Thirteen
The next morning, William told me he had to fly to Atlanta for the weekend. After he’d carried me from the dining room to his bed last night, our dessert activities had gone on for several hours. I now stretched wantonly in his modern platform bed and felt delicious twinges and aches ripple through my body as I stared at the lake and part of Chicago’s skyline through the bedroom’s massive windows. There hadn’t been any handcuffs or honey, but William had put the sash from his bathrobe to good use after we’d spent a long time making waves in a bubble bath. I still felt exceptionally well pleasured.
He’d kept his eyes locked with mine as he gave me the details about his trip, like he was looking for some sign that I was going to give him a hard time. Or worse. It was a last minute thing, he explained, something about a company he was thinking about investing in and the owner’s availability, and he had to go. He wouldn’t see me again until Sunday.
“Okay,” I said. I’d miss him, but I understood. Then I gave him a long, tongue-filled kiss and dragged him into his massive multi-jet shower, where I pushed him against the wall, sank to my knees, and went down on him. I loved getting him off with my mouth and I thought it was the perfect send-off. He seemed to think so too.
Truth be told, I was relieved William would be away for a few days. We needed a break. I’d wanted to slow things down after Napa so I could get my head together, but he’d refused. Maybe he’d finally realized that giving us a little breather wasn’t such a bad thing. Or maybe Atlanta was just business and last minute weekend trips were par for the course for Mr. Business Tycoon. Who knew? What I was sure of was that things were moving at lightning speed between us and we’d only met about a second ago. The intensity was exhausting and my emotions were scattered all over the place. I needed to inhabit my boring regular life for a little while and feel like me again.
The sky was grey and the lake reflected its gloominess, but I didn’t mind. I spent all of Friday hanging out at home, catching up on mundane stuff like paying bills and cleaning my condo, which was actually pretty spotless thanks to Beckett. I hand-washed all of my lingerie and scattered colorful lacy bits and silky-sheer stockings around my bathroom and living room to dry. I did some work and read a few articles online about Hutch Morrison in preparation for our upcoming meeting. The guy got a ton of press, so there was more than enough information available to check out. Later, when most of the snow had melted, Laird and I went for a long walk by the lake.
I tried to call Beckett a few times but he didn’t answer or text or call me back. That wasn’t like him, but I figured now that he had a new man in his life, he was making the most of their time together on the weekends. I’d done the same thing with William, so I couldn’t hold it against him. Still, I wondered if maybe there wasn’t more to his silence. There was that thing he said he couldn’t tell me because of the NDA. What the hell was that all about? Beckett had never kept secrets from me before and it was weird.
I ordered Chinese take-out for dinner and ended up going to bed before nine o’clock. I slept for nearly fourteen hours straight.
By Saturday afternoon, I felt rested and ready to get out so I called my friend Allison McIntyre to see if it was a good day to take portraits of her kids. She’d taken care of Laird so many times that I’d offered my photography services to her as a thank you. Besides, we hadn’t seen each other for a couple of weeks, and it would be fun to catch up. Allison sounded excited about getting together, so I packed my gear, put Laird in my Volvo, and headed over to her house in Ravenswood Manor.
After I’d taken some cute shots of her son, Michael, and her daughter, Brooke, Allison and I hung out in her cozy kitchen while the kids romped with the dog. We chatted about her job and the kids’ school stuff.
“So,” she said, handing me a cup of coffee and sitting across from me at the kitchen table. She had assorted roosters and other farm animals on the walls and decorating the counters. “Tom’s parents invited me to their anniversary party. It’s their fiftieth.”
From what she’d said in the grief support group where we’d met, I knew Allison had had a much better relationship with her in-laws than I’d had with mine. They’d been supportive all through her late husband’s battle with cancer. Even so, I also knew Allison’s mother-in-law occasionally drove her nuts. “Really? Are you going to go?”
She shrugged. “I feel like I should. I know they want Michael and Brooke to be there. But I haven’t seen the whole family since Tom’s funeral. It will be a little weird.”