“To design the future effectively, you must first let go of your past.”—Charles J. Givens
“No! Fix it—don’t list it, you idiot! Ah, what a waste of good money,” she groaned through a mouthful of popcorn.
HGTV was so damn stressful.
She grabbed her wine, taking a few sips, and continued yelling at the stupid couple who was about to get into more debt for no reason other than they liked new.
The doorbell rang.
She stilled. Who could that be? She wasn’t up for company tonight. After spending the day at the house finishing up details, she couldn’t get over the present Brady had sent her. A new roof. So much better than anything she could’ve imagined. The man got her.
He just couldn’t be with her.
She’d gotten so damn depressed she decided to order take-out, get in her old terrycloth pink Victoria’s Secret robe with matching fuzzy slippers, and have a TV night. She’d eaten four slices of pizza, half a bag of potato chips, three chocolate chip cookies, and was about to demolish an entire bucket of popcorn. Her hair was stuck up in a Pebbles ponytail, her face was swollen from crying, and her mouth felt slick with grease.
Oh, no way in hell was she opening that door.
The bell rang again. Then again. Shoving the bucket off her lap, she marched over and peered through the slot.
Brady peered right back.
She jumped, slamming her palms over her mouth to muffle her cry. What was he doing here? The roof was his good-bye present, his final love letter; she knew it as well as he. Why would he go on torturing her with his presence? She was already dreading dealing with working with him day after day, but she’d grit her teeth and do it. But here, at her apartment, where they’d spent hours ripping off each other’s clothes and playing sexy, naked, dirty games?
No.
He began to pound. “Charlotte, I know you’re in there. I saw your eye. Open the door. I need to say something to you.”
She looked down and groaned. “I can’t. Now isn’t a good time. Come back tomorrow.”
His low laugh echoed through the door. “No, it has to be now. Right now.”
“I was going to thank you for the roof.”
“It’s not about the roof. Open the door, now, or I swear, you’re going to regret it.”
“You can’t talk to me like that! Demanding I open the door to my house after we broke up and you gifted me a roof? Who do you think you are? Go away.”
“Open the door or I’ll break it down.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Hell, yes, I would, and then your punishment will be worse when I spank your ass.”
Her head spun with arousal and a blood-pumping anger. “You bastard! How dare you bring up sacred things we shared when we’re not together anymore!” She turned the lock and flung open the door, glaring. “I don’t know what games you’re playing but I don’t like them and I’m not the type of woman to let you walk all over her with a thank you so you better—oh!”
He jerked her forward and crushed his mouth to hers.
Her toes curled and her body sighed with bliss as his tongue dove deep to gather her taste, while he hitched her high up against his body to keep her still. She didn’t fight, just wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back with all her own demands.
A long time later, he raised his head. “Pizza and popcorn?”
“I’m depressed.”
He kicked the door shut and pressed a thumb over her lips. His dark eyes seethed with a naked hunger and something else. Something so wonderful she was terrified to hope. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can’t stay away from you any longer. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
Her lips trembled. “Oh, God, don’t. ’Cause I can’t send you away again. Please, go. Go and find someone who will make you happy, Brady. You deserve it.”
“I do. And the only woman who will make me happy is you.”
Misery shuddered through her. “I’m not good for you. Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed. I realized I was being an asshole. I found the woman who owns my soul and I sent her away. But I figured it out, and I’m not leaving again. I love you.”
“What about marriage and kids and your family?”
“I spoke with my parents. I was wrong, Charlotte. I cast them in a certain light and believed sticking to some roles would make my marriage perfect. The only thing that makes a marriage perfect is who you’re with, and all I want is you. I want the woman who eats and breathes renovating houses and who’s so cheap she makes cabinets out of windows. I want the woman who makes me laugh, makes me mad, and whose body I crave on a constant basis. That’s you. And I don’t give a crap about when or if we’ll get married, or when and if we’ll have kids. It can be two years, five years, or ten—I just want you for every single one of them.”
The words were too much. The words were everything. But it wasn’t just the words that made her realize what had changed. It was the open love and happiness carved in his features, the truth glinting in the depth of his sooty eyes. Somehow, some way, this man had fallen in love with her and wasn’t going to let her go.
She jumped up, wrapping her limbs around him and kissing him. Her fingers twisted in his hair and she moaned with need as he walked her to the couch and they collapsed onto the cushions, still kissing.
“I love you and missed you and oh, God, you feel so good.”
“You too,” he growled, nipping at her neck.
“I look terrible,” she moaned in between breaths.
“You look stunning. Even better once I get these clothes off.”
She laughed as he tugged them off, and then they were naked and falling into each other like a beautiful poem where every word and stanza fit into the whole to achieve perfection. As he filled her completely, she cried his name. As she fell apart, he caught her. And as they lay sated in each other’s arms, Charlie smiled. The future looked bright.
On their terms.