“The things you assumed would be a problem between us. Where we want to live. Whether we want to start a family. What we want to do with our money.”
“Our money?”
“Yours and mine. Together, it becomes ours. This is not uncommon in marriage, chérie.”
“Yes, but…”
“But so far we have kept things separate, I know. That is something we need to discuss, but perhaps not the first thing.”
He seemed to be assuming she’d agree to his plan not to go ahead with the divorce.
“I don’t know, Emile.”
She needed to think. She needed to re-evaluate everything. And she needed to do it when he wasn’t holding her hand and turning her heart in somersaults.
He looked her over closely, then nodded. “You don’t have to decide anything now. Only, chérie, can we agree not to go ahead with the divorce until we have talked some more?”
She pulled her hand away from his, hating how it felt cold and lost without him. The desire, which had sparked their relationship from the first meeting, was still just as potent as it had ever been. She wanted him so badly it hurt. But this time he wasn’t a nameless one-night-stand. This was Emile. They’d shared eight months together and four months apart. Eight months had been plenty to experience better and worse, sickness and health, triumph and disaster. They’d had fun together and they’d been serious with each other. They’d hurt each other and found ways to heal each other.
He’d fallen in love with her and he wanted to stay married to her.
“I’ll withdraw the petition. For the moment.”
She could see the tension drain from his face.
“Good.”
“But I’m not promising anything else. Not yet.”
“We can take things slowly,” he offered. “Rushing headlong into a relationship didn’t work so well last time.”
“Slow is good.”
“Slow can be amazing, from what I remember.”
She laughed. “I mostly remember fast being incredible.”
“Want me to remind you?”
It was so tempting. She could go home with him now. They’d both have their clothes off within seconds of reaching his flat, and she’d make him go fast the first time. Later in the night, they could try slow, and he could show her how amazing it could be.
“Not tonight.”
He nodded. “When can I see you again?”
She mentally checked her diary. “Thursday. After work.”
“Should I pick you up at the office?”
She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “I’ll come to your apartment. I still have the key card.”
…
She spent Thursday continually checking her watch, calculating the earliest time she could reasonably leave the office. At quarter to five, she gave in and closed down her computer, ignoring her assistant’s raised eyebrows. The journey was crowded and slow, but finally she reached his building and let herself into his apartment.
“I have pizza and I have an agenda.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.” Emile strolled towards her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. But he merely took the pizza box and set it down on the coffee table while she kicked her shoes off and settled into the sofa.
“You were the one who wanted to play lawyer and client.”
“I’ve had fantasies about it for a year. Wine?”
She nodded. He poured a glass and handed it to her.
“Tonight is your lucky night, then.”
“Excellent.” He gave a lascivious grin, then winked at her.
“The rules are very clear. No sex with a client.”
“Ah, but breaking the rules is what makes the game fun.”
He picked up the biggest slice of pizza and took a huge bite, brushing the string of cheese from his chin. Theresa helped herself to her own slice of pizza and extracted the agenda from her shoulder bag.
“First.”
His eyes nearly popped. “You’re serious about the agenda?”
“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No problem, Madame.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing. “You may address the Chair as Ms. Chartley.”
“What if I’m kissing the Chair?” He had an arm around her shoulders and as he spoke, he pulled her nearer. Well within kissing range.
“I believe that kissing is not on this part of the agenda.”
He took the paper from her and scanned it. “It isn’t anywhere on the agenda,” he said with disappointment.
“Kissing comes under Any Other Business.” She tapped the paper to show him. “Much later in the agenda. We may not get to it tonight.”
He sighed loudly and shifted to the other end of the sofa. “Get on with it then. Item one.”
“First, because all the other items are rendered irrelevant if we can’t come to agreement on this one: love.” Her heart was thudding alarmingly and her mouth was dry. She’d never, ever talked about this with anyone, but she was ready to do it. It might be jumping out of a plane at ten thousand feet, but she was strapped to an instructor, and he’d make sure that both their parachutes opened.
“That’s an excellent point. I love you, chérie. Where do you stand on the matter?” His voice was teasing, but he didn’t fool her. This answer mattered. A lot.
“Since we last met, I have had the opportunity to consider the matter thoroughly and examine all the available evidence.” The formal language was soothing. She could control the feelings if she could find the right words for them.
“I like thorough examinations. Would you do one on me?”
Emile was enjoying this far too much. She gave him a hard stare. “I have, therefore, been able to come to a conclusion.” She put her pizza slice down. “Which is that I love you beyond all reasonable doubt.”
He didn’t wait for the rest of the agenda. He swooped down and kissed her. She could feel him trembling as his lips pressed hot, urgent kisses all over her face. His hands traced her head, her neck, her breasts, as though he needed to persuade himself that she was real. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, murmuring words of love and reassurance.
Some time later, she retrieved her crumpled agenda. She was now sitting on Emile’s lap, and the pizza had been abandoned.
“Item two.”
“Have I told you how sexy you are when you’re doing your lawyer thing?”
“I believe you’ve mentioned it once or twice. Stop interrupting.” She laid her hand on his cheek and kissed him softly.
“I beg your pardon, Ms. Chartley.”
“Forgiven. Now, item two. Money.”
“I have plenty of money.”
“No, I have plenty of money. You have an obscene excess of money.”
“You’re right. I’ve had some thoughts about that. I want you to help me set up a charity.” His eyes had narrowed, the way they always did when he was being serious. She snuggled a little bit closer.
“Doing what?”
“Supporting single parents, like my mother.” His arms tightened around her. She kissed his jaw, offering the only comfort she had. Emile continued, “There are children who don’t get the opportunities I did, and I want to help give them those chances. Not just sports, but music or art, or just going to university. Some of them might even want to become lawyers.”
She lifted up her face to look at him. “That’s a lovely thing to do, Emile. Your mother would be proud of you.”