by Karen Booth
“You outdid yourself yesterday.” Just saying it made me hungry for more of him. I had once thought this was a feeling you could only have in your teens or twenties. Now I knew I'd been wrong.
“The sex is even better now. How is that possible?”
I popped up on to my elbow. “Yes. I was just thinking the same thing.”
Under the tangled covers, he trailed his fingers from my waist, up over my hip and down my thigh. It was like someone running their hands over every button inside an elevator—everything inside me was back on again. “You're much freer with your body now, Katherine. It's really very sexy.”
I laughed quietly. He wasn't wrong, but boy howdy had Eamon and I made a solid run at being free with our bodies the first time we'd been together. “I’m sort of over worrying about the parts of me that pudge out. I'll never be as skinny as you, anyway.”
“I love every square inch of you, especially the wobbly bits.” He pushed me onto my back and started kissing my neck again, lazily blazing a trail with his mouth that led across my chest and ended at my breasts. He pressed soft kisses in a circle, which was heavenly on its own, but I nearly shot off into space when he drew my nipple into his mouth.
I arched into him. He knew exactly how to make me weak. I reached over to my bedside table and grabbed the box of condoms sitting there. “Last one,” I said, handing him the packet.
“Better make it count.” He rolled to his side then he had me at his mercy again. He went as deep as he could, pressing into my hips with his, nuzzling my neck with his scratchy beard. I wrapped my legs around him, digging my heels into his ass and running my hands all over his back. It didn't take long before we were both gasping for breath.
I curled into him, kissing his chest. “We should probably think about food at some point.”
He drew circles on my back with his hand. “We never ate dinner last night.”
“I know. What sounds good? I could make eggs. Maybe French toast?” I started to get out of bed, but he stopped me with a tug of his arm. “Eamon. We just finished. I’d like to return to work without a limp.”
He laughed. “Well done, keeping your head in the gutter.”
“If anyone has their brain in the gutter, it's you.” I relented and sat down on the bed.
“I need to say something. And I don't think it's a good idea to wait on it.” There was a sharp edge to his voice that made my stomach sink. There was something wrong, or at the very least something bothering him, and it didn't seem fair that we should have to face anything hard or difficult right now. We were just getting started.
“What is it?”
“We never talked about this when you were in Ireland. Everything snuck up on us so fast.” He held my hand, playing with my fingers, looking down and avoiding my eyes.
“What is it?” I couldn't begin to imagine what it was that we hadn't talked about. We'd talked about so much—dreams and beauty and aspirations.
When he looked up, his steely gray eyes nearly made the earth stop spinning. “Love. We never talked about love. All that time together and we never said ‘I love you’.” He reached up and it was his turn to push the hair back from my face. “Truth is, I love you. I think I have always loved you. Even all this time. I think I've loved you since before we even knew each other.”
Tears wobbled in my eyes. I felt that, too. I'd put it in my letter. The one that was never read. I'd put I love you out into the universe and it disappeared. “I love you, too, Eamon. I feel like I have this second chance at life right now. Just because you're back in it.”
We kissed, and my wet cheeks rubbed against his. We were both half laughing, half serious. This was a kiss we would both remember.
“I actually said I love you in the letter I wrote. The one you never got.”
His eyes grew sad again. “You did?” He shook his head and collapsed on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate that I never saw it. I hate thinking that you said that and you never got a response from me.” Rolling onto his side, he looked at me with all earnestness. “If I'd seen that, I would've written you back. I would've called you. I would've flown to see you or bought you a plane ticket. I want you to know that.”
Somehow, that wasn't what I wanted to hear, even though at the time, I would've done anything for those things to have happened. “But you didn't see it. And those things didn't happen. And I can't live with any more regrets. So let's just not talk about it anymore.” I had too many regrets living in my heart already.
He kissed me tenderly. “We have today and I love you. That's all that matters.”
“We have tomorrow and the day after that, too.”
“If we're lucky, yes.”
I settled my head against his chest and he pulled me closer. “I love you, Eamon. That never went away.”
And I meant it. Every syllable.
Chapter Twelve
I wasn't doing a particularly good job at achieving a work-Eamon balance. In fact, I was failing spectacularly.
“I really, really, really have to go into work today. I'll get fired if I don't. It's been three days. I'm sure I have a million things to catch up on.” I shuffled backwards across the floor of my bedroom wearing only my underwear, headed for the closet to grab some clothes.
Eamon was in hot pursuit wearing only his boxers, which hung super low on his hips. “I know. You have things to do. So do I.”
I stepped into my gray wool trousers and zipped them up, then pulled a black silk blouse from its hanger. “That's right. You need to get some writing done. This will be a good thing for both of us.” I only got one button done before Eamon was standing right in front of me, drawing a finger down my chest and popping it out of its hole. “Hey…” My voice faded as he stole a kiss, pressing his bare belly against mine. Trying to dress yourself while a super hot rock star, one who could start a fire with his voice, was kissing you, was exactly as difficult as it sounded.
“Sorry. I'm distracting you.”
