“Did you ever have a n**ed picnic with Melanie?”
Naked picnic with Melanie?
I tried to imagine it.
On the floor, Nathaniel? Without clothes on? You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding.
“No,” I said. “Never.”
She smiled in triumph.
“Any more questions?” I asked.
“Not right now.”
Thank goodness. For as much as I was pleased Abby felt brave enough to ask me questions, there were some things I wasn’t ready to discuss.
And I still had a week and a half before I had to.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Elaina picked up on the second ring.
“Hello,” she said.
“Elaina Grant Welling,” I said in my best no-nonsense voice.
“What? What’d I do?”
“If I wanted Abby to know the particulars of my relationship with Melanie, I would have told her.”
I walked to the window in my bedroom and looked down to where Abby and Apollo were playing outside. She’d wanted to take him outside one last time before going to bed, which was fine—I wanted her out of the house while I talked with Elaina.
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“I didn’t tell Abby anything, other than that Melanie wasn’t your . . .” She stopped for a second. “Abby told you.”
“I don’t mind you knowing about my lifestyle. I do mind you interfering.”
“How is my telling Abby that Melanie wasn’t a submissive interfering?”
Because Abby would want to know why Melanie and I didn’t work out. She would want to know why I had gone from being a dom to trying something “normal” and then gone back to being a dom.
“You’re interfering anytime you tell my submissive something I’ve chosen not to tell her.”
“Your submissive?”
“Yes, my submissive.”
“Is that all she is to you?”
“What the hell does that mean? You have no idea what it means to have a submissive.” I glanced back out the window and saw Abby reach down and pet Apollo’s head. I sighed; my fight wasn’t with Elaina. “I don’t want to discuss this with you. You have no clue what my lifestyle entails, and I don’t feel like giving you the details tonight.”
“I just thought she might be more one day. I thought she might be . . . special.”
My something special. I closed my eyes.
“It’s my life, Elaina,” I said. “Let me handle it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll stay out of it.”
We hung up after making a bit of small talk about the blizzard. She asked if I wanted to talk to Todd, but I declined.
I opened the window a tiny bit. Just enough to let some cold air rush into the room, but of course, Abby’s laughter came drifting in too. Her laugh filled me with warmth, even as the cold air chilled me.
I walked to my bed and sat down. When had everything become so confusing? Why had I ever allowed Abby into my life? It would have been so much easier to have left her as she was—someone I dreamed about but never met. Someone I watched, but never approached.
She approached you. She wanted you.
She wanted me as a dom, and I had just told her in the library that I had met and anticipated all her needs, but I hadn’t. I had not always been gentle and patient and caring. I had failed her as much as I’d failed Melanie. Probably more so.
And still, she’s here.
Because she doesn’t know.
I groaned and fisted my hands in my hair. I couldn’t think straight anymore. Nothing made sense. Nothing. I had a week and a half left to come clean with her, and instead of deciding how best to go about telling her the truth, I was spending my time reading Shakespeare and having n**ed picnics.
I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and I stood to meet her at the door. Apollo made it to my room first and pushed his cold nose into my outstretched hand. Abby walked up behind him.
“He got all wet,” she said. “I tried to dry him off, but . . .”
He lifted a wet paw to my knee, and I felt the dampness through my pants.
“Can’t be helped in this weather,” I said. “Thanks for taking him out.”
She petted him one last time. “I like playing with him. He’s a lot of fun.” She turned to leave.
I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and tell her everything. To murmur in her ear how much I wanted her. How much I needed her. To tell her she was my one percent—my something special. To f**king kiss her. “Abigail?”
She turned and looked at me with expectation. “Yes, sir?”
Fucking used the wrong name. If you want her to believe she’s your one percent, you should have called her Abby. You can’t do anything right.
Which was why I shouldn’t try.
“Good night,” I whispered.
A soft smile came over her face. “Good night.”
I stayed in my room the next morning until I heard her in the kitchen. I tossed my book to the nightstand and went to join her.
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, providing perfect light as Abby danced across the floor, a cooking fork in her hand.
I entered the kitchen and propped myself up against the countertop. “‘I’ll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew,’” I said, and grinned.
She stopped dancing and nonchalantly walked to the stove to flip the bacon. “‘You have witchcraft in your lips.’”
She liked it. She wanted to play.
“‘All the world’s a stage,’” I said. “‘And all the men and women merely players.’”
“‘Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player.’” She took the eggs off the stove and spooned them into a bowl. “‘That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.’”
