Chapter 20

The house on Church Street was almost done. Kitchen finished. Studio working. Upstairs paint dry. The master at the back of the main floor had a real bed now, a dresser, night tables, and an ensuite that no longer looked like a promise. Emily had moved out of the guest room two days before.

They cooked in the new kitchen. She chopped. He handled the pan. The backsplash caught the evening light the way she had drawn it. Wine on the island. No crew. No dust.

She set her glass down before they ate.

“I don’t want a secret,” she said. “And I don’t want to be a story people tell about the designer and the kid. If we’re doing this, we do it in the open. Work. Sleeping together. The rest. I’m not hiding you and I’m not going to be cute about the years for other people’s entertainment.”

Cole leaned on the counter, facing her.

“What I want is to keep working with you. Keep sleeping with you. See if the rest follows. I’m not asking you to name it tonight. I’m telling you I’m already in.”

“I know why it took me this long,” she said. “The gap. This town. The version of myself I moved here to protect. I want you in my life. That’s the sentence. It took me a while to say it.”

“I know why it took you a while. I accepted that the first week. I still do.”

They ate. After the plates were in the sink she took his hand and led him down the hall to the new bedroom.

She undressed him first. Shirt off, mouth on the skin she uncovered. Belt, jeans, the rest, her hands unhurried. She put him on his back on her bed and looked after him. She kissed his throat, his chest, the line of hair down his stomach. She took his cock in her fist and stroked him until a bead of wet showed at the head, then licked it off and looked up at him while she did it. She took him into her mouth slowly, inch by inch, and sucked, wet and steady, one hand at the base, the other on his thigh. When his hips lifted she eased off and dragged her tongue up the underside and came back to it until he was swearing at the ceiling.