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I roll to my side, pulling her with me, our bodies still connected. Her body curves into mine, snug and tight in my embrace. God, I love this woman.
“Zach,” Aly whispers against my neck. Her fingers draw lazy circles along my chest. “What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do I have to go another two weeks without seeing you?”
Damn. I’m such an ass.
I’ve put us both through hell this entire relationship. All to save a reputation and career that mean little to me anymore.
“No, Aly.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll take it one day at a time. The main focus is on getting your mother back to health.”
She nods and sits up. Her eyes wander up toward the ceiling. “So is your entire house just a living room and what looks like a kitchen from here?”
“Don’t worry.” I sit up beside her, kissing her shoulder. My mouth moves up to her ear. “Before this night is over, I am going to make love to you on every surface of this house.”
She shivers. “Really? That’s going to take a very long time.”
“Then we should probably get started.”
* * *
We only make it to three surfaces total before collapsing onto my bed for the night.
Aly is running on whatever sleep she got while in the hospital, and I am running off of what few hours I could claim while worrying about what to do with Aly. One obstacle out of the way, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks.
I glance over at Aly, her red hair splayed across my pillow. She looks something like a painting I saw of a renaissance woman napping in a field of flowers. Her plush lips part against a breath. If this was my morning for the rest of my life, all the riches in the world couldn’t make me happier.
I slide out of bed, careful not to wake her, and head downstairs. I haven’t even finished pouring myself a coffee when my phone rings.
My father.
I might as well bite the bullet on this one and get my tongue-lashing over with. I answer the video call to my father’s scowling. He’s not even staring at me. Instead, he’s looking over something on the computer, or paper documents. I can’t tell. Whatever it is is beyond my scope. Though I’m certain it pertains to me in some sort of way.
“What are all these charges, Zachary?” he asks.
“Good morning to you, too, Father.” I prop the phone up against the wall and finish preparing my breakfast.
“Enough. What’s this wire charge for fifty thousand dollars?”
“I bought a hitman.”
“Fine. What about this other charge for a hundred thousand dollars?”
It concerns me that he just whole-heartedly accepted my answer. Does he think “hitman” is a euphemism for something else? Or does he think asking me further questions will somehow hold him culpable in the future? I can’t imagine he’d find buying a hitman as normal as purchasing Armani loafers.
“The hundred thousand was to pay off my medical bills,” I explain.
He grimaces into the camera. “When did you get sick?”
“You mean you didn’t notice?”
His face darkens. “Don’t be a wise-ass. I know what you’re trying to do. Spend as much money as possible before you’re cut off.”
He thinks I’m out on shopping sprees trying to scrounge up as many material possessions I can until the cash flow runs out. The sad thing is that my father should know me better. I’ve never fit into his lifestyle. Sure, I enjoy the occasional sports cars and designer clothes as well as the next person. But they are not life.
“Really, Father. That seems like a drop in the bucket compared to what Aunt Edith spends on her dog each month.”
