Page 49 of We're One

“We’ve agreed no talking about the future,” I remind him, but I’m wondering now why I put this rule in place.

“I’m playing by your rules, but know we can have it all,” he says, his tongue doing delicious things to my collarbone. I’m losing all ability to think with his lips on me.

“We need more time before we decide anything.” I don’t know why we need more time as this feels like what I’ve always wanted. But the second I tell myself this is it, there will be no turning back. I’m scared to take that final leap.

“I’ll give you more time, Sia, but just know, you’re mine, and I don’t plan on letting you get away.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he takes my lips with his and stops any argument I might be ready to make.

After a few minutes of kissing, he stands, carrying me through the house to the new bedroom. I love how he holds me like I weigh nothing at all. I love being in his arms. This is where I belong. I can fight it all I want, but it’s useless. I’m his. I might want to say I still have a choice in this, that if we end, it won’t hurt, but I’d be lying.

He goes right through the bedroom, straight into the bathroom, and sets me on the counter, kisses me again, then moves to the tub, and starts the water. I’m giddy as he adds several peach bubble-bath beads. Once the water fills the tub, he comes to me and begins stripping my clothes away.

Once we’re both naked I melt in his arms before we step down into the tub together. He leans against the back, then pulls me into his arms, and I melt. His hands and lips caress every inch of me. The urgency we felt in the beginning is still here, but now we take our time, learn the things that make both of us melt.

We make love in the tub before we climb out, dry off, then climb into bed together and make love again, slow and steady, for hours. I’ll never tire of this man’s touch. I want him always. Before I fall asleep I realize the truth... I’m head-over-heels in love with him, and it’s far more powerful than what I felt nine years ago. This time, it’s forever. Now, I just have to wait and see if forever is what I’ll get.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sia

I’m doing the final touches on the cleanup in Zach’s old room, checking to make sure everything was done correctly. We’re ready for the crew to come in and make this room beautiful. The carpet’s ripped up, the walls are ready to paint, and the new smart blinds have already been hung.

Tomorrow the painters come, the flooring people the day after, then the furniture will be delivered. I always wait to hang items on the walls until the furniture’s in place. Otherwise, I end up not liking the placement. It has to all flow cohesively.

This is the final room in the main house. I can’t resist doing the guest houses. I might’ve put up a tiny fight, but I don’t want to leave the ranch either. I have to do the boutique hotel first, and that will take me about a month, so I’m booked out for a few months. I haven’t stayed this busy since the business began. It’s great. For once, I have a bit of extra money in my bank account and my credit cards are paid off. It’s very freeing. It allows me to be a little choosier on which clients I accept.

Since posting the pictures of this home with the Callahan name on my website, I’m getting more and more people wanting to meet with me. Just as I think I can get out of this city, I get super busy and pulled back in. But, the more I work, the more I’ll make, and then I’ll be able to go home and do what I truly love.

I stop at the window, leaning on the frame and take some deep breaths. I might be coming down with something. I’ve been fighting nausea all week. Today’s the worst. Along with a stomachache, I’m overheated. I refuse to let Zach kiss me right now. He might think he’s invincible, but flu bugs are tiny and they like to jump from person to person.

When I feel a bit steadier I go to the large walk-in closet. The door’s already been removed and a beautiful white one will be installed the same day as the new carpet. All of the doors in the house now match. It’s the first thing people notice when they enter a house so I’m a firm believer in not skimping on doors.

I grab the stepladder and climb up so I can finally see the top shelf of the closet. There was nothing on it when this closet was cleaned out, but this home is old, and there might be leftover things no one has seen in forty years. I’ve seen that before. It’s a bit dusty as I look it over, causing me to almost miss the end corner of an envelope sticking out.

I climb down, move the ladder, and climb back up. I grab the edge of the envelope and tug. It’s stuck. I pry the board a bit, give another tug, and it finally comes out. It’s dusty, and looks like it’s been here for a while. Zach’s name is written on the outside. It’s a thick envelope and I can’t see what’s inside of it. My curiosity is piqued, but this isn’t mine to open. I never snoop in anyone’s home while I’m doing a redesign.

I still have work to do, so I tuck the envelope into my pocket, then finish going over the room. When I’m satisfied everything’s in place, I finally exit the bedroom. It’s been a very busy day. I like it. I’d much rather have too much to do than not enough.

I walk down the hallway to the library where Zach’s working. He wasn’t kidding when he told me he was going to use the library as his office. It’s his favorite room in the house now. When I stay over with him, we sit across from each other in the comfortable chairs with our laptops and wine or coffee next to us. It’s so domestic it makes my heart thump when I stop working and look over to see Zach looking absolutely sexy as hell with his glasses in place as he types away on his computer.

He prefers the chair, but we shifted things around a little to bring in a desk for when he’s busy making calls and needing his computer too. He looks up as soon as I enter, his eyes instantly brightening. He always makes me feel wanted. I keep watching him as he tells me not to leave. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. But he appears highly disappointed every time I go home for the night. Can this last for months, years, or a lifetime? A part of me is starting to believe it can.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says.

“Hi, handsome.” I go over to him and lean down. He tries to kiss me, but I shift his head and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m still not feeling well. No lip to lip,” I tell him for the hundredth time in a few days.

“I don’t care if I get sick. We’ll stay in bed together and get better,” he says with a waggle of his brows.

“As pleasant as that sounds, we both have far too much to do to take days off sick in bed.”

“We took a weekend together and look how well that turned out.”

Yeah, our weekend in Seaville really did turn out well. We’ve been together ever since, and I can’t complain at all. But if we’re taking time off I’d rather it be fun, not because we’re both sick and miserable.

I pull out the envelope. “I found this in the back corner on the top shelf in your old closet,” I say as I hand it over. “Is it something from when you were a kid?”

He looks at the envelope and his smile falls away, his expression instantly changing. He seems sad. This isn’t the reaction I’ve been expecting. He was in that room for many years, spent his youth in it. Why is this envelope upsetting him? Then I realize it might be something from his parents. My heart’s already breaking for him and I have no idea what the envelope is about.

He runs his fingers over the writing. “This looks like Gramps’s writing,” he quietly says. He’s trying to hold his emotions in, but it isn’t easy. I don’t know how I’d handle a letter from a ghost. I’d probably be a blubbering mess.

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