“A little.” She still sounds deflated.
My intended explanation needs to be clearer. My finger guides her chin in my direction, forcing her eyes to accept my intense gaze. “Unless it’s related to money in business, I’ve never been able to envision the future. But right now, it’s misty, though it’s clearing. Tell me where your head is at.”
Her mouth parts open, but only a dry, cracked sound escapes. She’s afraid.
“Tell me,” I say, more adamant.
“This doesn’t feel like infatuation. I’m guarded, though, maybe.”
That’s a fair answer.
“We’re on the same road.”
She nods gingerly before I kiss her.
This time, it’s tender, slow, hopeful, no need to escalate to any scrap of fabric on her coming off. It’s simply a feeling of being clasped to someone.
Wanting to be with them so much that you hope that the clasp never breaks.
19
SAVANNAH
The sun streams through the large windows of Julian’s kitchen. Twirling my yogurt in my bowl, I lean against the counter in my tank and pajama shorts. I hear Julian down the hall, deep in a business conversation.I’ve gotten used to this over the last few weeks.A few nights a week, my evenings and mornings are here, unless he’s away on a business trip or at a business dinner. He has thought of a million excuses why I should join him on every trip, but I laugh off every justification he gives. Sometimes space is needed.
I’m overwhelmed with us, to be honest.
Smart me would take a moment to assess and breathe, remind myself that I shouldn’t get attached. The other part of me is riding this wave because I sense things changing between us, in Julian. I’m in an intuitive state to hold on. Everything inside of me screams to do so. I’m reminded too often that I’m now almost elated, when a month ago, he had me fuming in misery some days.
Routine has found us, and it’s the little things that makeme nibble on my bottom lip, because I love the view, and it reminds me of everything that is right in life.
Exhibit A would be him approaching the kitchen with the phone to his ear, his eyes landing on me with an intensity that displays possession. Something about seeing Julian casual at home, his white shirt still untucked, yet his face already shaded to a man who takes no prisoners.
Sucking the remaining yogurt off my spoon, I watch him. He’s wrapping up his conversation and grabs a coffee cup for his machine, which I still haven’t figured out how to work, so, to his dismay, I brought over a classic filter-drip coffee machine that I picked up on sale.He hates it. And I love that.
He gives a firm deadline to whoever is on the phone before hanging up, without even a goodbye.
“Making someone’s day miserable, and it isn’t even 7?”
“No. It’s not 7… they’re in Belgium. Their day is almost over.”He smirks to himself because he’s being a smart-ass and continues to make his cup of coffee. He glances to the side at my coffee machine. “Get rid of it,” he demands without even looking at me.
Spinning on my feet, I place the bowl in the sink. “Nope.”
“Subpar coffee doesn’t belong in my home,” he reminds me.
I walk behind him and rub his back. “Get a machine that doesn’t require reading an entire novel to understand.”
He presses a button. “You have a master's degree. You figured out the machine at the office. You’re a smart cookie.”
Turning around, he faces me and yanks me close. “We’re going together to the office?”
I shake my head. “Nope. My boss has a breakfast meeting at 8:30 sharp at that place on Michigan Avenue. I shall be grabbing the L.”
“Over your boss’s dead body. Your boss will have a driver take you.”
Truthfully, as independent as I am, there is something about someone taking care of me with an air of security. “Fine. Anyhow, I need to go shower. It’s safe since you’re already dressed.”
“I mean, I could probably stretch the schedule to take them off and join you.” I ensure that my face is unreadable while I bat my lashes, and he stunts a laugh. “Message received.”
