Despite my anger last night, the words he spoke to Rhodes in that room at the club come rushing back into my head.
“You willing to die for her? Because I am.”
I was too pissed to really think about them until now. And one thing I know for certain—a man doesn’t say that about a woman he doesn’t care about. He doesn’t say it if he’s not all in.
But why did he wait so damn long to come back? As soon as I ask the silent question, Ho-It-All is ready with an answer.
Have you given him a chance to tell you? No, you’ve been throwing everything back in his face and shutting him down. Maybe try talking to the man. Like, an actual fucking conversation.
I’m tempted to flip my inner voice the bird, but she’s right.
Even though the old us only existed for a flicker of time—two weeks—it was the most real thing I’ve ever had in my life. Even my relationship with Rafe didn’t feel as real as those two weeks I spent with Moses.
Maybe it’s because all Moses and I had to rely on during that crazy time was each other. Two perfect strangers, riding out the aftermath of an insane storm, bonding over a shared experience. I don’t care what anyone says. Until they’ve experienced what we went through, they can’t say dick about what we had together.
And, God, I remember how we talked. Over the chessboard, especially. It was easy then, even if most of what I said was naive as hell when I think back on it now.
I distinctly remember telling him about the empire I was going to build. How it was the most important thing in the world. I’d just inherited the house from the old madam who got me off the streets and took me under her wing, and I wasn’t walking away and letting that go. Not when I just got my hands on it. Not for anyone.
That was the other naive part. Thinking a house meant more than spending my life with someone who I knew, even after that short span of time, was unlike anyone else I’d ever met in my life. We were drawn together like magnets. It’s the only explanation I have.
What would it have been like to wake up next to Moses every day for the last fifteen years? How different would life have been if I’d gone with him?
I stop myself there.
Doesn’t matter now. It’s all coulda, woulda, shoulda, and those thoughts are a waste of time and energy.
What I have is right now, and I’m getting my ass out of bed to take advantage of it.
With a final glance at Moses’s pillow, I roll off the comfortable mattress, take care of business in the bathroom, not even pausing to look in the mirror, and automatically grab my phone from where I left it on the nightstand before I go in search of him.
My first stop is the kitchen because that’s where the long hallway leads, but instead of finding Moses there, I find Jules.
I’m proud of myself for not losing my temper last night any more than I did, because facing him this morning would make me feel like an asshole. It’s a good reminder not to be a dick to people I’m going to have to see more than once. Which could literally be anyone.
“Morning, Ms. Maison,” Jules says from where he stands near the center island of the open-concept kitchen and living room area.
“Magnolia’s fine. Ms. Maison makes me sound like I’m fancier than I really am.”
He pauses chopping whatever he’s got on the cutting board and takes me in. “You look pretty fancy to me. Everything he’s said about you over the years is starting to make sense.”
Instantly, I want to ask what Moses could have possibly said about me over the years, but I don’t. I’m stunned by the fact he talked about me at all, truthfully.
Sensing my shock, Jules smiles, and there’s a kindness to it that’s undeniable. “Moses is out in the courtyard. You want coffee?”
Coffee. My entire body practically moans at the thought. “I would love some.”
He puts his knife down and wipes his hands as he gives me that easy smile. “I’ll bring some out to you. How do you take it?”
“Black.” My standard retort, like my heart, is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it. Even in lightheartedness, the words seem wrong now somehow.
Maybe because my heart isn’t what I thought it was. It’s changing. Coming to life again. Beating with anticipation about the thought of walking out the big glass doors to find the man who slept next to me, even after he was so mad he didn’t want to face me.
I swallow, not knowing how this will go. But to Jules, I offer a quiet, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“My pleasure, Magnolia. And, by the way, it’s really good to finally meet you.”
His statement makes me smile. I’m not used to men just being friendly and polite without wanting something in return. It’s refreshing.
My entire body vibrates as I walk through the doors and out into the morning sunshine. The golden rays reflect off the crystal blue waters of the pool, but my attention goes directly to the man sitting at the table with his back to me.
As I step onto the paver path through the grass, I see the newspaper in front of him and watch as he lifts a steaming cup of coffee to his lips.
He’s wearing black basketball shorts and a ribbed tank top. And, good Lord, does he look good. He was a beautiful man before, and time has done nothing but hone his perfection.
I haven’t given myself much of a chance to compare this new version of Moses to the old, but in the bright light of day, I can’t help but do exactly that. His muscles are bigger, and he’s definitely more built than before.
There’s a maturity to him he didn’t have back then. The Moses of old wouldn’t have walked away from me last night to let his temper cool rather than going at it and saying things we didn’t mean. He’s still not willing to take shit from anyone, though, if how he handled Rhodes was any indication. Comfortable in his own skin and sexy as hell, that’s Moses.
For a single moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if this was our life. Like, our real life. Moses up early while I sleep in. I come outside to him drinking coffee and reading the paper. I imagine coming up behind him and leaning over to press a kiss against one of those big, beautiful shoulders and saying, “Morning, Moby. Thanks for the extra shut-eye. I needed it after last night.” Because, of course, in our fantasy life, he’d work me over good every night, making sure I get what I need—and not just because he loves it when I scream his name when I come. But also because I do the same for him.
God, with that vision in my head, I wish it were true.
I wish I felt well-used this morning. I wish with every step I took, I could feel him between my legs. I miss him. All of him.
“You okay?”
Moses’s deep voice pulls me from my daydream, where I’m standing ten feet away, creeping like a pro. He turns his head, and I catch his sharply handsome profile.
I still my shaky, sweaty hands by running them down my sides. “Yeah . . . uh, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Thinking about joining me?” He motions to the chair across from him. “Because you’re more than welcome.”
“Thank you,” I say, pulling my shit together and crossing the remaining distance between me and the chair, but I pause with my hand on the back of it first. “I’m sorry about last night.”
Before I can say more, Moses shakes his head. “You don’t have shit to be sorry for. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask me to come back after fifteen years and barge into your life. I should apologize, but I can’t be sorry for it either.” He leans back and gazes up at me. “Hell, Mags. We’re both stubborn and hotheaded. We’re bound to fight.”