Reunion snuggles. That’s what we always called it when we reunited after an absence. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
We remain like that for a long, sweet moment. “Do you think your firm will even let you stay on after they find out what you did?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I handle a lot of big clients, and I don’t have a non-compete clause in my contract. It was one of the concessions I forced from them when I joined. So they know if I leave, there’s a good chance at least some of my clients will leave with me.”
“Won’t the developer you’re supposed to be representing be really upset and complain?”
“Possibly. But I’ve already located several other potential properties in the region that would work better for what they have planned. Farther from Maudlin Falls, too, so it’s doubtful they’ll impact sales at your store. Cheaper property with fewer hurdles to jump to acquire and rezone.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I smile. “This is sort of my jam. I don’t usually handle real estate, but I’ve gained a reputation for seeing the entire chess board and gaming out multiple options for my clients, including some that are better than what they’d originally intended.”
“And if the firm fires you?”
I shrug again. “I made a living before I worked there. I’ll figure it out.”
He runs his fingers through my hair as he studies me for a moment. “Talking about uncertainties in your income used to freak you the heck out.”
“Yep. Still freaks me out. But do you know what freaks me out even more?”
He shakes his head.
“The thought of not spending the rest of my life with you.”
He studies me for a moment. “Your mother will flip out, won’t she?”
A stab of anxiety twists my guts but I shove it away. “Probably. That’s her issue, not mine. I’ve tried several times to pay them back my college tuition, and they refused. They are the ones who insisted I go to college and leaned on me to go to law school. I didn’t beg them to pay for it—it was expected I would go, and I really wasn’t given a choice about going to law school. It’s time for me to stop living for them and start living for me.”
“She’s going to hate me.”
“She didn’t hate you before. She hated that I wouldn’t go along with all her plans for me. But when I did that, it made me unhappy, and hurt you in the process. Took me too long to finally drive that point home inside my heart.”
“When did you change your mind about all of that?”
“It’s been brewing for a long time,” I admit. “When I saw the wedding bands in the jewelry store window Monday, I thought to myself, “Tommy would love those.’ That’s when I knew, and everything finally clicked into place.”
“Really?” I don’t blame him for looking dubious.
I nod. “I was terrified you’d already moved on and I’d screwed up my life and happiness just to make my parents happy.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m an introvert.” Despite his smile I see the lines in his face that weren’t there the last time I held him in my arms. I hate that grief over what I did caused them.
“I’m so sorry. I cannot say that enough.”
He lays a finger over my lips. “I love you, but please, you don’t have to keep saying you’re sorry. Show me. Show me you mean what you say. That’s how you turn my answer into a yes.”
I nod.
He leans in and, cradling my face in his palms, gives me a long, sweet kiss so achingly beautiful and perfect that it nearly breaks me. He then tips his head toward my laptop. “Finish your work. We’ll talk later.”
“Thanks.”
He releases me and exits the kitchen with Jester following him.
I think maybe I finally have my life back on track.
I hope.
Chapter Eleven
Tomas
Yes, it’s admittedly borderline insane that I’m willing to let Des waltz back into my life and bed this easily but…
Is there any valid reason for me to sacrifice myself on some mythical altar of principles just to make him suffer?
Really?
I’m certain I have plenty of friends in town who might demand my guy’s head on a pike for how he left and never returned. Except despite their love and affection for me, they are not me. Third-party righteous indignation on my behalf is very sweet, but it’s not very practical when applied to my life.
It certainly doesn’t warm the gaping space next to me in bed every night.
Can’t hold me on chilly evenings.
Won’t be a life partner for the rest of my time on this planet.
I’m not ready to talk about this to anyone yet. I know if I try, my business will spread around town more than it already has. No doubt I’m certain the sight of a strange vehicle parked in my driveway all night—a vehicle spotted just outside of town and attached to a suspected sighting of Desi—has already started tongues wagging. I’m genuinely shocked my phone’s not ringing off the hook this morning.
Then there’s the whole issue of I’m not yet certain what this is between me and Des.
I gather Jester and go curl up on the couch to watch TV. I should work on something for the store—social media, accounting, anything.
Except I can’t brain that hard at this moment.
All I want to do is not think about anything except surviving until Des reaches a point in his work where he can stop and talk to me about whatever this is. Or will be.
It’s nearly noon when he emerges from the kitchen and stands in front of the sofa. Automatically, I scoot over a little and pat the cushion next to me, like I always did in the past.
Old habits die hard and this house has felt exceedingly large and empty without his presence.
Desi sits and I know this might make me a little needy, but I turn around and lay my head in his lap so I can look up into his eyes while we talk. We’ve done a lot of talking like this over the years.
“Done?” I ask.
