Head Over Feels

“Not Rockefeller rich.”

Fanning herself, she jokes, “I’m going to need a second to process this new information. Do Jackson and Cade know?”

“I’ve never given them my financials, but Jackson St. James isn’t far off. His last name’s a staple in this city. I’m only sharing this information with you.”

“You’re telling me because you have the money to start the nonprofit? Just lying around?”

“I’ve never rolled in a pile of money exactly, but I could, so yes. I have my trust funds, but I’ve also made a lot of money in the stock market.” Now everything’s just pouring out, financial vomiting is probably not something I should make a habit of, but for her—anything. “My career. Basically, everything I touch turns to gold.” I smirk because I’m not called the golden boy for nothing.

Pursing her lips, she then laughs. “Your humility is something I’ve always admired about you.”

That’s my opening. I move in and take hold of her hips. “My girl’s got jokes.” I kiss her neck, nuzzling against her soft skin until I score a mewl from her.

“Boy, do I.” She cracks up. “I started as an opening act and recently moved into headlining.”

“You’ll always be my shining star.”

I try to kiss her, but her hands are on my chest, and she says, “Before we get sidetracked, because we often do, you want to use your money to not only make my dream come true but also to change countless lives for the better?”

“Yes. Now can we kiss?”

“No, and for the record . . .” Tealey loves using my words against me. She has the courtesy of kissing me, at least. “You think it’s your hands, but I know it’s your heart that’s pure gold. That’s why I love you, Rad.”

Who’s charming whom? She might just be winning. “I love you, too.”

I’m still fairly new to this coupling thing, but I feel like I caught on quickly. It’s never been about time for us. If that were the case, I would have given up eight years ago. But with the mileage of our friendship and the journey of dating, I don’t want to waste any more time.

Lowering her head to her shoulder, she cradles my head, and whispers, “Did you always know we were meant to be?”

Inhaling her scent that’s become like air to me, I savor these times when I can just be me. With her, that’s who I am. The better man. “I always knew you were the one. I just hoped that one day you’d see me as more than just friends.”

“I always saw you as more, my love. I just thought we were an impossibility. You proved me wrong.” A sweet kiss lands on my cheek.

“But now?” I ask timidly.

“I don’t bet the odds anymore, gambling man. When it comes to you, I’m not leaving anything to chance. Why would I? You’re more than I could have ever asked for.”

That’s all I ever need to be—hers. “If you want me naked, all you have to do is ask.”

“I want you naked, Counselor.”

Lifting her into my arms, I walk toward the door. “Your wish is my command.”

* * *

Call me a genie because I made all her wishes come true last night. Sexually speaking. I’m hoping she grants my wish this morning.

I have her coffee down to a science. One-third half and half, two sugar-in-the-raw cubes, and a heavy splash of coffee.

“What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?” Tealey’s arms wrap around me from behind. I like when she hugs me like I’m her lifeline.

Spinning in her arms, I embrace her. “I had some stuff on my mind, so I went for a run to clear my head.”

Stroking my hair back from my forehead, she kisses my lips, closing her eyes and lingering. “Did it help?”

“No, only you can help me.”

“At your service.” Her eyes flick to the mug, her expression lighter. “Is that a new mug?”

“It is.”

“You bought me a gift?” Picking it up with care, she reads the front. “I love you a latte. Awww. That is so sweet, Rad. Thank you. I absolutely love it.” She kisses me again and then takes a sip. “Sorry, I was distracted by the cuteness of this mug.” Waving her arm, she says, “Okay, back to you. What’s going on that you needed to clear your head?”

“It’s actually related to the mugs.” For effect and added drama to this buildup, I open the cabinet door.

“How so?” She glances at the collection and then gives me puppy eyes.

“I used to be content with plain white mugs.” Pointing to the mostly barren left side of the cabinet, I say, “How did I live a life so—”

“Boring.”

I laugh. “I was going to say orderly.”

“Orderly. Boring.” She shrugs and then takes another sip. “Same thing. I mean, look at the adorable drawing of the face on this illustration on the front of my mug.”