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“You like?” I ask, holding my hands up, moving them around, wanting her to be happy here more than anything.
“I love it, Wes. It feels like I’ve been here before… like a dream,” she whispers, coming over and clutching me while I circle her with my arms.
“I love you,” I tell her, kissing her head and breathing in the scent of her hair.
“Do you have servants?” she asks, looking up at me with a curious expression, making me laugh.
“No! Not really,” I admit. “Just someone to tend the garden, clean the house and keep it stocked in case I do come up here.”
“Or sell it,” she pouts, and I promise her I won’t sell it.
I couldn’t now, seeing how taken by it she is.
“They only come when I’m not here, and do what needs doing. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” I remind her as my eyes start to move over her body.
My jeans feeling awful tight again at the front.
“Wanna see the bedroom?” I ask her, noticing her attention moving outside again.
“What is it?” I ask her.
“The little ducks,” she mews. Stepping over to the windows again, looking out for them.
“They’re built for wet weather, Katelyn,” I tell her. “No need to worry.”
Moving behind her and looking out over the pond with her, I wonder how long it’s been since she’s seen anything off campus.
I ask myself the same thing when I think about the coming season.
“What’s through here?” she finally asks, exploring again with her eyes.
“More of the same, the house is in two parts, like a mirror image of itself on one side,” I explain.
She shivers a little and I offer to get a fire lit.
“I can help,” she volunteers, eagerly moving towards one of the huge fireplaces but I’m on it.
The push of a button on a remote brings it to life, making her step back before she realizes its gas powered.
“We can burn wood in there too if you want, but this is just easier.”
She agrees this is faster and warms herself by the flames.
There’s a flash of lightning from outside, but no sound. The place is almost soundproof with all the stone and inch thick glass.
“It’s so quiet up here,” she muses.
“Too quiet?” I ask, knowing she wouldn’t think that.
“Just right,” she agrees and I move to go get our things from the car.
“There’s plenty of everything in the kitchen if you want something, I’ll grab our gear.”
I want to see the place from the outside, see her inside it.
I never thought I’d see anyone else but me in the reflections of these huge windows, and looking in at her as I grab our bags, I can almost hear the others too.
See the children I know we’ll have, chasing a pair of dogs through the place as she calls out for them to take their muddy boots off inside the house.
A place like this needs family.
It needs life.
The life I’m sure we can both enjoy here, and in Boston too.
“We can come here for holidays and weekends, once you start in Boston,” I remind her as I set our luggage down by the door.
“Boston?” she exclaims, gnawing on a chicken leg as she closes the refrigerator.
“When you do your research thing… Next year.”
Her face falls a little but she tries to smile.
“We only just got here and you wanna talk about Boston?” she asks, getting that worried look again and I know I’ve said too much too soon.
No pressure, as slow as she likes, right Wes?
Dammit.
“Sorry babe,” I murmur. “I just want you to feel at home, know you can settle without having to worry.”
“I might not even have a research grant, Wes.”
Not because of you, is that what she means?
I busy myself with our bags, not wanting to start another argument.
After a moment she follows me into our room, taking it in for a second before apologizing.
“I’m sorry, Was. I gotta ring the Professor. This is eating me up inside. I’ll be climbing the walls by Tuesday if I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” she admits.
I hate to agree with her, but I think we both feel the same way.
I haven’t told her I already quit, and I should really make a few calls of my own to make it official.
“Alright then,” I tell her. “I think you’re absolutely right.”
“You’re not mad at me?” she asks, and I can only shake my head as I hold her again.
“I could never be mad at you, Katelyn. You’re my queen and this is your castle now. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Katelyn
“Can I snoop in the other side of the house while I make my call?” I ask Wes, who frowns at me for even asking.
“Your house too,” is all he says, pecking my cheek and grabbing my ass before he smacks it playfully, pushing me toward the other side of the house.