It was time to bring out the heavy ammo. I walked to the stove, where she would have to look at me. In the most dramatic pose I could muster, I held one hand to my chest and pointed the other to the window.
“‘But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.’”
She laughed, and the sound made my heart soar. What was it I had been worried about? I couldn’t remember anymore.
With a serious expression, she looked at me. “‘Asses are made to bear, and so are you.’”
The Taming of the Shrew?
“‘Women are made to bear, and so are you,’” I said, quoting the next line, unable to keep the pride from my voice.
She turned the burners off, moved the frying pan to a trivet, and turned to fully face me. “I have no other but a woman’s reason: I think him so, because I think him so.”
I laughed. Damn, she was good.
And I was running out of Shakespeare quotes.
I had one more. I couldn’t find one that called her a vixen, but this one was almost as good. “‘O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!’”
“You called me a villain.”
“You called me an ass.”
“Draw?”
I pretended to think about it. “This time, but I’d like the record to show that I’m gaining on you.”
She lifted the bacon onto a serving plate. “Agreed. But speaking of gaining on me, I need to use your gym today. I have a few miles to log on the treadmill.”
“I need to jog as well.” Her bacon looked perfect, just the right amount of crispy without being burned. I took a piece. “I have two treadmills. We could work out together.”
After cleaning up from lunch, I headed to the library. As expected, Abby sat curled up on the floor with Apollo beside her and a book in her lap.
I sat down at the small desk. Between mushroom risotto and the n**ed picnic, I’d gotten very little work done the day before. I flipped my laptop open and started answering e-mail.
A few hours later, my phone rang. I looked at the display. Jackson.
“Jackson,” I said, watching as Abby stood up and left the library.
“Nathaniel,” Jackson whispered. “Hey.”
I dropped my voice to match his. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t want Felicia to hear.”
Oh, no. Had something gone wrong? I looked outside—the snow had melted a little today. If something had happened between Felicia and Jackson, she should be able to make it back to the apartment. I wondered for a minute if Abby would want to stay through the weekend and not go home . . .
“Nathaniel?” Jackson asked.
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m going to do it.”
For the life of me, I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Do what?”
His voice dropped even lower. “I’m going to propose.”
“Propose what?”
“Come on. Get with it. Propose. I’m going to ask Felicia to marry me.”
“You are?” I concentrated on the computer screen in front of me as his words sank in. “You are?”
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “But it feels so right. I just know it’s right. Everyone always says how you’ll know. Well, I know.”
My heart started to pound. You would know? Just like that? It was that easy? You asked yourself if it was right and then—bam—you knew?
“Uh, Jackson . . . I . . .” I stuttered. “I don’t know what . . . congratulations.”
“Thanks, man. Listen, don’t tell Abby. Let Felicia surprise her.”
“You’re assuming she’ll say yes.”
“She’ll say yes. I know.”
As we hung up, I felt myself gearing up for the battle to come. The part of me that knew I couldn’t do a normal relationship and the part that desperately wanted to try. I pulled a stack of papers from my desk and flipped through them, not really seeing what they were.
You aren’t normal and you’ll never be normal, I told myself. Accept it and get on with it. You have a good thing going with Abby now. Why ruin it? She’s happy. You’re happy. Enjoy what you have.
I thumbed through the papers.
Pull it together, West. Jackson and Felicia getting married doesn’t change anything. He’s like your brother. You should be happy.
And I was. I was happy for Jackson and Felicia. But why couldn’t I have—
“Nathaniel West.”
Chapter Thirty
My head shot up.
What the hell?
That was all I needed. As if I wasn’t confused enough, Abby had decided now was a good time to traipse into the library and call me by my name?
Had I not told her to address me as sir during the week? I narrowed my eyes and thought back—yes, yes, I had. It had been one of the rules I gave her on Sunday morning. She had never been one to intentionally disregard a command, so what the hell was she up to?
“I assume you will apologize for that slip, Abigail?” I asked.
“I’ll do no such thing.” She brought her hands out from behind her back and showed me the box of candy I kept in the kitchen. “What are these?”
The hell? The day just got more and more baffling as it went on. She was calling me by my first name over candy? Really?
Perhaps all the situation needed was a strong look. I set the papers down and glared at her. “They are chocolate bars, Abigail. It says so right on the box.”
She didn’t move as I stood up. “I know what they are, Nathaniel. What I want to know is, what are they doing in the kitchen?”
Not only was the day growing more and more confusing, it was also going straight to hell. Why the f**k was Abby asking me why I kept candy in the kitchen?
