Page 58 of Trust Me With Forever

“I’m sure once you’re in bed, you’ll be fine.”

An image of the pair of us in bed, naked and cuddling, flashed into my mind.

But I barely had time to think of how nice that would be, or if Rafe only had one bed or not in his home, before we were in the car and heading toward town.

Within minutes, I leaned against Rafe’s side and surprisingly fell asleep, dreaming of him whisking me around Europe, showing me off as his wife, and loving me for real.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rafe

Giles:I’m doing my best to distract the paparazzi this morning. But you might want to leave through the back garden.

Me:I thought they’d give up now that I’m no longer playing football.

Giles:You’ve sold a lot of papers over the years, Rafe. They’ll always want news and gossip. Use the back exit.

Me:Fine. As long as everything is ready for later today?

Giles:It was tricky, but yes. Private shopping times, the pitch to yourself, and the last surprise I’m nearly done with. I’ll update you ASAP.

Me:Once this dies down, you can retire, I promise.

Giles:So you said. Don’t worry about it. My little place in Spain needs some upgrades. Your bonus will pay for them.

Me:Just have your contacts in the US keep digging for me and I’ll pay for all your remodeling.

Giles:Done! (And I would’ve done it without the bonus.)

Me:I know. But after putting up with my bullshit all these years, you deserve it.

The next morning, after finalizing a few things with my soon-to-retire assistant in the UK, I fiddled with the fruit plate, yogurt, and granola spread I’d laid out and waited for Abby to wake up. Would she still be the teasing, lighter version from the night before? Or, would she retreat back behind the wall of formality?

Hearing her laugh and tease me again had nearly made my heart burst. And when she’d fallen asleep against me in the car on the ride home from the airport and snuggled into my side? I’d treasured every moment, hating that I’d had to wake her up once we got to my townhouse. I wish I could’ve carried her, but my knee might’ve given out, and I wasn’t going to risk dropping her.

I’d given Abby my room, and I’d slept in my home office. My UK place only had two bedrooms, and I’d never needed a guest one before. And given how this was the UK and not the US, everything was smaller—the home, the rooms, and even the couch. So I’d opted to sleep on the floor, and my neck was far from happy.

Especially when all I’d wanted to do was to curl up behind Abby, hold her close, and sleep with her in my arms.

Then I remembered West’s words from our conversation in my office:“You have to find the right balance of pushing her and giving her space. She’s stubborn—hell, we all are—but she’ll dig in more than most if she’s trying to protect herself.”

As I tried to think of how to accomplish that balance, Abby entered the kitchen wearing her tiny shorts. I stared at her legs as she rubbed her eyes. “Morning. I think.”

My gaze shot to hers again. “Yes, it’s nearly ten. If you didn’t wake up soon on your own, I would’ve done it. Because if you want to beat jet lag, you need to force yourself to follow the new schedule as quickly as possible.”

“I know. Somehow, the eight-hour difference is easier than the three hours when flying across the US.”

Her gaze roamed the kitchen, which was small, with an L-shaped counter and a small area for a two-person table.

Abby frowned. “Is that a washing machine in your kitchen?”

“Yes. That’s pretty normal here, to be honest, to have one in the kitchen.”

“I guess it’d be nice to toss in some laundry while making dinner. But it’s so tiny!”

I chuckled, went to the espresso machine, and turned it on. “Things here are usually on a smaller scale, which makes sense when you consider how much less land there is in the UK compared to the US.”

“True.” She spotted the breakfast spread. “Is that a flower made out of fruit?”

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