I ring the bell.
And I wait, straining to hear signs of life from inside.
I ring it again, keeping my finger on the buzzer longer than is usually necessary.
But the door remains closed.
Doubt starts to creep in. Maybe I should’ve thought this through better. Planned to come another day. He might not be here, but I could come back on a weekday morning and catch him leaving for work.
Except he’ll now have security footage of me being here. He might change the gate code.
Unless he really has just gone away indefinitely.
But no. He has what he wanted all along. JBW. He wouldn’t leave now.
So maybe a vacation? Or maybe I’m just losing my mind.
With a heavy sense of failure, I lean my back against the front door and figuratively shake my fist at the universe. Then fall backwards as the door swings open.
‘Olivia.’
‘This was not how this was supposed to work,’ I grumble from my position on the floor. I look up, wondering if I’ve ever felt more foolish than this.
Probably.
Definitely.
Beckett looks... sweaty and unreasonable delicious. Shorts and a T-shirt. I’ve obviously disturbed him from working out. But how dare he smile down at me with that sinful half smile of his.
Just like our first encounter, I find myself being lifted up. But unlike our first encounter, my ass is throbbing so hard I’m pretty sure I’ll never get to sit on it again.
‘You’ve lost weight.’ Of course, the first thing that comes into my head flies out of my mouth.
‘A little,’ he agrees.
‘You should hire a cook. To feed you,’ I add, as though the qualification is necessary.
‘I’m pleased you’re here,’ he answers softly, completely throwing me. I mean, throwing me more than seeing him standing here, not the sharp and thorny Beckett of our last meeting but the charming one. The one whose eyes sparkle with something other than the souls of the damned.
This is not the version I’d expected. And this is not going the way I’d planned. At all. Guns blazing? They’re still in the holster.
‘Oh? Maybe you won’t be so pleased when you hear what I’ve got to say to you.’ That’s better. Angry words and an appropriately snarky tone.
‘Maybe not, but do you think I could speak first? Would you mind?’ I shrug magnanimously. Or maybe immaturely, but as he reaches for my hand, I snatch it back. He nods as though understanding before leading me deeper into the house.
‘Please, sit down. I just need to get something.’
We’re in his office. He’d fucked me over that Bauhaus desk last month.God, this feels so weird.I take a seat quite gingerly on one of the two chairs opposite the desk as Beckett makes his way to the other side, opening a draw and pulling out a folder.
Paperwork.
My heart sinks. This is where he serves me with divorce papers. I’ve saved him the trouble of serving me by presenting myself. While examining my idiocy, I somehow didn’t notice he’d moved and is now in front of me, his ass resting on the edge of the antique desk, his long legs stretched out between my chair and the next.
‘First, I need to say I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sorry,what?’ I’m pretty sure my response would’ve been heard three boroughs wide.
‘Well, I can say it you way, but it would really make no sense.’
