Chapter 31

DELILAH

"I have some work I need to get done." Wells gets up from the bed. "Make yourself at home. What's mine is yours."

His warm, soft lips meet mine in a gentle kiss before he exits the room. I stretch, savoring the lingering taste of him, feeling content.

As I get up and go to the bathroom, I can't stop thinking about how unreal this all seems. I turn on the shower and step in after a minute. The hot water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of sleep and filling me with renewed energy.

Once I'm dried off, I wander into his closet, which is enormous, like something out of a movie. The scent of his cologne fills the air, a distinct combination of cedar and citrus that instantly reminds me of him. I run my fingers over the neatly hung shirts and roll my eyes at how his shoes are lined up meticulously, each pair polished to perfection.

I grab a t-shirt from the dresser that says North Side College Prep and laugh out loud. The idea of this sophisticated, older man still holding onto a shirt from his high school days is simultaneously heartwarming and comical. It's not even in bad condition, which makes me smile. I slide it on, along with a pair of boxers from the dresser, which feels strange since I've only ever seen him in briefs.

Braiding my hair into a high ponytail, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and smile at the sight of me in his clothes. It feels intimate, like I'm marking my territory and claiming him as my own in a special way. I gather my breakfast dishes and carry them to the kitchen. With the dishes cleaned and put away, I reach into the fridge for a bottle of tangerine mango water.

Since he's still working, I start exploring the house. The living room is spacious, and the large windows allow plenty of natural light to brighten the space. I run my hand over the back of the leather couch, the material cool and smooth under my palm. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with novels and National Geographic magazines. I flip through a few, smiling at the handwritten notes in the margins. It's fascinating to see what captures his interest and imagination.

The dining room is just as impressive, featuring a long table that is fit for a royal feast. The sparkling light of the crystal chandelier hanging overhead illuminates the room. I peek into the study, finding Wells inside focused on his work with papers strewn across a large mahogany desk. His brows furrow in concentration, his fingers flying over the keyboard. I quietly shut the door so I don't disturb him and continue my exploration.

By four PM, I'm bored, so I head to the living room and turn on the TV. I find a movie I saw on TikTok about two girls who were kidnapped and escape by teaming up and attacking their captors. I watch for a bit, but then I lose interest. I grab the laptop on the coffee table and open it, hoping to surf the web, but it has a password. I text Wells.

Me: Hey, what's the password for the laptop in the living room?

Wells: Almost done, but it's LittleDoe3.

I roll my eyes, finding it both cheesy and endearing. It's sweet that he used my nickname as his password.

Me: Did you change that after we met?

Wells: In May. It asked me to choose a new password. You were on my mind.

Me: ??

I type in the password, and the laptop comes to life. I click the browser and begin my favorite pastime: searching for dream houses on the market. I love looking at both beautiful and bizarre homes people try to sell. It's incredibly entertaining. I easily lose track of time as I browse through listings, fascinated by pictures of expansive mansions and creatively designed houses.

I don't hear Wells enter the living room until he's whispering in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

"That's a beautiful home. Are you moving already?"

I about jump out of my skin, nearly dropping the laptop. "Dammit, man! You can't startle a pregnant lady like that; I just peed a little."

"Sorry," he laughs, the sound deep and rich. "Are you wearing my old gym shirt and boxers?"

"Yeah, I didn't bring any clothes, so I just grabbed these after my shower."

"I like you wearing my clothes, Little Doe. Now, tell me, are you trying to move already? You just got here."

"No. I like to look at listings for fun to see how people decorate and what they do with their homes. Did you know that only twenty-two miles away, there's a house decorated entirely in purple? I mean: carpet, walls, furniture, even the damn toilet is bright grape purple."

"That doesn't look purple to me." He nods at the house I have on the screen now.

"No, this is in Barrington. But it's gorgeous, right? Eight beds, five and a half baths, a fireplace, pool, and a tennis court. Built in the 1800s, except for the kitchen and baths, everything is original to the house. For a sweet three-point-two million, you can own it." I laugh and wag my brows at him, enjoying the playful banter.

