I heard the horror stories of people having trouble settling back in one place after extended travel, but it’s much worse than I imagined. Torn from a world of memories with no idea where I want my future forever home to be.
I exhale heavily. How the hell do you settle back down after a trip like that?
I need to come back to earth.
I doze for a while, and I feel the bed dip. “Baby,” I hear Christopher whisper as he brushes the hair back from my forehead.
I smile and hold my arms out for him, and he lies on top of the blankets in his full suit and nestles his head into my chest. “I’m sorry I’m so late, sweetheart.”
“That’s okay.” I kiss his forehead. “You must be exhausted.”
“Hmm,” he whispers as his heavy eyelids close.
“Did you have any dinner?”
He nods.
“What did you have?”
“A glass of scotch and nuts from my office minibar.”
I smile into the darkness. “Your dinner is in the fridge on a plate. Put it in the microwave.”
“Did you cook it?” he asks with his eyes still closed.
“No, it’s takeout.”
He smiles. “Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because I don’t feel bad if I’m too tired to eat it.”
“Shower,” I prompt him. He’s going to fall asleep in his full suit.
“You want to have a shower with me?” He bites my nipple through my pajamas.
“No,” I murmur. “I’m half-asleep.”
“Party pooper.” He drags himself out of bed and disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower running.
I smile. His aftershave wafts around the room, and everything is just better when he’s home. I feel myself relax for the first time today.
Five minutes later he slides in beside me and takes me into his arms. He holds me tight. “I love you, baby,” he whispers sleepily.
I turn my head and kiss him over my shoulder. “I love you too.”
“Good night.” He kisses me again.
We lie in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I’m nestled safely in his big strong arms. The best place in the world.
“You work too hard,” I whisper.
But he doesn’t answer . . . he’s already asleep.
Friday night
The charity ball: my very first official engagement as Christopher Miles’s partner.
I’m nervous and have put way too much effort into overthinking every little detail.
I blame Zoe, the personal shopper. She dragged me around the entirety of London looking for the perfect outfit for tonight. I think she’s more nervous than me.
Per her instruction, I had my hair and makeup done, and now I’m about to get dressed. My clothes are laid out on the bed for me, and I hold the Spanx underwear up and look at it. It’s tiny. Did Zoe get me the right size?
These pantie things look like they would fit a child.
Zoe’s words from our shopping trip come back to me. This dress needs good supportive underwear. Do not wear it without.
Fine.
I walk into the bathroom and close the door. I don’t want Christopher walking in while I’m struggling to pull these fuckers up.