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Finally, my man smiles with a glimmer of hope in those blue eyes, and it almost breaks my heart.
“Do you mean that?” he asks in a low voice.
“I do,” I reply firmly. “Absolutely.”
With that, I’m swept into Julian’s lap as the huge man holds me with strong arms. His face is buried against my neck, and I feel wetness there, as if he’s crying.
“I love you, Lindy Renfrew,” he manages in a broken voice. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I appreciate you doing this for me.”
I pull away so that we can look at each other, and indeed those blue eyes are shimmering with tears.
“I’m not doing this for you,” I say in a soft tone. “I’m doing this for us. We’re doing this together.”
Julian nods, his cheeks still wet, and then pulls me in for a kiss. For the first time, our liplock isn’t filled with overwhelming physical passion, but rather the understanding of two people determined to create a future together. After all, this is my man. This is the billionaire whom I adore, and while I never anticipated we’d face issues like this, somehow, it will work out. I love Julian and he loves me, and in the end, that’s all that matters: our adoration for one another, and the things we do to keep secrets and lies at bay.
10
Julian
* * *
I’m standing outside of the door to Lindy’s apartment with a bouquet of flowers, a combination of yellow, red, and orange to match her sunny personality. I adjust the tie I’m wearing, which is probably overkill, but it felt right to dress up because tonight is the big night. We’ve been working up to this moment for a few months now, and I’m goddamn nervous.
I look down and curse while scuffling my feet. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m behaving like a seventh grader showing up for a school dance and yet I can’t stop the butterflies in my stomach, nor the dizziness that threatens to topple me where I stand.
She loves you, the voice in my head reminds me. Things will be fine.
I bite my lip again, still hesitating before Lindy’s door. God, what a difference she’s made. Lindy’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and through her, I’ve made incredible progress on my hang-ups and reservations. I thought I could beat back my fears on my own, but Lindy showed me it’s okay to need help. As a result, I’ve been seeing a therapist every week for the last few months. A different one than the one I saw ten years ago. Dr. Seligman specializes in childhood abandonment issues, and while I don’t enjoy our appointments per se, I have to admit that cognitive behavioral therapy has helped somewhat. There are no medications involved, although I’d be happy to be drugged to the gills if it actually made a difference. Instead, Dr. Seligman and I talk each week, and then she provides different suggestions for what to do when I’m feeling overwhelmed by my thoughts.
But tonight, the pedal’s going to be put to the metal. I’m meeting up with Lindy for a regular date at her apartment without the specter of Club Z looming over my shoulder. This is the woman I love, and not an escort I’m paying for. Can I make it work? I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. Fuck, what if I screw up again? What if the ED strikes and I’m left limp and sweaty? I shake my head with frustration. I don’t even want to go there.
But there’s no sense in waiting anymore. I rap on the door, and within seconds, my gorgeous girl answers.
“Hi!” Lindy says with a sweet smile. She greets me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and has never looked more beautiful in a simple t-shirt and worn jeans.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her.
She blushes. “No skanky club dress tonight,” she says. “Does that freak you out?”
I take a deep breath.
“A little, but it’s fine.”
She smiles and presses a tender kiss to my lips.
“You’re going to be okay, Julian,” she murmurs. “I promise. Now come in because the food’s almost ready. Oh, could you set the table please?” she asks as I wander into the small common area. Holy shit, the scenario is so domestic but this is what I’m working towards. “The plates are in that cabinet and the utensils in there,” she says, pointing to a drawer.
With trembling fingers, I grab the plates, utensils, wine glasses and napkins to get the table ready. My breathing’s unsteady but I force my pulse to slow a bit. I can do this.
Finally, the table is set and I turn to her.
“What are we having tonight?” I ask just to make conversation. She smiles at me over one shoulder, looking cute again in that puppy apron.
