“I’m helping Mom bake pies for the shelter,” I answered, a bit of pride shining through.
“Really? Excellent! I hope you and your guy will stop by if you’re able.”
We intended on it. Charlie fussed over whether or not I thought I was ready. It would be the biggest event I’d been to, and he worried it might be too much, too soon. And it might be, but it was a chance I was willing to take. For the first time in so many years, I could see choices stretched out in front of me, just waiting for me to take one.
After we finished talking, I did a little shopping, picking up some things for dinner. It still amazed me that I was able to do this, and I wondered what my life would have been like if I hadn’t given up on therapy to move out to the woods. But, as Dr. Rob told me, I couldn’t dwell on the past. I had to look to the future Charlie and I were building.
I caught a cab back to our place, trying to decide if I should renew my license to save on the not-too-cheap fees I was paying to have them come get me and take me back.
When I got home that night, Charlie wasn’t there yet. He’d taken a day trip to New York to visit with his publisher, who wanted to talk to him about the book tour they were planning on doing. Though we hadn’t discussed it, I wanted to attend with him, for moral support if nothing else.
I texted him to let him know I was home. He immediately replied, saying he would be home within the hour, and he had my copy of the book with him. I was so excited I could barely contain myself. He kept saying this book was going to be a game changer, and I would be the first person, outside of his publishing company, who would get to see what it was.
I made beef goulash for dinner, something rich and hearty to combat the pervasive chill that seemed to have settled on our land. As I glanced out the window, I saw the approaching lights, and my heart began to beat faster. Charlie got out of his truck and strode toward the house, my book in his hand. I rushed for the door, threw it open, and reached out.
“Did you miss—”
I snatched my copy ofComes a Foul Windfrom his grip. “Dinner is on the stove. Help yourself,” I murmured as I rushed for the couch.
He chuckled. As he passed by where I sat, he bent over and kissed my head. “Missed you too, babe.”
The story gripped me from the first page. Tremaine could best be described as an antihero, because he did a lot of things no good person would do. When I’d tried to explain my fascination with the world to Clay, he kept telling me how Donald would probably be arrested for some of the stunts he pulled. Of course, he had to get a copy of the book to find out what I was talking about, and now he was hooked too. He did say he skipped the sex scenes, though.
“So what do you think so far?” Charlie asked, taking a seat beside me.
I glanced up. I’d been there for over two hours. “Fuck, this is good,” I muttered, not wanting to stop reading.
“It’s time for bed, you know.”
“One more chapter, okay? Please?”
He glanced over to see where I was and smiled. “Sure. I’m going to nap here, if that’s okay. Long trip, but I didn’t want to be gone overnight.”
The thought touched my heart. “Glad you came back.”
“Oh, I’m always going to come back. At least as long as you’re here,” he said, his voice filled with sleep. A moment later, he was snoring.
I knew I should put the book down, but goddammit, I’d waited almost a year for this to come out. I promised myself one more chapter and then I’d take Charlie to bed. Maybe tonight we’d exchange hand jobs again. Or maybe we’d go a little bit farther. We hadn’t done anything beyond that, as much as I wanted to. Charlie insisted we were going to take it slow, and I appreciated that fact. Being able to touch him was good enough for me.
The end of the chapter was drawing near, and I’d only finished about half the book. But a promise was a promise. Things took an odd turn when Lucien got arrested for murder, as the police found the body he said he’d seen. Tremaine strode into the police station, larger than life. They took him to see Lucien, who sat seemingly completely unbothered by the events around him.
“Aren’t you going to ask if I did it?” Lucien asked, his voice silky smooth. He studied his nails, then buffed them against his shirt before he turned his gaze back on his lover.
“Why? Should I?” Tremaine fired back. “Is that what you want? Me to ask if you’re a killer?”
Lucien snorted. “Why not? Everyone else is wondering.”
“I never wonder about you, Lucien. You are the one solid thing in my whole life, and I never doubt that. I do have a question I need answered, though.”
“I figured you might” came the cold reply.
Tremaine fished a hand into his pocket and withdrew a small pewter gray box. He held it out and popped the top open. Inside was a brushed metal band with gold edging on the top and bottom. “Do you think you might wanna marry me?”
“Oh my God!” I squealed, jolting Charlie from his sleep.
He lurched up. “What? What’s wrong?”
I reached over and grabbed him by the hand. “Tremaine asked Lucien to marry him!”
