Chapter Thirty-Nine

Danica

W e stare at each other for a long moment, the heat of his lust-filled gaze burning into me, into my very soul. I know I should feel embarrassed for him catching me in such a vulnerable moment, hearing me call out his name as I made myself come in his bed, but I don’t. The old me would have. I would have felt shame, embarrassment, self-recrimination. But the way he is looking at me now? Longing and passion are banked embers in his crystal blue gaze, and in this moment, all I feel is desired. Needed.

Even so, it’s one thing for me to make myself come with his name on my lips, it’s another thing entirely for me to give in to my secret desires and welcome him into my bed. Slowly, his watchful eyes not missing a thing, I adjust my panties, righting them before I sit up and pull the fluffy comforter over my lap. Curiosity over where he brought me wins out now that I am more alert, and I glance around the room.

A throat clears, and I glance over in time to see Theo straighten, pushing away from the wall as he walks closer, blue tumbler in hand. “I brought you coffee.”

Gently setting it down on the nightstand next to me, our hands brush as I reach out to grab the mug, sending a rippling current of desire through me once more; I flush, head tilted down in an attempt to hide my blush with my messy curls. Tentatively, I take a small sip to test the coffee and raise my eyebrows, glancing back up at him in surprise. “You remembered? ”

A smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. “ Iced venti pumpkin-cream chai tea latte, oat milk, with one pump of vanilla and two pumps of brown sugar. How could I forget such a. . . memorable order.”

I can’t help the small chuckle that comes out at the memory, “I stand by what I said. Best viral video I ever watched, bringing such heaven in a cup into my life. And I will die on this hill. I also stand by my original assessment that you are a creeper for hacking into my accounts to find that information in the first place.”

He just chuckles at my pointed expression. “Oh baby, if you think that’s bad. You have no idea how far I would go to keep you happy.” Though the words are spoken with a lighthearted tone, there is a darker undercurrent, a menacing promise left unsaid. Before I can think too hard about it, however, he interrupts my musings. “When you’re ready, there are clothes for you in the closet, breakfast is in the other room.” A nod towards the general direction of the closet is the only thing I get before he turns on his heel and walks abruptly out, leaving me to explore.

Holy. . . shoe heaven . . . my gasp is loud in the stillness of the closet. Really, not a closet. This damn room must be bigger than the master bedroom in my apartment. Like, think of the walk-in closet in the Princess Diaries 2 movie. Yep. Practically a mini-mall. One wall is filled wall to wall with rows of shoes, every color and style you could imagine. Louboutin, Jimmy Choo, Alexander McQueen’s. From the most ridiculously impractical stiletto heels and wedges, to thigh high boots and sneakers. I am in awe and can’t help but inch forward to graze my fingers over them. And though I probably should be, I’m not surprised when I find that every single pair is brand new and all in my size.

Another wall is just rows of bags, purses, clutches, and various accessories while the last wall is full of designer clothes, all brand new, all in my size. And somehow, though high end, they all appear to be super comfortable. Mostly jeans, leggings, soft tops, and sweaters. Nothing like the impractical clothes that were meant to project an image of perfection like what my parents used to expect me to wear. No, these are high-end and new, but they are all practical, designed for comfort over maintaining a false image. There is a large island in the middle of the room, full of drawers, and a comfortable-looking settee in one corner.

Overwhelmed by the myriad of options, I quickly open drawers and find they are full of lingerie and soft sleepwear. Rolling my eyes, I close the drawers and turn back to the wall of clothing, not bothering to glance too closely before grabbing a comfortable looking pair of black slacks and a soft blouse that has to be made of cashmere. I make quick work of donning the garments before I hurry back out of the room. Holy hell. Even my mother didn’t have a closet that extravagant, and she lived for opulence and putting on a certain appearance to show how much better she was than her peers.

Without a backward glance, I exit the room and slowly make my way down the hall, curiously glancing around me. Immediately outside of the bedroom appears to be some sort of breakfast nook. There is a coffee bar, a pair of comfortable chairs and a small table in a little nook with broad windows that overlook the land outside. Food overloads the table, savory and sweet smells competing for attention in my nostrils as I inhale the delicious scents. Cautiously, I make my way forward, and sit at the table just as Theo re-enters the room, carrying two glasses of what appears to be orange juice.

“Wasn’t sure what you would want, so I made a little bit of everything.” He moves closer, setting the glass down in front of me before taking the seat opposite.

Crepes with strawberries and fresh cream, pancakes, bacon, eggs. Even English muffins. Blinking in stunned silence at the overwhelming amount of food that could feed a small army, he just nods to me. “Eat.”

No argument needed here. I dig in.

Theo wastes no time in piling food onto his plate, waiting only long enough to ensure that I place food on my plate first and I can’t help but watch in fascination as the mound of food turns into a small mountain. “What? I burn a lot of calories on the ice.”

Nudged out of my stunned silence, I just nod, taking a bite full of mouth-watering pancakes. We eat in silence for a time, but when I can literally stuff nothing else without the risk of exploding, and he has made a decent dent in his mountain of food, I finally find the nerve to ask the question that has been on the tip of my tongue since he left me alone with my coffee.

“Theo, what is this place?”

He just gazes at me for a moment, a sad half-smile ghosting his lips before being replaced by an expressionless look. “You don’t remember then.”

Confused, my brows furrow as I shake my head.

He sighs, pushing back his plate and leaning back in his chair. A contemplative look crosses his face, and he is quiet for several minutes. I begin to think that he isn’t going to respond at all, but finally, he answers. “It’s our dream house, il mio passerotto. The one we spoke of in those quiet moments, when we would dream of our future together. Once I made it big in the NHL and you had won your Olympic gold. We were going to build a home out in the country, a place with enough rooms for all our loved ones to be able to have their own space when they came to visit.

“One with a closet big enough for all your favorite shoes. A gymnastics studio and small ice rink for me to practice during the off season. Some land, all fenced in, where we could raise our children. Where they could laugh and play and live carefree from the attention of the media and just be kids.”

A wistful expression comes over his features as he is describing to me the home that I had once dreamed of. A refuge and a future with the man that I loved. My chest tightens and my eyes are damp as he continues describing everything I had once dreamed of. It had all been hypothetical, spoken late at night when I lay in his arms after he would make love to me. I would be half asleep and he would ask if I could have anything, anything at all, what my hopes were. And in my drowsy state of contentment, I would let myself dream.

I glance around the room once more, noting all the little details of the breakfast nook. The mugs that I had once added to a wish list online, my favorite brand of coffee on the counter. Furniture that suited my moderate tastes. A tear slips down my cheek unhindered as it hits me that he did this, all of this, for me. We have been apart for seven years; Theo broke up with me but built my dream house and filled it with every item wistfully mentioned during idle conversation. “Theo-” A lump forms in my throat, and I find that I can’t speak any further.

“Yo.” Theo brings a phone to his ear, and I didn’t even realize it had been ringing. “Oh, shit. Yeah man, we’ll be right there.” He hangs up, and glances over to me, expression grim. “We’ve gotta go.”