CHAPTER 27
Walsh
I pull my meal out of the microwave—some pre-packaged frozen lasagna my housekeeper keeps stocked for late-night hunger emergencies—as I talk to Micah on the cell phone pressed between my ear and shoulder. He returned to San Francisco today. Some steam escapes out of the corner of container and catches me on my thumb.
“Ouch, fuck,” I yell as I drop the thing on the counter and bobble the phone. I mutter, “Hang on.”
I put the phone on the counter, hit the speaker phone button, and say, “Can you hear me okay?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You were telling me how you left it off with Jorie.”
Indeed, I was. I called Micah about the trip I just got back from about four hours ago. I came straight home and had been catching up on some work at my kitchen table. It’s only when I looked at the clock and saw it was almost ten did I realize I hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner and I was suddenly starved.
Now it’s a microwave meal and probably some Sons of Anarchy to cap my evening off. Besides, it will help keep my mind off Jorie.
“We talked,” I tell Micah. I absolutely don’t tell him about fucking her against the door. “And it was good, I think. She’s confused, and there’s Vince, of course.”
“She’ll choose you,” Micah says confidently.
“I want her to choose what’s best,” I return as I peel the plastic cover off the lasagna. “I hope to fuck that’s me, but it has to be what’s best for her.”
“You’re best,” Micah says again.
“Just two weeks ago, you were not keen on this idea,” I remind him.
“And you punched me hard and knocked some sense into me,” he says with a laugh, and I can’t help but join him. It’s like all the bad shit was quickly melting away between us.
“I talked to her today,” Micah says. “She called me after she talked to you.”
“What did she say?” I ask with great interest. Especially if it eases my mind a bit.
“That’s between me and her, but I was vocal that I thought you were the real deal.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter. “I’ve been telling her the same thing.”
“There is an issue though that’s bothering her,” Micah says, and my heart drops. How can there be an issue? I thought I covered everything I knew was important to her.
“Come on, man,” I say with a groan. “Don’t do this to me.”
“That’s for her to bring it up, because maybe it’s ultimately not an issue for her. But I told her she had to talk about it to you.”
A surge of irritation sweeps through me, and I snap, “Well, that could be days—even weeks—Micah. What am I supposed to do until then? Steal my secretary’s Xanax from her desk drawer?”
Just then, my elevator doors hiss open and I blink my eyes.
Jorie is standing there.
She’s got on a pair of faded jeans, a fitted t-shirt, and flip-flops. Over one shoulder is her purse, and her other hand has a rolling suitcase.
“Your sister’s here. Gotta go,” I lean down to mutter into the speaker, and I disconnect Micah.
When I look back up at her, she’s moved out of the elevator but hasn’t come in any further. I stay behind the kitchen island facing her, afraid if I blink, she’ll only be an apparition.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, completely befuddled to see her. Not that I’m not fucking over the moon about it, but by my accounts, she should be deep in conversation with Vince about now.
“It’s you,” she murmurs, and my heart comes to a stuttering halt. “It’s only ever going to be you.”
Inside, I’m doing a fist pump but on the outside, I’m rounding the kitchen island with long strides. I practically knock her over when I crash into her, hands in that beautiful hair and my mouth fusing to hers. Jorie drops her purse, and I vaguely hear her suitcase fall over. Her arms wrap tight around me. What I’m getting from her is that she’s never letting me go.
Thank fuck.
Finally, I pull my mouth of hers, but I keep my face close so I can look at her in wonder. “How? Why?”
She opens her mouth, but I kiss her again instead. When I pull back, I mutter as I take her by the hand. “No, wait… don’t tell me. I have something else to do first.”
I pull her toward the kitchen, and Jorie laughs. “Figured it would take you ten seconds to drag me off to bed.”
I grin but come to a halt by the kitchen table, pushing her down into a chair. “Not taking you to bed yet.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t move,” is all I say.
She watches me in silence as I bustle around the kitchen. First, I pull out a plate, cutlery, and a wineglass. I set them on the table in front of her. I grab wine from the fridge, pour her a glass. Sneaking a glance at her, I can see amused curiosity on her face.
Lastly, I take my microwaved lasagna that’s a little burned on the edges, and I turn it over to dump it on the plate.
Jorie snickers.
“Just a few more things,” I tell her as I search through my cabinets and finally find a pair candlestick holders with candles in there. I think they were Renee’s, but I sure as fuck know I’ve never used them. I forage through a drawer and find matches.
I set the candles on the table and light them.
“I’m not hungry, Walsh,” she says with a laugh.
“Be quiet,” I chastise her with a mock glare. “I need one more thing… don’t move.”
I run into the hallway that leads off the kitchen, to my duffle bag on the bed, and dig my hand down inside. I’d carried this with me to Los Angeles, but I never brought it out.
It wasn’t the right time then.
I jog back into the kitchen and slide to a halt right beside Jorie’s chair. She looks up at me with raised eyebrows, the ring box securely hidden in my hand.
“What’s all this?” she asks.
“Well,” I say dramatically as I get down on one knee in front of her. At my obvious movement, a hand comes up to cover her mouth in surprise. “Remember in Los Angeles earlier today, I told you I wanted you to be my wife, and I envisioned us at a romantic restaurant when I proposed on bended knee? I can’t conjure that up right now, and I don’t want to wait another fucking second. I don’t know how you came to the decision you did, but you’re here and I’m asking you to marry me right now.”
Jorie gasps as I open my hand to present the black velvet box to her.
She stares at it with wide eyes, so I go ahead and open it.
