Saturday, I am woken by my phone ringing. Surprisingly, I’m feeling okay when I pick up and hear Blake’s voice. Or so I thought.
“Oh, hey,” I say as I sit up in bed and try to figure out the time. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the light yet.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine. You woke me.”
“Oh sorry, I thought you would be up. It’s almost noon.”
“Oh shit! Really? I must have been tired.”
“Did you have a good night?” he asks.
“Yeah, it was fun. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. I was just surprised by the messages you sent me.”
I cringe. “Messages?”
He starts to laugh, so at least I know they weren’t too bad. “Oh, if you don’t remember, I don’t think I will embarrass you with the content. I just never knew you were so kinky.”
“Really, Blake, what did I send?”
“I’m at the airport so I don’t think it’s appropriate to say out loud. I’m happy to oblige once I get back.”
“No kinky shit! We need to talk, Mr. Chicago. I’ve been trying to get hold of you all week to sort this out.”
He sighs loudly. “We can speak about it as soon as I’m back. I have a surprise for you, but you will have to wait.”
“Okay. Have you spoken to your dad to check on Annie?”
“Yes, he said she slept all night. When I called, Bree was out in the yard with her while Dad made her his famous pancakes.”
“Aww, I bet she loved that.”
“I bet she did. Hey, I’d better go. I will be home with her soon.”
We end our call, and I can’t help wondering what his surprise is.
He keeps saying he will sort this Chicago thing out, but nothing seems to change other than him making sure he’s home for a few nights over the weekend.
A sharp pain shoots across my head, and I remember the texts. I hold my breath as I investigate what I sent him last night.
Some random messages of memes that will have annoyed the shit out of him. He hates my sarcastic memes. Then a message from him asking for a picture of me.
Luckily, I’m wearing my underwear and the picture mainly focuses on my cleavage. I went gone on to ask for a dick pic, which he doesn’t appear to have sent.
This is followed by numerous misspelled and badly auto-corrected messages about his amazing dick, his incredibly sexy face, and what I want him to use his upper body strength for the next time we are together.
Damn it, Amelia.
Why do I do these things?
I drag myself up out of bed and take a shower. I have been living in Blake’s apartment now for a while and it looks so different to the original cold, perfect apartment it was.
It hadn’t looked much different until Annie came along, though, and it’s mainly her things that dominate it now.
I still love her bedroom, and when she isn’t around, I find comfort in sitting in there, rocking in her chair in the corner, looking out of the window at the busy city below.
I’m still in there reading my book when I hear Blake coming in. It’s the pitter-patter of Annie’s tiny feet that I hear first. It’s loud as she runs around the apartment on the wood floors.
“Careful, Annie,” I hear Blake say as he sets the bags down while she runs riot.
“Hello there,” I say as I approach them both. Annie is straight in her toy box and doesn’t bother that I’m there. She has her dad now.
Blake smiles and my heart leaps. “Hey there, sexy lady,” he says.
I screw my face up in response and walk toward him for a kiss.
“So, I kept Annie awake the whole way so she should go to bed early and we can get some mommy and daddy time.” His sexy wink makes my head spin.
I smile. That will depend on what his surprise is. “We need to figure out what we’re doing here first.”
He breathes in deep and pulls me into his arms. “Well,” he breathes in again. “I told you I would take care of it, and I have.”
I pull away from his arms to look at his face. I’m confused. “Took care of it how?”
“I’m back, baby,” he smiles. “I’m in the New York office on Monday.”
I struggle to catch my breath—this isn’t what I wanted him to do. I did but I didn’t. I didn’t want pressure from me to cause him to step back from what he loved.
“But,” I don’t know how to say this. “But I didn’t want this.”
His frown deepens, and his face looks sexier the more his eyes burrow. “You didn’t want me home?”
“Yes, I want you home, but I didn’t want to put pressure on you to make a decision.”
“You didn’t put pressure on me. You told me to stay.”
“No, but you came back because there was a repercussion if you didn’t.”
“Yes, but why does that matter? You never once told me I had to come back here. I chose to.”
“You don’t get what I’m trying to say—”
He cuts in. “Fuck, Amelia!” His jaw starts to tense. “What do you want from me?”
I shrug. “I want you to choose to be here with us because that’s where you want to be, not where you feel you need to be.”
“THIS IS WHERE I WANT TO BE.” His voice is raised now. Annie looks over to investigate. She has probably never heard Blake raise his voice. It takes a lot for him to get to it.
His face softens, and he smiles at Annie before his eyes are back on me.
I feel vulnerable and exposed standing in front of him, not knowing what I want or what he wants. I feel so out of control.
“Amelia,” he says in a slow soft tone. “I love you. Please start to believe that. It was never a choice. I never want to be away from you two again.”
I smile, but I’m not convinced. I feel like this will come back to us later, and it scares me.
“I just want you to be happy,” I cry.
“Do you know what will make me happy?” he smirks, and I see his body relaxing.
I shake my head, tears running down my cheeks. He puts his hands up and wipes the tears away.
“I would be so happy if you could please pin down a date for our wedding. Sometime before Annie’s eighteenth birthday would make me the happiest man alive.”
He hugs me into him. His smell and warmth engulf me as his strong arms tightly wrap around my body. Suddenly I feel a sense of calm and safety.
“How about autumn?” I sniff.
“Fall?” Blake asks.
I nod my head.
“A fall wedding sounds amazing. Let’s start looking at venues. We might not have a lot of choices if we want it that soon though.”
“I have every confidence that you will pull off what we want. Anyhow, I don’t want it anywhere exclusive. Just something personal to us and simple.”
“You don’t want the only wedding you’re ever going to have to be magical and exclusive?”
I shake my head, and he laughs. “We could just do it at the Love Chapel. I know the guy who owns it,” he says.
“Oh you would, but no. I want something old and rustic—like you.”
“Well, I’m glad we made progress. Now can I go unpack my stuff and move back in permanently?”
“Of course you can,” I say as he walks toward his bags.
“I love you,” I shout after him.