He leans down like he needs a closer look but then snaps a picture of the screen with his phone and starts dialing a number. He puts the phone to his ear and waits. "Hi, I'm calling about your listing on Kirkstall Road," he pauses. "Yes, that's the one."

I look at him, brows raised, wondering what he's doing. Maybe scheduling a tour? Derek and I went to open houses in Vegas a few times, just for fun.

"I'd like to make an offer. Three million. Cash."

My eyes grow to the size of saucers, and I bolt up from the couch.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, trying to grab his phone from him. My heart races, confusion swirling inside me.

He playfully brushes me off and winks. The fucker winks.

"Perfect. Let me know if they accept, and we can start the paperwork ASAP. Of course. Wells Covington. Yes." He chuckles. "That Covington. This is my cell. Call anytime. Thanks." He hangs up, and I stand next to the couch, mouth open, staring at him like he has four heads.

"What the fuck did you do? Have you lost your mind?"

"No. But you liked it, didn't you?" His eyes twinkle with mischief, and I can't help but feel a surge of affection for him.

"I did, but not for three million."

"I have it, no problem. Our baby needs a home, not a place you share with someone else that's temporary or this place that isn't ready for a baby. So what do you say, Little Doe? Want to move in together? If they accept my offer, that is."

"You're serious? You want to move in together?" My mind races with the implications. It would mean committing to this relationship fully, taking a leap of faith.

"Yes. I want you. I want Little Boba. Count me in, baby. I fucked up before, but I'm here and ready. No take-backs. No false alarms or disappearing."

I'm not sure what to say. Do I say no and see where things go? Or do I say yes and risk uprooting my whole life again? Follow my heart and not listen to my head that's worried about all the what-ifs?

"Fuck. Why not?" The words leave my mouth before I can second-guess myself. There's a thrill in taking the risk and embracing the uncertainty.

He crashes his lips to mine, murmuring, "You make me so fucking happy, Little Doe."

His phone rings, breaking the moment. "That was fast." He smirks. He looks at the phone and his face drops. "It's Jonas."

"Hello?" he answers, his voice taking on a serious tone as he clicks it to the speakerphone.

"Hey. So I just got off the phone with the attorney in Florida. Claudia recanted her whole story, admitting she made it up out of spite."

My heart skips a beat at the mention of my mother. The woman has caused so much damage, and hearing her name pisses me off, but also I want to throw up.

"So it's over?" Wells asks.

"I'm free and clear with a half-assed apology from the officers, but I don't care as long as it's done."

Wells' face lights up. "Finally. It's about damn time."

"What about Claudia?" I ask, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. My voice sounds more anxious than I intended, but I need to know the full extent of what's happening.

"She's being charged with filing a false police report. She took a deal and got one year probation and a ten-thousand-dollar fine."

"Serves her right. I wonder how her country club friends will take her having to do community service." I can't help but smirk at the image of Claudia, all polished and haughty, picking up trash by the roadside.

Jonas continues, his tone measured. "Oh, and since Drew knew about it and didn't come forward, and paid off a guy in security at the hotel to get rid of the footage, he made a deal for one year probation, a five-thousand-dollar fine, and lost his gaming license."

My eyes widen. "No shit. So what does that mean for Royal Flush Enterprise?"

Jonas takes a deep breath. "Well, rumor has it he's handing the company over. He can still get a paycheck, but can't have the license in his name."

"Who would he give it to? He never had a COO, and Claudia can't do it," Wells questions.

"From what Dad heard, he's going to reach out to hand it over to Delilah if she agrees to let him still collect a paycheck that will maintain his lifestyle."

"Me?" I echo, disbelief pumping through my body.

"That's what Dad heard," Jonas confirms. "If they reach out, make sure you let Wells in on everything. He's smart and won't let you get taken advantage of or get into a mess."

I nod slowly, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders. "I will."

"Thank you, Delilah," Jonas murmurs. "You really saved my ass."

"It was not a problem."

"Oh, Mom wants me to remind you about Thanksgiving at their place at one PM but dinner at five. She wants Derek to come too."

"We'll be there," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

"Okay. Have fun, you two. Thanks again, Delilah. Do you want to get a coffee later this week, just the two of us?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," I say, grateful for the chance to connect with Jonas on more of an intimate level.