Naked picnic with Melanie?
I tried to imagine it.
On the floor, Nathaniel? Without clothes on? You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding.
“No,” I said. “Never.”
She smiled in triumph.
“Any more questions?” I asked.
“Not right now.”
Thank goodness. For as much as I was pleased Abby felt brave enough to ask me questions, there were some things I wasn’t ready to discuss.
And I still had a week and a half before I had to.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Elaina picked up on the second ring.
“Hello,” she said.
“Elaina Grant Welling,” I said in my best no-nonsense voice.
“What? What’d I do?”
“If I wanted Abby to know the particulars of my relationship with Melanie, I would have told her.”
I walked to the window in my bedroom and looked down to where Abby and Apollo were playing outside. She’d wanted to take him outside one last time before going to bed, which was fine—I wanted her out of the house while I talked with Elaina.
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“I didn’t tell Abby anything, other than that Melanie wasn’t your . . .” She stopped for a second. “Abby told you.”
“I don’t mind you knowing about my lifestyle. I do mind you interfering.”
“How is my telling Abby that Melanie wasn’t a submissive interfering?”
Because Abby would want to know why Melanie and I didn’t work out. She would want to know why I had gone from being a dom to trying something “normal” and then gone back to being a dom.
“You’re interfering anytime you tell my submissive something I’ve chosen not to tell her.”
“Your submissive?”
“Yes, my submissive.”
“Is that all she is to you?”
“What the hell does that mean? You have no idea what it means to have a submissive.” I glanced back out the window and saw Abby reach down and pet Apollo’s head. I sighed; my fight wasn’t with Elaina. “I don’t want to discuss this with you. You have no clue what my lifestyle entails, and I don’t feel like giving you the details tonight.”
“I just thought she might be more one day. I thought she might be . . . special.”
My something special. I closed my eyes.
“It’s my life, Elaina,” I said. “Let me handle it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll stay out of it.”
We hung up after making a bit of small talk about the blizzard. She asked if I wanted to talk to Todd, but I declined.
I opened the window a tiny bit. Just enough to let some cold air rush into the room, but of course, Abby’s laughter came drifting in too. Her laugh filled me with warmth, even as the cold air chilled me.
I walked to my bed and sat down. When had everything become so confusing? Why had I ever allowed Abby into my life? It would have been so much easier to have left her as she was—someone I dreamed about but never met. Someone I watched, but never approached.
She approached you. She wanted you.
She wanted me as a dom, and I had just told her in the library that I had met and anticipated all her needs, but I hadn’t. I had not always been gentle and patient and caring. I had failed her as much as I’d failed Melanie. Probably more so.
And still, she’s here.
Because she doesn’t know.
I groaned and fisted my hands in my hair. I couldn’t think straight anymore. Nothing made sense. Nothing. I had a week and a half left to come clean with her, and instead of deciding how best to go about telling her the truth, I was spending my time reading Shakespeare and having n**ed picnics.
I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and I stood to meet her at the door. Apollo made it to my room first and pushed his cold nose into my outstretched hand. Abby walked up behind him.
“He got all wet,” she said. “I tried to dry him off, but . . .”
He lifted a wet paw to my knee, and I felt the dampness through my pants.
“Can’t be helped in this weather,” I said. “Thanks for taking him out.”
She petted him one last time. “I like playing with him. He’s a lot of fun.” She turned to leave.
I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and tell her everything. To murmur in her ear how much I wanted her. How much I needed her. To tell her she was my one percent—my something special. To f**king kiss her. “Abigail?”
She turned and looked at me with expectation. “Yes, sir?”
Fucking used the wrong name. If you want her to believe she’s your one percent, you should have called her Abby. You can’t do anything right.
Which was why I shouldn’t try.
“Good night,” I whispered.
A soft smile came over her face. “Good night.”
I stayed in my room the next morning until I heard her in the kitchen. I tossed my book to the nightstand and went to join her.
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, providing perfect light as Abby danced across the floor, a cooking fork in her hand.
I entered the kitchen and propped myself up against the countertop. “‘I’ll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew,’” I said, and grinned.
She stopped dancing and nonchalantly walked to the stove to flip the bacon. “‘You have witchcraft in your lips.’”
She liked it. She wanted to play.
“‘All the world’s a stage,’” I said. “‘And all the men and women merely players.’”
“‘Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player.’” She took the eggs off the stove and spooned them into a bowl. “‘That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.’”
