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Because this was what I was going to do with my life. Writing a book? That was a side project now. My singular, driving goal, my life’s purpose had finally become clear at age thirty.
My job was to leave the world better off than I’d found it.
Chapter Twelve
April showers brought May flowers, but those weren’t the blooms that had been occupying most of my time, lately. Mom had made the mistake of consulting Neil for his expertise with all things floral, and I’d often found myself the tie-breaker when they clashed.
“Neil says orchids, but mom really wants Stargazer Lilies,” I said, weighing two glossy photographs of possible table arrangements in my hands, as though the action would give me some idea of which would be best.
“It’s your mother’s wedding,” El-Mudad reminded me, his mouth paused above the rim of his coffee mug as he leaned one-handed against the counter. “Maybe she should pick?”
“I know that. We’re going with the Star Gazers. I’m just trying to figure out what I can find wrong with orchids so I can make it sound like we picked the lilies through logic and careful consideration,” I mused.
Neil was in the city for the weekend to go to the opera with Rudy. Opera was not my thing at all so I wouldn’t have gone with them, anyway. But it was nice to have company while he was off doing his boring Neil stuff. Polyamory had a big advantage in that way; if someone wanted to fly solo for an outing, nobody had to feel abandoned or left behind.
“I will never understand his thing with flowers,” El-Mudad said fondly. “They’re plants. They grow in the dirt, and then someone cuts their genitals off and arranges them in a jar.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds so romantic,” I joked.
We stood in the kitchen, waiting for our quiche to finish baking. Our housekeeper, Julia, didn’t work on weekends, but she left breakfast dishes we could easily finish cooking for ourselves. Olivia had gone into the city with Neil so she could meet up with Valerie for a girl’s day out, leaving El-Mudad and I to indulged in some rare walk-around-practically-naked time. I wore a short, black silk chemise beneath a sheer, floral-printed black robe, and he was perfectly happy to wander around in his tight black briefs. Which I was one-hundred percent, absolutely okay with. He had the body of a goddamn Olympic swimmer.
He set down his mug and came to stand beside me as I stared at the photos on the counter. He put his hand over the back of my neck and gently played with some wisps of hair that had escaped my high, messy bun.
“Why don’t we stop worrying about the flowers for now? Breakfast is almost ready, and we have a whole Saturday to ourselves,” he murmured, lowering his lips to my skin. “We could make Neil another surprise video.”
I giggled at the thought. The last one had gone over very, very well with him.
“Did you want to go out to the Pavillon?” I asked. “It might be a fun day to play around in the machine room. You haven’t used the Sybian yet, and I hear it gives amazing prostate orgasms.”
“And what are you going to do?” he asked, grinding his pelvis against my backside.
I considered. “I could use a good pounding from the fucking machine. Maybe you could cuff me and force me to orgasm while you watched?” I clapped my hands excitedly. “Or, I could cuff you and make you stay on the Sybian.”
“And here I’d imagined a relaxing day,” he quipped and nibbled my earlobe.
I took the photos and stacked them together, tapping them on the counter to even their edges before I put them down. “When is this stupid thing going to be done baking?”
“Should I distract you from your hunger while you wait?” He cupped my breast over my silk nightgown and rubbed his thumb across my nipple. His other hand crept up my thigh, dragging the fabric as his fingers inched higher. I sighed happily and lolled my head back on his shoulder.
And that’s when I heard the kitchen door open.
And my mother gasp loudly.
“Sophie Anne!”
El-Mudad had jumped away from me the moment we’d heard her barge in, but there was no way to spin how we’d been standing and what we were wearing as entirely innocent. All the blood in my body ran to my face and neck. El-Mudad wisely stepped around the corner of the island to hide his raging erection.
“How could you?” she demanded, not of me, but of him. “You are Neil’s friend, and you’d treat him this way behind his back?”
She turned her hurting rage to me. “And you! I knew something was going on! I knew it, and you lied to me. You lied to me!”