“Almost. After lunch, I need to look up a couple of things about registering non-profit corporations with the state. Once I have those papers filed, then I can file for his Federal Identification Number with the IRS. It’ll take time to get the applications through the county and state level for the historic designations, but with the graveyard on the property, that’s basically a formality. It’s practically guaranteed he’ll get the designations.”
That’s not a sure thing. “But not completely guaranteed?”
“I’ll make sure it goes through. We can drum up enough support in the town to give statements at the public hearings. Once it’s settled at the county level, we can push it up to state and there won’t be any objections.”
“What if that doesn’t happen?”
“It will. It’s mostly so we can get his property taxes reduced. All the other plans can still proceed even before that’s completed.” He lays out everything he’s accomplished so far, literally in less than twenty-four hours, and I can’t help but be amazed.
He was always smart. That’s one of the things that attracted me to him in the first place, that we could have actual conversations on a wide variety of topics. And he never made me feel dumb, either. He wasn’t an arrogant smart-ass. Just a sweet, funny, smart, handsome guy.
Once he finishes, a natural pause follows and he watches my expression for a moment. “Anything,” he says. “I’ll do it for you.”
I have been thinking about this while he was working. “I need you home every weekend, and as many nights as possible. I need complete transparency from you when you have to be away. Unless you’re in court or with a client, if I want to video chat, we do.”
He nods. “Done.”
“If you have to travel with any other attorneys, you room by yourself.”
Another nod.
“Even before we’re officially married—if we get to that point—when you’re away from town, you’ll wear your wedding band and keep it on.”
&nb
sp; He smiles. “You were never territorial before. I like that.”
The snark flies free and I don’t try to rein it in. “You never left me before.”
His smile fades. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I don’t ding him for the apology. “I might throw this in your face from time to time. You need to accept that. And don’t be shocked if Mom and Dad—or anyone else—gives you an unholy ration of hell for leaving me. Or tries to talk me out of taking you back while right in front of your face.”
“I’ll deserve it and accept every bit of it.”
He certainly sounds like a guy willing to walk through fire to prove himself. “I will need your travel schedule when you have to leave. Preferably in advance. If I ever decide I want to go with you on a trip, even at the last minute, I get no arguments about it.” I know this last point is petty. “And I want full access to your cell phones—work and personal. Not just the phones, but the bills, too, so I can see the phone records.”
“I’ll also give you my e-mail, social media, and other passwords. Just don’t tell anyone about seeing my work stuff. That’s a breach of confidentiality and could get me terminated at best, and sued at worst.”
“I would never do anything to get you in trouble.” I’ll probably never ask to see all those things anyway. Not his work ones. Still, I want the option on the table in case I think I need it.
I also want him thinking I’ll ask to see them at any time. That he’s volunteering unlimited access to me tells me there’s nothing to see on them that would upset me.
“Will you come to Miami with me to help me pack and move?” he asks.
I wish I could promise him that but a little common sense helps me pull the brakes.
For now. “We don’t have a timeframe for that yet. What if your work says you can’t work remotely and you have to go back? How will you handle that and still be home every weekend?”
“I promise you, within six months I will be living and working here permanently, one way or another.” The quiet yet firm conviction in his tone is one I never would have doubted before. “Even if they make me choose between working for them or resigning. I’ll resign and open a firm here, or go back to working with a firm out of Colley or Webley or somewhere. I’m not a guy right out of law school now. I have a professional history and track record and knowledge I didn’t have before. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep my word to you.”
It’s tempting for me to backpedal, soften my approach, and tone it down. I don’t like being this way.
I don’t like feeling this way.
After all the concessions my brain has made to my heart so far today, this one will not be allowed to slide. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that deadline.”
His sad smile activates every instinct within me to comfort him. “Thank you for giving me a second chance, Tommy. I won’t let you down, I swear.”
I reach up and stroke his cheek. “You don’t get another chance after this one. No matter how well you cook.”
His smile brightens, making my heart leap despite my caution. “I’ve missed cooking for you.”
“I’ve managed to survive.” I pat my stomach, which isn’t as flat as I wish it was. “Unfortunately, I’ve been eating at Alacea’s way too much.”
“How’s Bob doing, anyway?”
“Might have to talk to him to convince him not to poison your French onion soup.” We both chuckle at that. it was something special he’d make for Desi, but it wasn’t on the menu. Then I poke him in his gorgeous abs. “Looks like you’ve been hitting the gym on the regular.”
“Not really. Especially not the past few weeks. I hate going.”
“You always did. No lawn to mow, I take it?”
Desi snorts. “Not at my condo.”
“Think you remember how to mow a lawn? You’ll have to do chores again.”
He leans in and kisses me. “I can’t wait to do chores for you.”
* * * *
We manage to peel ourselves off the couch before we get too far down the path of fooling around and distracting each other. Because we’re really good at that and always have been. We’ve been known to kill an entire weekend morning or afternoon in bed or on the couch without meaning to.
