiling to myself. I wait for her reply but the line is thick with silence, and I feel myself bristle. “What?”
“I’m sure you think he’s nice, darling. But that’s what you thought about Travis, isn’t it?”
I frown. “Well, yes. But—”
“You do have a tendency to do this sort of thing. You’ve only been over there for a few months and you already think you’ve found Prince Charming! I thought you went over there towrite, Alexis. That’s what you’ve been carrying on about this whole time.”
“Well...” I swallow down the sense of unease rising inside me. “I can do both.”
“But you’ve already given up on your writing,” she says, and anger flares in my chest.
“I haven’t given up on it,” I snap. For fuck’s sake. Here I was thinking she’d be pleased I’d met someone after her negative reaction to me being single, but now she’s just finding reasons to be negative about this! Why does nothing I doevermake her happy?
My phone pings and I pull it back to see an email from Justin flash up on the screen. My heart jerks. “Mum, I’ve got to go.” I end the call and, with shaking hands, open Justin’s email. And there, on the screen, is the news I’ve been waiting for.
I’ve got the job.
40
Iknock quietly on Michael’s door, not wanting to wake Henry. My whole body is fizzling with nervous energy. I’ve spent all evening thinking about the job offer from Justin. Apparently itwasn’tso unrealistic to believe I could get a job as a writer over here. I’ve worked my butt off and earned this, and that feels good.
Well, it’s bittersweet. Mel obviously hasn’t said anything to Justin about Michael, but it’s only a matter of time. There’s no doubt in my mind she’ll make good on her threat if she wants to.
I’m trying to tell myself it’s okay. I’ve made my choice and that’s being with Michael. I feel bad for letting Justin down, and I guess I could ask to write about something else, but Mel did say that was unlikely. Besides, I’ve spent the past month proving I can write about being single. To ask for something else now wouldn’t be fair. I’ll just have to let it go. Maybe I’ll do what Michael suggested; focus on my romance novel and see if I can do something with that.
I can’t deny how torn I feel, though. I wanted this job and now that I’ve finally got it, I have to give it up. And while I know that’s the right choice, I still feel uneasy about it. Mum’s words echo through my head—I thought you went over there to write—and I keep trying to push them away. I know that if I can just see Michael, just talk to him about all this, I’ll feel better.
The door swings open. He’s standing there in a navy blue T-shirt that shows his muscular arms, his hair is slightly mussed, and he’s visibly struggling to contain his grin. “Hey, beautiful.”
Oh God. I feel better already.
“Hi.” I bite my lip at the sight of him, feeling strangely shy. “How’s Henry?”
“He’s great.” Michael’s eyes track over me, then without warning he pins me up against the door frame and claims my mouth with a blistering kiss. Heat pools in my belly, spreading out along my limbs. I get a mental image of Agnes catching us and have to stop myself from giggling.
“How is it possible that I missed you so much after only one day?” he murmurs into my hair, his hands snaking their way around my waist and holding me close against him. I can feel how hard he is already, and as he kisses me again, I’m overcome by the urgent need to get his clothes off.
“Sorry.” He draws away from me with a sheepish laugh. “I probably shouldn’t maul you the second you get in the door. Let’s have a drink.”
“What?” I blow out a breath in disbelief. “Fuck that. Bedroom.” The words slip out before I can stop them and Michael’s eyebrows shoot up.
Jesus, what iswrongwith me?
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling warmth spread over my cheeks. “Just ignore me.”
He shakes his head, his eyes sparking as he slides a hand down to lightly smack me on the butt. “No. Bedroom it is. Now.”
Oh, there’s that bossy voice.Fuck.
I giggle, stumbling into the apartment and finding my way to his room. Then he’s peeling my dress off, kissing his way down my chest and slipping a hand into my underwear as I stand, grasping his shoulders because I’m weak at the knees. I reach for his belt buckle impatiently, but he pushes my hands away, nudging me back onto the bed.
“You promised,” he murmurs, tugging at my underwear and sliding it down my legs.
“What?”
He kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed, taking my legs and hooking them over his strong shoulders. “I’ve been waitingforeverto do this.”
I give him a wry smile. “You mean you’ve been waiting a few days.”
