The table was practically overflowing with French onion soup, perfectly cooked steak and lobster tails, fresh smoked Canadian salmon, the scallops, roasted zucchini and shiitakes. I didn’t even remember Ford ordering half the dishes spread out before us.
As we ate, the sun dropped into the horizon, leaving trails of bright pink and orange across the sky. By the time our desserts came out, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to eat them.
“I don’t know if I can stand another bite,” I said, sighing as I looked down at the plates.
“Oh, I think you can,” Ford said, picking up a spoon.
I watched as he tapped the crème brûlée, cracking the caramelized layer of burnt sugar on top, and then scooped up a perfect mouthful of custard and topping.
“Open wide,” he said.
Blushing, I obeyed, and he slipped the spoon between my lips, locking eyes with me as I sucked the dessert into my mouth.
“Mmm,” I moaned. Glancing around the dining room, I realized we were at one of the only tables that was still occupied. It was almost like we had the restaurant all to ourselves. “Now the chocolate.”
“As my lady commands,” Ford said, smiling devilishly.
My husband went on feeding me dessert, kissing me between bites, and I reveled in the romance of it all as we sat perched among the stars, with eyes for nothing and no one but each other.
Ford
Chapter 26
We returned to Chicago, and time flew by in a glorious frenzy of sex and cozy companionship as Emzee and I reclaimed the strange little life we had been building. Our arrangement might have been unorthodox, but it worked for us. And for Munchkin.
Our morning breakfasts together had made a comeback, but with more talking and less reading our emails or mindlessly scrolling through our social media accounts. In fact, the apartment had almost become a screen-free zone, unless we were both working at our computers or watching a movie. When we were home, we were together.
Ever since the New York trip, I’d tried my best to be present and pay closer attention to my wife’s wants and needs. When she mentioned that Munch was getting stinky, I took him to the groomer on my lunch break and surprised Emzee by bringing him home at the end of the work day with a fresh scent and a bandana around his neck. If she texted me about her bubble tea craving, I’d have one delivered to her office within the hour. Work stress got her down? I made time to draw her a bath or give her a massage.
Because whatever I had with her, I wanted to keep on having it. Which meant treating her like she mattered just as much as I did. It honestly wasn’t much of a hardship, and it made me regret not giving her more consideration in the past. The truth was, I’d basically had my head up my ass for seven years. The girl of my dreams had been standing in front of me all along—I’d just been too self-absorbed to realize it. Now that I had her, I wasn’t letting her go.
I also earned more brownie points when I taught a second workshop to a handful of the women from See Yourself who had expressed an interest in learning more about real estate. That wasn’t the end of my good deeds, though. A few weeks later, after discussing the matter with Malone Real Estate Holdings’ HR department, I was able to offer paid internships to two of the mentees who seemed to be the most promising prospects. Taking Emzee’s advice into account, I even made sure the interns would be answering to a woman supervisor at MREH, to avoid any discomfort or potentially traumatic power dynamics. So far, things were working out great.
As for Emzee, she’d remained guarded in some respects, but beyond that she’d done everything I had asked and more. Hell, it was themorethat was giving me so much hope.
She’d switched us back to real bacon after noticing that I was secretly feeding my portion of the turkey kind to Munchkin. She’d been practically taking notes in the bedroom, too. After one particularly hot blowjob, she’d made sure to repeat the move that got me off so hard—using her thumb to stroke the soft skin at the base of my balls while she was sucking—every time she’d given me head since. And when I had to work late, Emzee would hold off on watching our shows until I got home, so we could still watch them together over dinner.
Yet despite the fact that everything was going well, it all felt fragile.
If either of us were to actually acknowledge what was happening between us, try to talk about it or question it in any way, it might shatter everything. The relationship we were building wasn’t a house of cards—it was a house of glass. Beautiful, delicate…and not necessarily built to last. No matter how much either of us might wish otherwise. But now, See Yourself’s fundraiser was upon us, and I couldn’t focus on anything else.
It was all Emzee had been able to think (and stress) about for the last week and a half, so even if I wanted to avoid worrying about the whole thing, it would have been impossible.
As we pulled up in front of my parents’ meticulously kept brownstone mansion, I gave Em’s hand a reassuring squeeze. There were still a few last-minute logistics to deal with.
“I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to be sick,” she said, huffing out a sigh.
“It’ll be okay,” I told her, putting the car in park and turning off the engine. “I’m sorry it’s so uncomfortable for you. Just try to think about all the good it’ll do for the nonprofit.”
She nodded. “I know. It’s gonna be worth it in the end. I mean, that’s what’s gotten me this far, right? It’s just…ugh.”
“Hard to accept help from snooty rich people?” I suggested.
“Especially snooty rich people who obviously don’t like you. This is going to be the longest night ever.” Her anxiety was so bad, I could see her hands shaking in her lap.
“My parents do like you,” I soothed. “They’re just…slow to warm up. Unlike me.”
Then I pulled her in for a kiss, letting myself get lost in her soft lips and quiet moans for longer than I should have. Wishing more than anything that I could kiss her nerves away.