It was time to bring out the heavy ammo. I walked to the stove, where she would have to look at me. In the most dramatic pose I could muster, I held one hand to my chest and pointed the other to the window.
“‘But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.’”
She laughed, and the sound made my heart soar. What was it I had been worried about? I couldn’t remember anymore.
With a serious expression, she looked at me. “‘Asses are made to bear, and so are you.’”
The Taming of the Shrew?
“‘Women are made to bear, and so are you,’” I said, quoting the next line, unable to keep the pride from my voice.
She turned the burners off, moved the frying pan to a trivet, and turned to fully face me. “I have no other but a woman’s reason: I think him so, because I think him so.”
I laughed. Damn, she was good.
And I was running out of Shakespeare quotes.
I had one more. I couldn’t find one that called her a vixen, but this one was almost as good. “‘O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!’”
“You called me a villain.”
“You called me an ass.”
“Draw?”
I pretended to think about it. “This time, but I’d like the record to show that I’m gaining on you.”
She lifted the bacon onto a serving plate. “Agreed. But speaking of gaining on me, I need to use your gym today. I have a few miles to log on the treadmill.”
“I need to jog as well.” Her bacon looked perfect, just the right amount of crispy without being burned. I took a piece. “I have two treadmills. We could work out together.”
After cleaning up from lunch, I headed to the library. As expected, Abby sat curled up on the floor with Apollo beside her and a book in her lap.
I sat down at the small desk. Between mushroom risotto and the n**ed picnic, I’d gotten very little work done the day before. I flipped my laptop open and started answering e-mail.
A few hours later, my phone rang. I looked at the display. Jackson.
“Jackson,” I said, watching as Abby stood up and left the library.
“Nathaniel,” Jackson whispered. “Hey.”
I dropped my voice to match his. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t want Felicia to hear.”
Oh, no. Had something gone wrong? I looked outside—the snow had melted a little today. If something had happened between Felicia and Jackson, she should be able to make it back to the apartment. I wondered for a minute if Abby would want to stay through the weekend and not go home . . .
“Nathaniel?” Jackson asked.
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m going to do it.”
For the life of me, I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Do what?”
His voice dropped even lower. “I’m going to propose.”
“Propose what?”
“Come on. Get with it. Propose. I’m going to ask Felicia to marry me.”
“You are?” I concentrated on the computer screen in front of me as his words sank in. “You are?”
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “But it feels so right. I just know it’s right. Everyone always says how you’ll know. Well, I know.”
My heart started to pound. You would know? Just like that? It was that easy? You asked yourself if it was right and then—bam—you knew?
“Uh, Jackson . . . I . . .” I stuttered. “I don’t know what . . . congratulations.”
“Thanks, man. Listen, don’t tell Abby. Let Felicia surprise her.”
“You’re assuming she’ll say yes.”
“She’ll say yes. I know.”
As we hung up, I felt myself gearing up for the battle to come. The part of me that knew I couldn’t do a normal relationship and the part that desperately wanted to try. I pulled a stack of papers from my desk and flipped through them, not really seeing what they were.
You aren’t normal and you’ll never be normal, I told myself. Accept it and get on with it. You have a good thing going with Abby now. Why ruin it? She’s happy. You’re happy. Enjoy what you have.
I thumbed through the papers.
Pull it together, West. Jackson and Felicia getting married doesn’t change anything. He’s like your brother. You should be happy.
And I was. I was happy for Jackson and Felicia. But why couldn’t I have—
“Nathaniel West.”
Chapter Thirty
My head shot up.
What the hell?
That was all I needed. As if I wasn’t confused enough, Abby had decided now was a good time to traipse into the library and call me by my name?
Had I not told her to address me as sir during the week? I narrowed my eyes and thought back—yes, yes, I had. It had been one of the rules I gave her on Sunday morning. She had never been one to intentionally disregard a command, so what the hell was she up to?
“I assume you will apologize for that slip, Abigail?” I asked.
“I’ll do no such thing.” She brought her hands out from behind her back and showed me the box of candy I kept in the kitchen. “What are these?”
The hell? The day just got more and more baffling as it went on. She was calling me by my first name over candy? Really?
Perhaps all the situation needed was a strong look. I set the papers down and glared at her. “They are chocolate bars, Abigail. It says so right on the box.”
She didn’t move as I stood up. “I know what they are, Nathaniel. What I want to know is, what are they doing in the kitchen?”
Not only was the day growing more and more confusing, it was also going straight to hell. Why the f**k was Abby asking me why I kept candy in the kitchen?
