Julian slips from me and disappears from the room into the attached bathroom. I lie there for a moment, enjoying the scent of his spicy cologne, now all over my skin, and I can’t stop smiling. I feel giddy.
When Julian returns, he’s holding a cloth he uses to wipe between my legs. It’s a strange act, not in a bad way, but I’ve never had a man so attentive to do that. Normally, I would race into the bathroom after him.
“Are you okay?” The concern in his eyes shines through as he regards me lying on his bed, naked.
“I am. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been better.” I push onto my elbows and slowly sit up. When I rise, I look up at him and smile because I can’t find words to tell him what this meant. I know this may not end in a happily ever after, but for now, it’s been magical.
“Good,” he says, pressing his lips to mine once more before he turns and heads back into the bathroom. I find my T-shirt and pull it on before padding out of the room to the one I slept in, to find the sweatpants that he gave me to wear.
Once I’m dressed, I hobble into the kitchen to find coffee waiting for me, served by one of the hottest men I’ve ever met.
“I figured since I ruined your morning coffee, you needed one.”
I tip my head to the side to regard him. “I’d hardly call that ruining. That was . . . well, that was something else entirely.”
“I meant what I said,” Julian says suddenly, his expression turning serious. “I don’t know if this will work. I’ve been . . . It’s been a long time.”
“We’re both grownups, both old enough to do this without feeling guilty. It was fun,” I respond, trying to sound lighthearted, but the disappointment gnaws my gut as I fake my smile. “And if you feel that badly about it—”
“No, Nea. That’s not what I meant. I just, I can’t get into a relationship. I’m . . . There’s a lot I’m still working through. My ex-wife—” He stops, shaking his head. “I want you, that’s fucking clear to me, but I can’t, and I won’t hurt you. There’s no way I can put you through that.”
“I didn’t ask for your permission, Julian. I’m an adult, and if I couldn’t handle some fun, I would’ve walked out.” I can see the war raging inside him. His eyes hold ghosts of the past, and all I want to do is exorcise them.
But it’s not up to me. The ball is in his court.Chapter 18JulianI thought I’d be different with her after what we did. But as the days pass, we’ve fallen into a comfortable routine. Nea arrives early, and we spend time having our morning coffees before we head into the office to finalize preparations for the next event, and then she stays for dinner. After that, I lose myself in her. It’s the only place I feel like myself. I feel normal.
But being this happy comes at a price. Especially for an Elliot.
“Good morning.” Nea’s soft singsong voice comes from the doorway as she glides into the kitchen. Dressed in a black skirt that hugs her hips and thighs along with a tank top that seems to be painted over her tits, I can’t help myself from running dirty scenarios in my mind.
“You seem chipper this morning,” I remark, handing her a large mug filled with steaming java.
Nea offers me a smile. “I spoke to my friend Phee. She’s finally coming home. She decided to leave Rome a week early, so she’ll be coming to New Orleans to visit.”
“That’s good news. I know you missed her.” I watch her settle on the stool. She swings her legs back and forth excitedly. Nea is the complete opposite of me. She’s happy; she doesn’t allow life to get to her, and I wonder if it has something to do with her past, with her mother.
“So, what’s on the schedule for today?”
“We have a new artist coming in to deliver the pieces for our next show,” I tell her. I know she’ll like this guy because he is an abstract artist like myself. “He has about forty pieces we need to find space for.”
“I can do that,” she tells me, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I think having more art and fewer people inside at a time may be an idea. I wonder if we can get them into groups. Perhaps four people at a time.”
“We can. Since the weather is holding out, we can have the drinks and snacks set up outside. People can mingle on the lawn while those who would like to view the art can enter.”
“Are we going to have him curate, or will you?”