Another gasp and her eyes go even more wide. I outdid myself yesterday when I picked this out before I went to the airport to fly to L.A. It’s a Harry Winston, four-carat behemoth sapphire in a classic emerald cut. It’s flanked by trilliant diamonds on the side, each a full carat, set in white gold.
“Holy shit, Walsh,” she wheezes as she looks from the ring to me. “You’re totally compensating.”
I smirk at her and pull the ring out. Taking her left hand, I slide it on the finger that will proclaim that this woman is off the market.
She stares at it in wonder and says, “You know I’m still married, right?”
“Semantics,” I say dismissively, but we are going to work on that divorce thing as soon as possible.
Sliding her gaze back up to me she whispers, “Do you want your answer?”
I smile at her, lean in to kiss her mouth. “I had my answer the minute you walked into my home with your suitcase. But I’d love to hear it from that gorgeous mouth.”
“It’s yes,” she says with a little bit of an excited squeal, and it’s music to my ears.
I kiss her again hard, then I’m lifting her from the chair. She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms tight around my neck, and she doesn’t move her lips from mine until I toss her down on my bed.
“I take it by the change of clothes when I saw you after lunch, you took a shower?” I ask as I peel her jeans and panties down her legs. She’s working on tearing her t-shirt off.
“Yeah, why?” she returns breathlessly as she comes to her knees and helps me with my clothes as I stand at the edge of the bed.
She leans in, runs her tongue over one of my nipples after my shirt comes off, and I hiss from the touch. My hands shoot out, take her face, and I pull her up closer to me. “I was hoping you hadn’t showered. I wanted to see my cum dried white on the inside of your thighs.”
“So freaking dirty.” She laughs, and I kiss her hard as she works at my belt.
When my pants are off, our naked bodies hit the bed and we do nothing but kiss, fondle, and touch hidden places. None of it with the goal to get each other off, but merely to build each other up.
Finally, when Jorie says, “I need you now, Walsh,” I surge up her body and slide into her heat.
Fucking perfect.
♦
Much later, when we’ve had our immediate fill, I sit on the bed with my back against the headboard. Jorie straddles my lap as she studies the ring on her finger. My hands slide up and down her thighs lazily. I’m mellow, sated, and fucking in love with my soon-to-be wife.
Soon as the divorce papers are finalized for her and Vince, that is.
“When did you get this?” she asks curiously.
“Stopped on the way to the airport yesterday,” I tell her. “I had every intention of proposing to you there. Almost whipped it out after I fucked you, but that didn’t seem very romantic. But then after we talked at the hotel, I knew it wasn’t the right time. You didn’t need that pressure on you.”
Jorie brings her gaze from the ring to me and places her hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to wait for me to make a choice.”
“You didn’t make me wait long,” I say dryly, but with gratitude. I was expecting a few days at least. “Which, by the way, what happened after you left the hotel?”
“I stopped at a local park, and did some thinking. I called Micah. Then I went home and I was surprised to find Vince there. He had taken the afternoon off and wanted to be there when I got home so we could go ahead and talk. He didn’t want it to drag out.”
“And the talk went well?” I ask tentatively, not wanting to get all up in her business, but more curious than ever as to how she came to her decision.
“Vince was the one who talked me into coming here tonight,” she tells me, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Vince?”
She nods. “I told him all about our history together growing up. That night in the hotel bathroom. How you made me feel about myself as a woman after I’d been brought so low. I told him how crushed I was when you walked away from me, and well… he just could see it clear as day where I probably couldn’t. I told him I needed some time to think, but he just came right back at me and told me it was clear I didn’t. He told me I was meant to be with you and that I needed to not keep you waiting.”
“Jesus,” I breathe out in astonishment. I owe this fucking dude big time. Maybe I’ll invite him to our wedding. But I don’t say any of those things, because I want to be respectful. “Is he okay?”
Jorie’s eyes get a light sheen of sadness, but she nods. “He will be.”
“And just like that, you accepted his word that I was right for you?” I ask, because nothing Jorie’s said so far tells me that she knows that deep in her heart. She’s only said yes to my proposal.
“What did I say when I stepped out of the elevator?” she asks me.
My mind blanks. I try to remember, but I was so fucking overwhelmed at seeing her there, I can’t for the life of me remember just now.
“I told you, Walsh,” she says softly, leaning in to brush her lips against mine. “I said it was you. It was only ever you.”
“Now it’s only ever us,” I tell her.
“Vince said he’d file for divorce soon,” she says, and that takes a weight off me. “It can be finalized six months after that.”
“So we should plan for a wedding in maybe seven months, then?” I ask with a grin.
“If you want,” she says quietly. “But I don’t want anything big. We can go to a chapel here or something.”
“We are not fucking getting married by Elvis,” I mutter. “Maybe a destination wedding?”
“Can Micah come?” she asks.
“I suppose,” I hedge, as if I’m still pissed at her brother, but frankly… Jorie on my lap wearing my ring? I can’t be pissed about anything.
“I love you,” she says softly and then leans her entire torso against mine, so I can wrap her up in a hug. She lays her head on my shoulder, tightens her arms around my neck. I squeeze her close to me and tell her, “I love you too, Jorie. Always have.”
We stay that way, pressed into one another as we cherish the fact we are starting a new life as of right now.
But then I’m a dude, and did I mention I’ve been two weeks without this woman, so I ask her, “Any way I could possibly get a hand job with that ring hand? I’d like to see that puppy moving up and down my cock.”
Jorie bursts out laughing as she leans back to look at me. “You make me so happy, Walsh.”
“Going to make you happier each day,” I promise.
“Damn right you are,” she quips as she moves off my lap and takes my dick in her hand.
The sapphire looks stunning as the starts to stroke me up and down.