Page 11 of Selfish Desires

“We'll have to share a bed, though. I never exactly turned my guest bedroom into much of a bedroom. It's more like a storage unit.” I smirked. Blair's eyes danced around my house, taking in the new place I called home. “This place is fantastic. Did you decorate it?”

“I did.” I grinned proudly.

“It looks like you,” she said, her gaze returning to rest on me. “Comfortable, cozy, a little eclectic.”

I couldn't help but chuckle. “Is that how you see me?”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “Isn't that how you see yourself?”

Before answering, my eyes darted to the double-sided, white brick fireplace I rarely lit and the wide-planked beachwood floors. The walls were a combination of denim wallpaper and exposed red brick accent walls. The white kitchen cabinets accentuated the royal blue island with Carrera white marble countertops. Nothing in this house matched, but it somehow fell into place.

Touché. “Guess you're right.” My eyes shifted to the untouched cake, and I wanted to eat a piece badly, but I was packed from birthday cake number one.

“We can save the cake for tomorrow.” Blair smiled over the rim of her cup.

“How did you know?” I matched her smile.

“Because I know you. You would be devouring the cake by now if you weren't full. I guess you had a big birthday dinner without me,” Blair added, winking and teasing me.

“I didn't have any dinner.” I rolled my eyes. “Stephen brought a cake over to work after we closed.”

“Stephen? As in the Stephen who loves you?” Blair's eyes popped, and she wiggled her eyebrows.

“He does not love me. And I do not feel anything for him.” And I wasn't kidding, either.

Instead of challenging me, a wave of contagious yawns gripped Blair's face before spilling onto mine. We found each other through bleary eyes, and it was just about midnight, the official end of my birthday.

“Tired?” I asked the obvious.

Blair's yawn broke into a chuckle. “Not at all.”

“Uh-huh.” I stood, placing the cake on the middle shelf of the fridge, and closed the door, signaling Blair to follow. “I hope you like red flannel PJs because that's all I have here.”

“Anything cozy I love.” Blair sneaked behind me before throwing her arms around my shoulders. “I'm so happy I'm here.”

“Me too, babe. But let's get some sleep, please? It is my birthday. You can't say no to me.”

“Fine, fine. To be continued tomorrow.”

We made our way up the creaky wooden stairs, each step echoing the house's history. I led Blair to my bedroom—a large, airy room with an overgrown fern in the corner and a circle of chairs near the fireplace. The walls were painted a soothing seafoam green, and the sheer white curtains floated gently in the cool night breeze.

“Shit, it's freezing in here.” Blair threw her arms around her chest. “You shouldn't keep the window open when you're not home. It's not safe.”

“Okay, officer. And you'll see, this fresh air knocks you out in seconds.” I pointed to the pitch-black earth beyond the window.

I rummaged through my closet, pulling out two matching red flannel PJs. Handing one to Blair, she fanned out the clothes. “Twins!”

“You're telling me.” She studied the nighttime attire before nodding her approval.

After changing into our PJs, we climbed onto the bed under the heavy duvet. Blair immediately curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder.

“This feels too romantic.” I stared at the still white ceiling fan.

“Sorry,” said Blair. “I just still can't believe I'm here with you.” She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling in the dim, silvery moonlight seeping through the window.

“I know. Me too.” I threw a soft smile, patting her forearm. “Let's get some sleep. I'll show you around Newport tomorrow. You're going to love it.”

“Sounds great.” Blair shifted away, taking her warmth, and sank into the marshmallow pillows. “Goodnight, birthday girl.”

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