“Did you plan this?” I asked Jesse.
He shrugged again. “I might have mentioned a few things I wanted them to stock up on.”
My lips parted, but I couldn’t quite formulate a way to tell him how much I appreciated the thought he’d put into a flight that otherwise might’ve seen me sobbing all the way across an ocean. Because of him, it turned out to be exciting, but peaceful.
We talked. I dozed off for a while, curled up under a soft blanket. I watched the clouds slide past the window when I woke up. Jesse was working on his laptop across from me, the top buttons of his shirt undone and the tie he’d boarded with long gone.
By the time we touched down in Chicago, I’d almost forgotten that my life was about to change completely, but reality returned the moment we stepped off the plane to find a driver waiting for us.
He stood beside a sleek black car like he’d been there for hours, anticipating our arrival. “Miss Roderick. Mr. Westwood.”
Miss Roderick.I wasn’t called that often. Lady Roderick, yes. Miss? Not so much, but I supposed that would change here.
I slid into the backseat beside Jesse, pressing my forehead lightly against the window when the car finally pulled away. Chicago’s glittering glass buildings stretching into the sky seemed different this time, perhaps because it wasn’t only a visit. I had officially moved here. Today was the start of my new life,a future I never would have thought possible in my soon-to-be husband’s city.
My stomach fluttered strangely, but eventually, the car turned into a quieter neighborhood lined with elegant old buildings instead of modern glass. We stopped in front of a stately, historic townhome that looked like it had been standing here since before automobiles had been invented.
The driver cut the engine and climbed out to retrieve our luggage, but Jesse didn’t move right away. I glanced at him, surprised to see that he looked nervous, which was odd. Jesse Westwood didn’t strike me as a man who got nervous about much.
“This is just temporary,” he said suddenly. “The house, I mean.”
He gestured vaguely toward the front door as the driver unloaded the bags and I frowned. “What do you mean, it’s temporary?”
“I only recently moved back to Chicago,” he explained. “This is Will’s place. I’ve been staying with him until I get settled.”
I turned toward the townhome again, somehow seeing it just a bit differently now. “This is Will’s house?”
“Yes,” Jesse said. “Ours for now too, but not for long.”
Something in his tone was slightly off, though. Not wrong, exactly, but definitely uneasy.
Before I could question it, the driver opened my door and Jesse hopped out to collect the luggage from the driveway himself. He insisted on carrying most of it, motioning for me to precede him after unlocking the door.
I stepped inside but instantly stopped walking. The interior was beautiful, with high ceilings, dark wood, and large windows that let in the soft, very early morning light.
It felt lived in but orderly, like it belonged to someone rather organized who preferred their own space to the rest of the world. I could relate.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jesse said, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “I just need to make a few calls.”
He looked mildly apologetic, but I smiled. “Of course. Home sweet home, right? Back to work?”
“Yeah. Something like that.” After flashing me a tight smile, he disappeared down the hallway and I wandered deeper into the house, passing a cozy sitting room, a dining room, and a staircase that curved elegantly upward.
Eventually, I found a smaller room tucked toward the back of the house. It looked like an office, or maybe a library.Both, really.
It wasn’t large, but the walls were lined with shelves packed with books. Loads and loads of them. I stepped inside slowly, unable to stop myself from scanning the titles. Finance. Business strategy. Economics. Leadership.
The collection was extensive for such a small space. I ran my fingers lightly along one of the shelves, suddenly having the strangest feeling that I’d just walked into someone’s mind, and like that someone was much more like me than Jesse had made Will out to be.
From what he’d told me, Will had seemed a bit more free-spirited than this. More like Jesse used to be back in the day. Nothing about Will’s house seemed free-spirited to me at all, but I supposed Jesse had been living here.
Perhaps he’d done some organizing. I was still standing in the office—library—whatever they called this mysterious shrine to business strategy, when Jesse reappeared. He leaned against the doorframe and watched me for a moment before speaking.
“Did you find anything interesting?”
I turned, gesturing vaguely at the shelves. “This is quite a collection he’s got.”
“That’s one word for it.”
