I glance up from where I’m sitting at the dining room table when I hear Emma’s footsteps approaching down the hall.
I left her in my bed. She was curled up, fast asleep.
I got up to work on my laptop, but that requires concentration, so everything that needs my attention is still waiting.
“Good morning,” she whispers when she rounds the corner.
Good morning indeed.
She’s a vision wrapped in another of my button-down shirts. This one is light blue.
I’m tempted to ask her to toss all of her clothes out and only wear mine.
“How are you?”
The compassion in her voice slices through me. She’s a kind soul. Her heart is in the right place.
I knew that the conversation that I started last night wouldn’t end when we fell asleep. She’d want to know more. I want her to know more, but it’s going to take time, and we don’t have a hell of a lot of that left.
Drake will be back in Manhattan soon, and I’ll take off for California.
I imagine Emma will need to settle up her life in Seattle before she starts working at Cabbott.
I glance at the screen of my laptop and the information that I’m gathering in a document to send off to one of Cabbott’s lawyers. She’ll plug the details into a standard contract for Emma to sign.
I decided on the salary we’ll offer and the perks.
It’s the location of the job that I’m stuck on.
I want her in San Francisco. I want to continue what we’ve started. Maybe, last night was the first step toward that.
“I’m fine,” I say. “How are you, Emma?”
“Tender.” Her hand dives to cover her mound. “Last night was intense.”
“In a good way.” I wave her over. “Sit in my lap.”
She pads over on her bare feet. With a yank on the hem of my shirt to pull it down, she settles on my lap. The only thing separating us is the boxer briefs I’m wearing.
Her hand falls into my hair. Running her fingers through it, she smiles. “I know last night wasn’t easy for you. I mean the sex was easy.”
I let out a chuckle. “Pleasing you is easy. I’d do anything to make you feel good.”
“I want to make you feel good too.” Her lips brush my forehead. “Your body and your heart. I want to make every part of you feel good.”
Including my conscience?
When I glance up and into her eyes, I see that she means everything she just said. “When we first met, I wondered if you knew about Apollo. I wondered if Drake had told you.”
Her fingers trace a path across my forehead. “He didn’t say a word. I had no idea that your brother had passed away.”
The words are as peaceful as Apollo’s death was.
What came after was the brutal part.
“He moved to Manhattan six weeks before he died.”
Her breathing stutters. “He moved into this apartment with you?”
