Rusty Nailed (Cocktail #2)(32)
Author: Alice Clayton

“I love you, Simon. Love you, love you, love you so much,” I chanted as he laid me down, peeled the clothes from my body and his own, and entered me.

He groaned my name, answering my cries with his own, loving me sweetly. And when my orgasm crashed through me, it was wonderful and secondary to what this was.

He was here with me. Not photographing pilgrims.

chapter eleven

The time between Thanksgiving and when we left for Philadelphia flew by. I was always at work before everyone else, and almost without fail I closed the office every day. I put out fires, I trained Monica, I even did payroll a few more times. It was crazy, hectic, impossibly frantic. There were days when I barely saw daylight, ate every meal straight from the microwave, and the only time I sat down was to pee. And even then, I was reading e-mails. Please, like everyone doesn’t bring their phone to the bathroom to read?

And through the crazy, the hectic, the impossibly frantic life that I was leading, I was getting my shit done. I was not only handling it, I was actually now ahead of the curve. I’d turned some kind of time management corner and was holding my own. I walked not with a drag but with a bounce; I rushed from meeting to meeting and job site to job site with a renewed sense of purpose. I was tired, but I was happy in a weird way. I was getting the swing of things. I was still stressed, but it was a good stressed.

I was ahead of schedule on the hotel project, and I was even able to start working on a few Christmas projects. If you were very wealthy, you didn’t do your own Christmas decorating—heavens, no! You hired it out. Initially I thought that with Jillian being gone I’d need to contact some of the other design firms we were good neighbors with to farm some of it out, but I couldn’t do it. I needed to make sure that everything at Jillian Designs functioned the same way as when Jillian was actually in residence. So I slept less. And got to work on decking the halls with boughs of Red Bull.

Simon was home. His trip to Plymouth should have kept him busy until right before the reunion, but now he had some free time. Something he usually didn’t have much of. But now he did. After coming home one night to a present in his own shoe from Clive, he agreed that instead of spending a few nights a week over in Sausalito, it would be easier to just move out there and bring the little shoe pooer. So Clive was now a country cat. And he had a stay-at-home daddy.

The two of them had a ball, exploring the new house and spending hours looking out the window wall. Clive had never had so much room, and he relished all the closets and beds he could hide in and under. Simon took over the nightly game of Hide the Pounce, something that I unfortunately didn’t have time for anymore. One chilly night I came home late and found Simon holding Clive up to the window, making paw prints where it was foggy and talking about how far away the city of San Francisco was.

He grinned when he saw me, but didn’t stop talking about how cold the water was and how Clive should not try to swim back to the city. Clive nodded sagely and pressed another print to the window.

Now that Simon had so much free time, he was biking most days, sending me texts and pictures from all over Marin County. He had a favorite restaurant, a favorite place to get coffee in the morning, a favorite deli; he had a new favorite everything.

For the record, his favorite position remained whichever one I was in when he was inside me. And while I was exhausted most nights, I still managed to sneak in naked times with my Wallbanger. Such a hardship.

And with all this free time came unexpected visits. Office pop-ins. Several phone calls a day. He was around all the time, and didn’t seem to understand why I wasn’t around all the time. He logically got that I was working more than ever, and that I was happy. Didn’t stop him from trying to pull me back into bed each morning.

And shit, that was hard. Because it is incredibly difficult to get out of bed every morning when you have a rumpled Wallbanger holding on to your pajamas. Because, and I say this with pride, his favorite position remained whichever one I was in when he was inside me.

Seriously, though, he was around all the time. He’d also reminded me several times that I was not. Hmm.

Jillian and Benjamin were leaving Italy and heading to Prague, planning on spending a few days in the city and then exploring the Czech countryside. I marveled over the pictures she e-mailed me, letting her tell me all about the amazing time she was having with her husband. She was relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen her in years, and she was sure to tell me how much she appreciated her “office dynamo” handling everything so that she could take this time with her new husband. It was weird hearing her refer to Benjamin as her husband; they’d been engaged for so long he’d been her fiancé the entire time I’d known her.

I’d asked her once what made them finally decide to go ahead and set a date. We’d been sitting in the conference room, sampling cakes the baker had brought by one morning, trying to decide which one would be the wedding cake. I caught her looking down at her ring, smiling a secretive smile, and I asked her.

“I don’t know. One day I just looked at him and knew I was ready to be his wife. I’d built my business, I’d accomplished all of the goals I’d set in my twenties and a bunch I’d set in my thirties, and it just felt like the right time.” She grinned, pulling the chocolate buttercream with raspberry filling back toward her for another taste. I had a feeling this one was going to be the winner. It was. “Plus, have you seen his ass? Oh, look who I’m asking, the president of the Benjamin Fan Club,” she joked.

“I’ll have you know I won that election fair and square. It’s not my fault Mimi and Sophia didn’t know we were voting that day. Fair and square,” I explained.

Speaking of my friends, all was quiet on the Sophia and Neil front. They hadn’t seen each other since Game Night, and Mimi was planning to try again before Christmas—something I was trying to talk her out of. But when she invited them both to her Christmas party, neither one tried to get out of it. In fact, they both seemed to be looking forward to it. Who knew who they’d bring this time? They both continued to date, and often, but it rarely went beyond to a second date.

Color me surprised.

In order to jet off to Philadelphia for an entire weekend in the middle of one of my busiest seasons, I worked practically round the clock, evenings, and Saturdays to clear my schedule enough so that I could leave everything behind and just be with Simon. It was never a question of not going; there was no way on earth I was going to let him do this alone.