“Honestly, you're just feeding my ego right now, which under normal circumstances would be great, but my new boss is an asshole and I don't want to piss him off any more than I probably already have.”
A bit dejected, he puttered over to the chair and grabbed his jeans. “I understand.”
I managed to get my blouse buttoned and even tucked it in. “I’ll be home by six. I promise.” I grabbed my black pumps from the bottom of the closet and worked my feet into them. “The extra key is on the kitchen counter in case you decide to go out. There's a ton of food in the fridge.”
“I’m a big boy. I can figure it out. Just go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back.”
I smiled and kissed him one more time. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He swatted me on the ass as I walked out of the room.
I made the subway with zero seconds to spare, having to stand for the ride to my office, which was always a challenge in heels. Part of me almost wished Eamon had been successful at keeping me home, which said a lot considering how much I loved my job. Perhaps it was just the Miles effect—everything had been great until he arrived.
As expected, I had about five million emails waiting for me, and people lining up at my office door almost as soon as I got in.
“We missed you, Katherine. What were you up to?” Maria from the marketing team wanted me to troubleshoot the typography for ads for a new meal delivery company.
“I have an old friend in town and we haven't seen each other in a long time. It just seemed like a good idea to spend some quality time together.”
“Sounds fun. The office doesn't run the same without you though. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you so much. I really, truly appreciate it.”
She smiled. “I wouldn't say it if it wasn't the truth. Thanks for your help on this.”
I craned my neck to see if anyone else was lurking at my doorstep, but I'd worked through the queue, so I returned to the endless job of answering email.
A few minutes later, another knock came at my door, I looked up and my stomach sank. “Hello, Miles. How are you today?”
He waltzed into my office and sat in the chair opposite my desk. Sure, being the boss affords you certain privileges, but it would've been nice if he’d asked if he could have a seat. “I see that you're back. You'll forgive me for not quite knowing the landscape of the office yet, but is it a habit of yours to miss three days of work with no notice?”
“Actually, aside from when I had food poisoning two years ago, I've missed exactly zero days of work since I've been here.”
He nodded, but in no way seemed satisfied. “I see.” He crossed his giraffe-ish legs, bright striped socks peeking out between the hem of his pants and his walnut brown wingtips. How clever of him to pair a rainbow with his dull gray suit.
“You can ask Summer. She'll tell you.” I hated that I sounded like a teenager making excuses, but this was what he was bringing out in me—the worst.
“I’ll have a look at your file as soon as I leave.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Siri, remind me to check Katherine Fuller's personnel file in an hour.”
I sat there listening to the automated voice repeat his request back to him. Miles was a certifiable jerk. At least he'd given me permission to think that of him.
“Summer adores you, you know,” he went on. “She's convinced that you are one of the most crucial people on the team.”
He was just waiting for me to ask what he thought of me, which I already knew, so I wasn't about to take the bait. Still, I was trembling with a mix of fear and anger I couldn't quite wrap my head around. “Summer is the best boss anyone could ever want.”
“Yes. Well, now that I've been here a good month or so, I think we're going to do some restructuring.”
“What does that mean?”
“Shifting of personnel. A few changes.”
From out in the hall, came the sound of a woman squealing. Oh my God. Then another. Oh my God. And another. It's you.
“What in bloody hell is going on out there?” Miles shot out of his seat and bolted into the hall.
I followed him to the door, but hung back, clutching my phone. If someone was out there with a gun, somebody was going to need to call 911. A steady stream of my coworkers were filing out into the central space that led to reception. The chatter was non-stop, the volume building. At that point, it was clear that whatever was going on, no one was getting shot, so I ventured out to see for myself.
The walkway was packed with people now, everyone shuffling forward. Phillip from accounting asked, “Who is it?”
One of the college interns answered, “I don't know. Some old guy wearing sunglasses.”
The previous squealing was still going on, there was only more of it, now accompanied by the flash of camera phones. I squeezed past Phillip and that's when I saw what was going on. Eamon was here, signing autographs and posing for photos. Several of my female coworkers were practically hanging on him, taking selfies.
“Everyone, back to your desks!” Miles shouted above the din.
Nobody listened.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you have business here?” Miles asked Eamon.
Eamon propped his sunglasses up on his forehead and there was an audible gasp from the women working reception. “I’m here to see Katherine.”
Miles whipped around and narrowed his beady eyes on me. “Ms. Fuller, it seems you have a guest.”
I slinked ahead, giving Miles a wide berth and walking around several people to get directly to Eamon. “Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were writing.”
He took my hand and smiled, then pressed a kiss to my cheek, which prompted more gasping from the peanut gallery. You'd have thought he was Elvis on the Ed Sullivan show. I wasn't exactly upset about it. I was aware of how spectacular a prize he was. “I thought I'd take you to lunch.”
I glanced up at the clock above reception. It was already past one. Lunch was a reasonable request. “Oh. Okay. Sure.” The crowd had dissipated, but I could feel Miles's looming presence behind me.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Eamon reached past me and held out his hand. “Hello there. Eamon MacWard. You must be Miles.” Eamon slyly slid me a wink. He had been paying attention all those times I'd bitched about Miles.
