“Come on!” she shout-whispers, running toward the fountain.
Shit. Part of me is afraid of getting caught. The hornier part wants to know if she’ll take her clothes off. Hornier wins out, as usual.
“We’ll get in trouble,” I say, walking toward her in a mostly straight line. Already she’s shimmying out of her skirt and stepping out of her heels. Next thing I know, I’m peeling off my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt. No way she is doing her La Dolce Vita naked routine without me.
Julia dips a toe into the fountain, then steps in, shrieking a little at the cold. The fountain is quiet. The show probably doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes or so. I get in after her, sloshing around behind her and grabbing her around her waist. She giggles, arching back against me and looking up into my eyes. I kiss her, running my hands along her breasts, down her body. She spins around and away from me, dancing a little.
“Come on, I wasn’t done yet,” I say, laughing as I move toward her. Julia flips her hair, curls bouncing down her back as she holds up her hands.
“I think this is it,” she says, wide-eyed with anticipation. “It’s about the right time.”
“For what?” I ask.
Then I have my answer. The spray soaks me. I admit it; I yelp, almost toppling backward.
Julia laughs wildly, kicking the water, dancing around as the jets shoot a hundred feet into the air. Watching her in the softness of the coming dawn, I’m transfixed. I’ve never met anyone so free.
“What do you think?” she asks me, twirling around. I walk over and fold her into my arms. We kiss, and she tastes like coffee and sugar, the bite of tequila still on her breath.
She smells like the desert sun, feels soft and warm and perfectly alive in my arms. She’s perfect. I look into her eyes, hold her against me.
“I think this feels good,” I tell her.
“Like a happy ending?” she asks, slurring the words a little. She tries it again, this time articulating the sentence perfectly. I kiss her.
“I don’t like when things end,” I tell her, as we watch the fountain rise higher into the early morning sky, our arms around each other. “Beginnings, though. Those work great.”
27
Julia
Six months later
“Last one,” I huff as I race up the stairs and into the condo, two lamps in my arms. One is my very precious vintage Minnie Mouse lamp in her polka dot dress, which I sure as hell wasn’t leaving in Milwaukee. Nate comes up behind me, carrying a heavy cardboard box. His sleeves are rolled, his arms bunching with steely muscle as he takes the last couple of steps and kicks the front door shut behind him. Mmm. Steely muscle arms. Welcome home, indeed.
“Sure you don’t have anything else?” he asks as he sets the box down and stretches. “A dead body you had stowed in the trunk?” He leans against the wall, his magnetic blue gaze growing even more magnetic with sarcasm. But it’s one of the things I love about him.
One of many.
“I wanted to bring mine, but I was afraid it’d upset the feng shui of your house,” I drawl, putting the lamps down. I still can’t believe I’m living in any place as beautiful as a River North condo. We’re up high, the twentieth floor, and the lights of downtown Chicago are sparkling along the river. The first few times I came here, I didn’t really notice the view—Nate and I were pretty busy in the bedroom. But now that I’m an official resident, I have to admire it.
Nate’s place is very modern alpha businessman sparse, with high end walnut furniture, soft sconce lighting, and sleek black couches. Minnie Mouse is going to have to find just the right corner. But she will.
“Now that we’re done moving,” Nate says, as he crosses over and takes me in his arms, “maybe we should celebrate.” He kisses me, and it’s ridiculous how after all these months, I still melt just a little. I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands ghost down my body, toying with the edge of my skirt.
“What’d you have in mind?” I whisper as he runs his fingers up my leg, my skin electric beneath his touch. Up and up and up—
“Champagne?” he asks, instantly stopping his progress and letting me go. Winking, he moves towards the kitchen. I huff.
“You tease!” I say, and he laughs. A moment later, he’s got a bottle of Veuve Clicquet and two champagne flutes. Well, if we have to interrupt sexytimes, at least it’s for a good reason. He pops the cork, pours, and we sit on his ultra-sleek couch in this ultra-sleek condo in an ultra-sleek Chicago neighborhood. When we first started seeing each other, I was afraid my being so un-sleek would clash with the lifestyle. But I think a little Minnie Mouse, sparkly purple, and Bangles music was what this place needed.