She laughed. “They’re beautiful! Your home is beautiful!” She surveyed his place, walking back and forth, from the living room, to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and enjoyed the sight of her. Her short hair grown out just below the ears this time, her neck lean and long, her limbs endless. He couldn’t believe she was in his home.
“What did you call this place again?”
“A maisonette. Kind of like a two flat in Chicago terms.”
“I love the white exterior. And the inside is huge! How big is this and where are we exactly?” She stood with him in the kitchen as he began to uncork a bottle of champagne.
“It used to be a restaurant,” he said with a chuckle. “It was a good investment with my share of the latest patent. Two bedrooms, two living rooms and three baths. I made an office downstairs and I wanted enough room for my family to visit.”
Simon placed a glass in front of Tessa and began to pour her a drink. “We’re on the Fulham and Chelsea border on Waterford Road.”
“When am I getting my tour?” she teased.
God, she was beautiful. He still couldn’t believe she’d come to see him.
“How’d it go?” he asked. “Did you have to take some time off?”
“It went well, actually,” she said. “I think I gave them less credit than they deserved.”
She leaned on the marble counter and played with the discarded cork laying by the wine glass. “I’ve taken the weeks at least through the Thanksgiving holiday.”
“That’s great, Tess,” he answered, a wide grin pasted on his face.
“Is it okay with you? That I stay here?” she asked. “Riley and my brother will be in Paris next week. I’ve got to meet them there for a few days—just some wedding stuff. I’d love for you to come with me. We can make it on a weekend when you don’t have to work.”
“There’s nothing more important to me than the fact that you’re here. And that you’re staying. Let me work my schedule out so I can go to Paris with you.”
He didn’t really want her to know he could now afford to quit working for good. He wasn’t going to do that anyway. She inspired him to work harder, earn more money to start a family.
“Thank you.” She smiled, raising her glass in the air.
He followed suit, clinking his glass with hers. “Welcome home, baby. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she answered, then took a big gulp. She pulled him away from the kitchen and towards the spacious living room.
Okay. Enough time had passed. He’d given her ample space, sufficient time to digest her presence. In his home. He hadn’t wanted to freak her out or anything, and so he’d reluctantly backed off, allowed her to enjoy the sights on the way from the airport, to walk in without fear of being immediately carried off to the bedroom. He couldn’t wait any longer—couldn’t imagine the early months when seeing each other after weeks apart had been acceptable.
“Oh, there’s Henry,” she said, pointing to a round picture frame in the middle of the custom-built shelf spanning the entire wall. Its red oak finish contrasted the white oak floors. “And are those your parents?” she asked, turning her head excitedly. “You look like your dad.” She lightly trailed her fingertips along the edges of the frame as she walked past it. “Oh, is that us?” she asked, inching closer to the fireplace mantel to lift up a silver light box. “It is us! At Stanley Beach.”
Simon stepped and leaned his chin on her shoulder. He pressed himself against her, felt the warmth of her body through the silk dress she wore. “That’s us,” he whispered back. He brushed his lips against her ear and took her earlobe between his teeth. She leaned back to give him access to her neck.
“Hmm.” She moaned. “Simon.”
“I love you,” he muttered, reaching down and trailing his hand from her stomach to the hem of her dress.
“I love you.” She turned to face him, looping her arms around his neck. He pressed his brow against hers. He held her face in his hands and kissed her. Nothing had changed. Not the tingling feeling of her skin, nor the sweet taste of her lips. Every goodbye served only to increase the intensity of his feelings for her. Seriously, he asked himself again, how had he survived without her in his world?
“So, how ‘bout that tour?” he asked, lifting her up, fingers searching underneath her dress.
“After this tour,” she whispered against his lips and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Tessa sat on the couch facing the windows, affording her a view of the small backyard, while Simon lay sprawled out on the bed, asleep. On the floor were discarded bottles of wine and an empty tray filled with bread and cheeses from the night before.
The tour of the apartment never happened—the kiss in the living room led to a night locked up in his bedroom. And so, at the break of dawn, she slipped out silently and wandered around his home on her own. The layout was functional, a wonderful use of space. Natural light seeped in through the skylight above the living room and through the white metal paneled windows. An open floor plan with customized white wood floors and French windows led to an outdoor terrace.
The appliances were first class—modern and sleek—and everything—music, lighting, cooking and washing was integrated within a centrally controlled panel. Simon had gone all out for this house and it showed. She was immensely proud of him and his accomplishments, felt almost inadequate when she compared his stature in the intellectual world with hers. Here she was, all art and words. And there he was, making a difference in the scientific sense, accomplished and celebrated at only thirty years old.
She turned her attention to the pile of clothes on the floor and smiled to herself as she spotted the silk necktie hanging on the side of the bed by his foot.
She felt victorious. Huh. He didn’t clean up this time. He must be spent.
A flashback of the night before made her want him again. Right at that moment. Slowly, she made her way back to the bed and placed her body on top of his, head on his shoulder, skin to skin. His arms shot up, hands grabbed her behind.