Chemistry never lacked between us, that’s for sure.
Back to the kitchen, he insists I sit while he cooks us lunch. My headache’s mostly gone now and my stomach feels a lot better. It’s nice to watch him cook again, even if he did put on his shirt. Lunch is a cheese frittata, one of my favorites.
Something I haven’t made for myself since the last time we were together, because he made it for me when I was with him.
It was too painful a reminder.
“How are you going to break this to your mom?” I ask. “Sounds like she was pretty eager for you to be with that other guy.”
“Honestly? I’m beyond worrying about that now.” He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It’s my life. Our life. You and me.”
“She’s going to hate me now, isn’t she? Stealing her baby from her?”
He smirks. “Then she can move to Maudlin Falls to be near me. Not that Dad will let her do that.”
“No offense, but they’re not staying here with us when they visit. Not after the last time, or after all of this.”
“Oh, heck no, they won’t!” he says. “I’m still shocked she apologized that time without me dragging it out of her.”
I’m certain his mom didn’t mean to be insulting, and maybe it was her form of a joke, but she really upset me and made me mad. The first—and only—time they visited us here, she joked when they walked in how “charming” the house was, and did we have indoor plumbing, or an outhouse?
Thank goodness Mom wasn’t here, or she might have decked the woman.
To Desi’s credit—and his father’s—they both immediately yanked her metaphorical chain for that and she apologized and insisted she was joking.
Okay, I can understand someone being nervous and cracking a joke that falls flat. I get it. But she spent the entire weekend making snippy little comments about how “quaint” Maudlin Falls was, and how much money I could be making working for some accounting firm in Miami. Quips like that.
By the end of the weekend, Desi and his dad were hurrying her out of the house.
She was perfectly friendly to me when we were in Miami and visiting them there, but I could tell she wanted her son out of my hometown and back under her thumb.
For too many years, she succeeded in that goal.
After lunch, I let Desi clean up the dishes because he volunteers. “I shouldn’t be too much longer. I’ll have to make a couple of work calls, too. Then we can get your truck.”
I nod, thinking about the rings upstairs. “I’ll go watch more TV. I guess I needed a day off more than I realized.” I lean in and kiss him. “We still need to talk tonight.”
“Yeah.”
I hope I’m doing the right thing and not handing my heart to him to shred again.
I spend the afternoon mostly napping on the couch. A few times, I hear him in talking in the kitchen, and when I sneak over to the doorway and listen, it always sounds like it’s work-related.
It’s a little after four when he finally emerges from the kitchen and walks out to the living room, where I’m stretched out on the couch. “Okay, done for today. I’m all yours.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Really. I need to file paperwork in Webley tomorrow in person, then we can figure things out from there.”
“I need to work tomorrow.”
“I know.”
I sit up. “Let me go change clothes and we can head out.” A buzz of excitement fills me, tempered only a little by my caution.
This is really happening.
Desi’s back.
He meets me downstairs and I notice he’s not carrying his laptop case. It’s still on the kitchen table. I lock the house behind us and follow him to his SUV.
“Range Rover, huh?” I as
k.
“Yeah.” He looks a little bashful. “Bought it a few months ago. I really liked how it rides.”
“Thought your mom hates SUVs?”
His smile widens. “She does.”
We get in as I laugh over that. “So you started your rebellion even then, huh?”
“I guess. But I figured it’s my money, and I’m the one driving it. If it were up to her I’d be driving a Porsche or Mercedes so she can brag to all her friends.”
“These things are pricey. What’s wrong with that?”
“I know that and you know that, but it’s my mom. She has her own way of thinking.”
“True.”
We drive in silence for a little while and I finally reach over to lay my hand on his thigh. That was something else I missed. Whoever was driving, the other usually did that.
And he lays his hand over mine and squeezes, holding it.
I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want to get my heart broken again.
But this sure feels…right.
When we reach the Falls Inn, I’m glad there’s not many cars in the lot. Desi parks next to my truck and gets out with me, walking around to stand by my driver door as I unlock it.
“I’m going to stop by the store for a few minutes on my way home and check on things,” I tell him.
“Okay. Be careful.”
“You be careful.” I brush a kiss across his lips and it calls to mind countless memories of the past.
Nearly enough to make me start crying again.
“I won’t be long,” he assures me. “I will be back. I promise.”
“Show, don’t tell. Love you.”
He smiles. “Love you, too.”
When I back out of the parking lot and pull away, I notice he’s still standing there, watching me with a slightly goofy smile on his face.
Dare I hope this means my future’s finally on the rise?
All I can do is hope and give him the chance to prove himself.
If he hurts me again, then I guess I only have myself to blame for letting him back into my heart.
Chapter Twelve
Desi
How Many Times Do I Have to Say I'm Sorry? (Maudlin Falls) Page 9
