“My god, woman, you’ve made him love you.”
“He’s a good boy,” I said.
Charlie ended the call. I blinked at him. “Why’d you do that? We were talking.” I crossed my arms.
“I’m not about to become cuckolded by my own bloody cock.” He lunged at me and kissed my neck until I was lost in a fit of giggles.
When the laughter stopped, we were kissing again. His heavy form weighing me down, making me feel so good. I arched against his hard length and moaned.
“Charlie,” I whined.
He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to mine, looking deep into my eyes. “Christ, I love hearing you say my name like that.” He rubbed his hips into me. And I groaned at how hard he was. “But we aren’t done yet. I really did have something I want to show you.”
He sat back and pulled me to lean against him again. I huffed out a long breath and told my body to calm down.
He navigated to a folder in his photo albums that readFor Kate.
“I had planned on telling you everything earlier. A long time ago.” He shook his head and ended the train of thought. “There was so much to show you. Eventually, I’d hoped … maybe one day.” His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. “I’ve been taking pictures to show you.”
I gasped softly as he scrolled to the very top of the album.
“I know if feels like I haven’t told you everything, but I really do live a simple life. I just left out some of the details. You do know me better than everybody.”
I smiled up at him.
“But. I still have some things I want to show you.” He clicked to enlarge the first one. It was a modestly large brown brick country home complete with climbing vines and a turret. It was too big to be called a quaint little cottage and it was gorgeous. I gasped.
“That’s the Vicarage?” I asked.
He nodded. “Just there, behind that little building—that’s Agata’s cottage by the way—is where I built the chicken coop you just got to experience.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said.
He continued to the next picture.
“This is when you first walk in the front door. This whole floor needs loads of work,” he said.
He continued on like that, picture after picture of each room. I adored every word from his mouth. My greedy eyes drank up every detail.
“It’s all so beautiful,” I said.
“It is. I love it,” he said. “This is the kitchen. Agata doesn’t let me in here much, but if I have tea with her, it’s at this little table.”
I nodded. My throat felt too tight to talk. I could picture it all so clearly now. All his daily routines were no longer a mystery.
“The kitchen needs the most renovating. All the appliances are ancient. I hear about the ‘tiny fridge from Cold War’ on a daily basis.” I laughed at his attempt at a Polish accent.
He kissed my forehead and kept scrolling through, one photo after another, and all the missing pieces of him came together to form a clear picture.
“I can’t wait to see the afters,” I said. “When are you starting on the renovations?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure. I was just waiting to feel settled. Until I felt ready or …” His gaze moved over my face. Sadness passed over his features before he quickly schooled them.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He swiped to the next picture. “I love this room. You w—” He stopped abruptly. My heart skipped. I was desperate to know what he had been about to say, why was he still filtering his thoughts. But I knew this was a huge step for him and I wouldn’t push. He cleared his throat, and there was a slight shake to his voice when he continued. “It would make a great office. There’s a little fireplace and look here.” He zoomed in on the next picture. “This is the view from that room. Look. You can see the sheep from the farm over the hill. That’s Farmer John’s land.”
Tiny dots speckled rolling green hills. It was breathtakingly beautiful and picturesque. This was his home. This was his life. Longing tugged at my heart. I could almost envision myself curled up on a chair reading …