“Morning,” Simon greeted, his voice still gruff from sleep.
“Hi.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes.
“What did I do in my life to deserve waking up to this?” he asked, pressing her against him. She felt his desire against her, reveled in his reaction to her. They read each other so well now. Most of the time, words were no longer needed.
“I’m so proud of you, do you know that?” she asked, grinding into him.
He arched his back upward, thrusting inside her. “Where’s this coming from?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, eyes closed, the palms of her hands on his chest. “I was looking around your home this morning and you truly are self-made. You’re so intelligent. I find it so sexy.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” She mumbled, moving herself back and forth. “Yeah, super.” She leaned back and placed all her weight on him.
“God, Tess, you feel so good.” He held her by the hips and slammed her down on him. “Do you feel that? Do you feel me?”
“Yes!” she moaned. “Yes, Simon.”
He thrust upward even more, extended his arms and grabbed both breasts. “Shit, Tessa, you fill me. Every single part of you, fills me.” He lifted his head and sucked on one and then the other.
She bounced on top of him. “Simon?”
“Yeah, baby,” he gasped.
“I think I’m there.”
“Let go, baby. Let go.”
“No. No! Next steps. I think I’m there,” she said again.
That was her one truth. He was too far gone, too involved in their ecstasy to understand what she meant. It didn’t matter. It was more for her, anyway. She wanted to say it out loud.
I think I’m there. I’m ready to stay in one place. With you. Only you.
“Ride me, baby. Hard,” he ordered. His mouth on her, one hand exploring, the other pinching, hurting, pulling.<
br />
“Si—”
In one fell swoop and without separating from her, he flipped her on her back and pounded in so hard, she screamed in pleasure. And in pain. She screamed his name, over and over again, until he covered her mouth with his.
It took them a few minutes to catch their breaths, and she was happy to keep him inside her for as long as he wanted. “Do English people always like to spoon?” she asked, breaking their gratified silence.
“Do all Americans love to yak non-stop? Are they always this full of beans? Hyperactive?”
She squealed as he pressed himself harder against her back when she pushed him away in pretense.
Simon pulled away only when his phone rang. After hanging up, he told her his mother had confirmed dinner at their place that night.
“I didn’t know how long you’d be staying so I planned this dinner with my parents sooner rather than later. I hope you don’t mind. Don’t let it scare you. It’s just in keeping with what we agreed on—to open up our worlds to each other,” he explained. She had her head on his stomach as they both lay crisscrossed in the middle of the bed.
She kept her gaze up toward the ceiling as he stroked her hair. “I’m not scared. I’m fine. But do you think it’s a bit too soon?” she asked, knowing she risked a change in his mood. In ordinary circumstances, this was going way too fast for her. She’d never really met a man’s family before. Well, Andrew’s maybe, but that was because they were doing a book tour in Los Angeles once and they had all come to see him.
But this was Simon. He’d pursued her from the day he laid eyes on her and she tried her best to wrap her head around it. Dating on steroids. She couldn’t quite figure out why he had such an accelerated timeline.
It was just as she expected. He rolled on to his side, still cradling her head but keeping his hands to himself. “Do you think it’s too soon?” He took her question and volleyed it back into her court.
“I know how important your family is to you,” she answered.
“They are.”
“Then I’d love to meet them.”
She could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. He shook his head and squinted at her. “How did it change so quickly? I mean how did it go from you being so freaked out, to this?” He made a sweeping motion with this hand.
“I think it had been decided months ago. You scared me, Simon. You were always so determined, so sure of what you wanted. But in the end, when I began to dread the end of our visits, I knew.”
“That you loved me?”
“That I love you,” she agreed.
“Well.” He began touching her skin, trailing his fingertips along her sides. “I’m quite easy to love, you know.”
Gently, she slapped his arm. “Persistent is what you are.”
“Believe me, this is not like me at all. Before you, I was methodical and focused. I couldn’t survive with no plans, no goals, no schedule. I booked flights months in advance; I wrote everything down, planned every hour of my day. And then you came along. And all that went out the door.”
“I know. It drove you nuts I never knew where we were going to see each other next,” she said with a chuckle. “Me and you, we’re quite the opposites, huh? Those days you worked in the hotel room, your maps, your charts. I used to get overwhelmed by so much organization!”
“And I used to get overwhelmed by the extreme lack of it! You’re my girl with her head in the clouds,” he said, gently touching her face. “If we have a daughter, I will name her after the heavens. Because that’s where you’re from, and that’s where you take me, each and every time.”
Daughter? Kids? That wasn’t the shocker. What surprised her was she liked the sound of it. She liked it so much, she wanted to ask, why a girl, not a boy? When did you want to have them? Where will we live? She wanted to hear him say those words again.
“Simon,” Tessa whispered tenderly. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he answered, bending down to kiss her. “But now I have something else to tell you. My apologies in advance.”
“Oh no,” she muttered. “Now I’m worried. What happened?”
“Adrian. He asked if Ashleigh’s mom could stop by while you’re at my parents.”
