4
Julia
The next day passes in relative silence. Mom isn’t thrilled with my ‘outburst’ as she keeps mumbling about, and I’m still annoyed with her for interrupting my conversation with Edward. It was a conversation that I would be very interested in continuing. He told me he didn’t mind my staring, and I want to know why. Is he interested? Cause if he is, he’s never shown it before.
Though it was pretty obvious last night that I was distracted by him. I couldn’t wait to go to bed, because heat and arousal was moving under my skin and I needed to get it out. As soon as I shut the lights out, I picked up where I left off, and my body was more than happy to oblige. I came within minutes, imagining Edward’s hard, wet body pressed against mine. That scenario I imagined in my head where he swept me off my feet, slammed me against the wall and kissed me.
That’s all it took for me to be gasping in pleasure and shaking, almost wishing that it hadn’t gone so fast. I didn’t even need to break out my vibrator to help out. Fuck. And this morning, I set my alarm early, with the sole purpose of looking out my window, only to realize that it was Saturday, and Edward wouldn’t be going to work today.
But to my delight, he was still outside, already working in his yard before the heat of the sun took over the day. And like he knew that I would be watching, he looked up at me when I looked down at him, and he smiled.
God, that smile makes me weak.
I’ve been thinking about it all day.
Thankfully, I managed to get my mother to finish the office. So one room among the many is done. Now all I have to do is convince her that only the downstairs needs to be gone through before the gala, and we’ll be set. If she starts pulling clothes out of my closet, I’m going to lose my shit.
I should be less hard on her. I do love my mother—I do. She’s done a lot for me over the years. But I’m also an adult, and I’d like to be treated as one. Today is the first day during this home clean up that I’ve actually felt like we’ve made some progress, and I’m happy about that.
Now I’m eating leftover pizza when she comes in, dressed in a suit that I haven’t seen her wear in probably a year. “I’ve got a dinner tonight with some potential donors. You’ll be all right?”
I lift the piece of pizza in salute. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” She leans across the kitchen island and kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”
I watch her leave, and I can still see the high powered lawyer that she’s always been. When she puts on a suit, this badass walk just comes out and suddenly it looks like she can take on the fucking world. It’s in these moments when I see the mother I’ve always known and not the lost one who’s cleaning the house.
I’ve tried to ask her what happened. What brought on this change? But she’s only changed the subject. Hopefully she’ll tell me when she’s ready, because I want to understand, and I want to help.
In the meantime, it’s nice to have the house to myself for the evening. I grab the rest of the pizza and heat it up before parking myself on the couch in the living room. I’m working my way through a new season of my favorite baking show, which is soothing and charming and not at all stressful.
But as soon as I’m sitting on the couch, I know that I’m not long for this world. A summer rain has started outside. Actually coming down pretty hard. But the sound on the roof is nice, and after a long day of cleaning, I’m pretty tired. As I watch the contestants on the baking show struggle to make a three-tier wedding cake in about a third of the time it takes to make one of those properly, I find myself drifting.
The rain really sounds amazing, and it’s getting louder. And louder still. Am I dreaming? The water sounds like it’s pouring inside right behind me. What?
I open my eyes, fighting the exhaustion and turn around and look into the foyer and see water pouring through a crack in the ceiling. Holy fuck. I am not asleep anymore. I leap off the couch, and run over to the leak. The water is already spreading across the floor and it doesn’t show any signs of slowing as it pours through the ceiling. Where the hell is it coming from?
That doesn’t matter, I need to stop it. Get a bucket. Anything. Do I even have a bucket?