Miles obliged the handshake, but his spine was stiff as a board. “I’m Mr. Ashby. You'll have to excuse me if I don't know why our staff is so enamored of you.”
“Ah, well, I'm a musician.”
“Unless you play Chopin, I'm afraid I've never heard of you.” Miles chuckled dismissively and I truly wanted to punch him.
“Eamon just finished a sold-out U.S. Tour.” I had to stick up for my guy.
“The New York show was amazing.” Janice from HR chimed in as she walked past, stealing a head-to-toe eyeful of Eamon.
Miles huffed. “Ms. Fuller, I wasn't aware you had a so-called famous husband.”
“I don’t.” I was then stuck with the task of slapping a label on Eamon when we'd discussed nothing of the sort. “Eamon is my…” I winced, but took the leap anyway. “Boyfriend.”
The smile on his face was my reward for bravery. “That's right. Old flames. Reunited.”
“I see. Well, Ms. Fuller, I'm sure you're aware that this is a place of business and not social hour. Spouses are welcome for a moment or two if they are not a disruption. Otherwise, this is highly unusual.”
It took every ounce of self-control I had not to stomp on Miles's wingtips and tell him he was an asshole. “I’m sorry.”
“Don't let it happen again." He straightened his tie. “Mr. MacWard. Good day.” With that, he stalked off.
I stepped closer to Eamon. “I’m so sorry.”
“Weren’t kidding when you said he was a jerk.”
“He’s such a pain in the butt,” I whispered. “Everyone else who works here is so nice.”
“So? Lunch? You game?”
I hesitated, knowing Miles would use any excuse right now to rake me over the coals. Still, I wasn't sure I cared. “Yes. I'd love it. Come to my office and I'll grab my purse and coat.”
Eamon followed me to my modest work abode. “This is where the magic happens?” He gestured to the stacks of files on my desk, mostly projects that needed a final pass from me before they moved forward. “Looks like you have a lot of magic to do.”
Miles strolled by and cleared his throat.
“The fucking gall of that guy…” I muttered under my breath as I put on my coat.
“Got the impression that boyfriends and girlfriends and loved ones in general are frowned upon around here.”
“He just doesn't like me.”
Eamon's eyebrows drew together. “How is that possible?”
“Not everyone likes me.”
He pressed a soft kiss against my lips. “I adore you. That's got to count for more than whatever that British prick thinks.”
I closed my eyes and drew in his beguiling smell. “I’d much rather have you. That's for sure.”
“It’s an argument for marriage, y’know. Your jerky boss won't be able to give you such a hard time.”
Just like that, Eamon was moving too fast for me. “You don’t really mean that.”
“Maybe I do.”
“You just got back. We're just starting to get to know each other again.”
He took my hand. “Yeah. You're right. Speaking of which, Rachel is bringing Fiona to the city in a few days. I already told her we'd meet them.”
The Eamon train was officially a runaway now. He had a toe in every square inch of my life. It mostly made me happy, but these were all big steps forward, when for me even the tiny ones were scary.
Chapter Thirteen
A few days later, Eamon and I walked to the park in my neighborhood to meet up with Rachel and Fiona. It felt a bit as if I was marching toward my fate. I'd never been good at confronting the past. Now I was going to meet Eamon's. The leaves rustled in the cool November wind, some
letting go of the branches that had been their home for months and fluttering to the ground.
“Last chance to tell me what happened between you and Rachel.” I didn't want to be so basic with the question, but we were closing in on the park and I wanted to know what we were walking into. I’d already asked him about it several times since he told me they were coming to town, and he’d dodged the topic at every turn.
Eamon cleared his throat and distanced himself from me—it was only inches, but it felt like a chasm. “It's complicated. And not terribly fun to talk about.”
I slipped my hand under his biceps and snugged him closer. I wasn't about to let him get away. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
“I usually write a song if I need to do that.”
“Humor me. Now. Before we get to the park.”
He sucked in a deep breath and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. It was chilly, but the way he had his shoulders up around his ears made it seem like we were out here in the depths of winter. “I was a terrible husband. That's all you need to know.”
“That's it?”
“I don't want to talk about it, okay? It's the biggest failure of my life.” He came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and grabbed my hand. “If I have any chance of getting you to think about us as something long-term, I’m not helping my case by telling you how badly I fucked up the first time.”
“It only makes you human to fail. And it takes two people to end a marriage. There's no way it was all you.”
“Believe me, I was no help. No help at all.” He pulled back the sleeve of his coat and looked at his watch. “Come on. I don't want to be late.”
When we came up on the tall iron fencing surrounding the park, the sounds of children playing rang out between the other sounds of the city—impatient taxi drivers laying on the horn while unwitting pedestrians passed too close to cars and set off the alarms. A boy chased a ball past the park entrance. His mother yelled after him. That was when I saw Rachel. She was sitting on a bench, but the instant she looked up and spotted Eamon, a flicker of recognition crossed her face that was impossible to miss. She was still in love with him. I could see it.