She laughed, relieved. And flattered. She never stopped appreciating the fact that people actually enjoyed reading her book. “That’s it? Of course! I have a few extra books in my luggage. I can certainly bring one for his mom!”
“Are you going in there, sometime?” Adrian whispered to his brother as they stood hovering around a pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen. “Hand me the gloves.”
“No, I’ll do them,” Simon offered, stepping toward the sink and slipping on a pair of floral pink, blue and yellow gloves. He held them up for Adrian, whose mouth turned up in a smirk. The kitchen was the most updated place in their parents’ home, gutted and retrofitted with the most modern stainless-steel appliances. Of course, his mother still had her whimsical flower babies by the window and misshapen picture frames taking up any available space. Magnets on a whiteboard held up sheets of poster paper covered in Henry’s colorful doodles.
Adrian walked over and sat on the countertop directly adjacent to the sink while Simon started on the dishes. At first, he tried to whisper, but it was difficult to hear themselves over the rush of the running water.
“Poor Dad. He didn’t make it past nine. He’s gone to bed, the old guy,” Adrian said.
Simon turned the water off and began to load the dishwasher. He grouped the plates by their size, neatly lined up the forks and knives, and separated the wine glasses from the cups.
“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” He pointed to the dining room where Tessa and his mother were huddled together, whispering. Laughing. He watched his mother place her hand on Tessa’s as she spoke.
Adrian read his thoughts. “She’s lovely.”
“Yeah, she is,” Simon answered. “I really want you guys to like her.”
“She’s the one, isn’t she?” Adrian said quietly. It was more a statement than a question. Simon could see his brother was pensive. All throughout the dinner, Adrian observed rather than participated in the conversations.
Simon knew where Adrian was going with this. “I’m going to tell her.”
“When?”
“When the time is right. I’m feeling fine, there are no symptoms. I’ve given up everything. Not her, mate. Not her.”
He had worked so hard. He followed the orders, ate well, given up life’s indulgences, made sure he stayed on track. He deserved the one thing he wanted to keep in his life. He wasn’t going to risk losing her because of something out of his control.
Not Tessa. No. He had given up so much. Couldn’t he keep just one thing? His heart had been besieged with rules. Just this once. Let him keep the one thing.
When he finally entered the dining room, both women were talking animatedly about Henry. He never left Tessa’s side, and it was an ordeal to get him to leave her for bed. Tessa laughed as his mother recounted when Henry was addicted to eating ladybugs. She leaned into him as he sat next to her and encircled her in his arms. A few minutes passed. There was much happy banter about his nephew, their home, some of Tessa’s crazy fans. His mother was fascinated by the tall buildings in Chicago. She wanted to hear all about Tessa’s childhood and the places she’d visited with her parents. Maybe it was her maternal instinct that drew her close to Tessa, motherless since she was fourteen. His mother had her own career, and so she was a strong proponent for independence and individual accomplishment.
“Do you want children?” Kind, soft, buttery brown eyes, assessing her, searching for the right answers. “You seem to be very good with them.”
Visibly shaken, Tessa straightened and pulled back slightly. Relaxing only as Simon rubbed her back.
“Mum—” Simon protested.
“It’s okay, Simon.” Tessa turned to face his mother. “Yes, Mrs. Fremo
nt. I would love to have children.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” his mom said. “I was beginning to lose hope with your guy.”
“Mum!”
“Well, isn’t it true?” his mother said defiantly. Chin up, a haughty, playful tone. “You’ve never brought a girl home before this one. And I truly like her. You’re a lucky man, Simon Fremont.”
“I think I’m the lucky one,” Tessa said, smiling. She took his hand and held it in her lap.
“Well, he’s grown up to become such a wonderful young man.” His mother pointed at an elongated oak cabinet across from where they sat. Vibrant blue porcelain jars lined up next to family photos and trophies and plaques. Simon shook his head at Tessa, raising his eyebrows to ridicule his mom. “Look how little he was when he was born! Barely four pounds. In grade school, he was bullied for being so tiny, so meek and frail. But he worked hard on keeping healthy and now—”
“Look at who he’s become,” Tessa interrupted. “He must make you so proud.”
Simon watched as she focused her gaze on one of the pictures.
“We should get going, Mum,” he said. “We have an hour drive back to the city.” He stood and walked to his mother, who held her arms open for him.
“It was so nice to meet you, Tessa,” she said. “I hope you come see us again before you go back to the States. Come during the day. We can walk around the lake, see the flowers and get to know each other a wee bit more.”
“Ooh! Is that Henry?” Riley asked, her fingers locked with Tessa’s as they held up Tessa’s phone. It was a picture of a little boy in a sailor top and navy-blue shorts. “He looks so British!”
“God, he’s adorable,” Tessa said, leaning closer to whisper something in Riley’s ear. “He’s the only one I understood from that whole clan.”
Riley burst out laughing.
Simon rolled his eyes as Tessa lovingly placed her hand on his thigh. “Yeah, Tessa had a little bit of trouble with the accents.”
“That’s because I didn’t realize that you’d break into full Cockney on me.”
Eight Goodbyes Page 17