A Cosmic Kind of Love(95)

It was a perfect moment.

Until his cell phone rang loudly in the living room.

“Ignore it.” He kissed me.

As his mouth worked its way down my neck to my chest again, the phone stopped ringing.

Then started up again.

Chris groaned, resting his forehead against my stomach.

I sighed heavily. “Someone clearly wants you. You better answer it.”

Grumbling, he kissed my stomach before rolling off me. “Be right back.”

As satisfied as a cat lazing in a sunspot, I watched his fine naked ass walk out of my bedroom to retrieve his phone.

A few seconds later, he returned, phone in hand, frowning at it.

“Who is it?”

His wary look alerted me. Before he could reply, the phone rang again. “It’s Darcy.”

Ignoring the niggle of unease her name produced, I forced myself to be mature about it. “Well, she’s called three times, so you better pick up.”

That Chris looked genuinely put out that our moment had been interrupted eased my feelings of less than attractive possessiveness.

“Darce, hey.” He answered as he crawled back into bed with me and pulled me into his arms. I felt his arm tense around me. “Whoa, okay, slow down.”

Her voice was loud through his phone, her unintelligible words sounding fast and slightly hysterical. Concern filled me as I watched Chris’s expression.

“Darce, are you drunk?”

Uh-oh.

“Okay, where are you? . . . Right . . . Stay there. . . . No, stay, I’m coming to get you. . . . Yeah, stay there. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and fell back against the pillows. “Fuck!”

“What’s going on?”

“They broke up. Her and Matthias. She’s wasted and suddenly panicked because she’s so wasted and by herself at some bar in the city.”

I tried not to be irritated that she’d called Chris and focused on my disbelief that she and Matthias had broken up. “But they seemed so in love.” Every time I’d met with them, they were holding hands and staring adoringly into each other’s eyes.

The wedding!

Oh my God, the wedding.

This would be all over the papers.

Poor Darcy.

“How did this happen?”

Chris pushed up off the bed and dressed. When he looked at me, his gaze darted down my naked body, and he started muttering curse words under his breath again.

“Chris?”

His eyes moved from my breasts to my face. “Their timing is the worst.”

“So this just came out of nowhere?”

“No.” He shrugged on his T-shirt. “Darcy’s been calling these past few weeks because their relationship has been rocky.”

Chris really was her confidant now? I swallowed down my irritation because I wasn’t the one whose relationship had just imploded. “I hope she’s okay. Will you text me when you find her?”

Chris’s expression softened as he leaned down to kiss me. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Yes. And it was very climactic.”

He chuckled and pressed another kiss or three to my lips. “Right. I need to go.” He reluctantly straightened but winced in regret when he looked at me again. “Please be naked when I get back.”

“You got it.”

Then, a minute later, he was gone. To rescue his ex-girlfriend.

“I’m okay with that,” I announced loudly and somewhat aggressively to my room. “I’m more than okay with that.” Instead of dwelling, I distracted myself with optimistic thoughts of Matthias and Darcy getting back together. For their sake and mine.

And for the sake of the deposit they’d put down on the Blenheim estate.

But mostly for their sake.

Chris loved me.

I had zero to worry about.





THIRTY-SEVEN





Chris


    Scott Rose <[email protected]>

To: [email protected]

Hi Chris,

I’ve sent the book proposal to the editors we discussed. Now we just sit tight and see what offers come in. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.

All best,

Scott



I reread Scott’s email, trying to take heart in his optimism that offers would definitely come in for the book. Logically, I knew he was probably right. One, he understood the publishing industry better than I did, and two, I wouldn’t be the first astronaut to have his autobiography published.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous. I’d decided after all to include everything. Including my thoughts about being a trailblazer who felt an aching disconnection to his cultural heritage. I just hoped that by the time the book released, things would be in a place with my father where we could weather the fact that I’d put personal details like that in the book.

Those were my words on the page. What if these editors thought I was boring or a terrible writer?

It was an unusual sensation for me to feel so much uncertainty about something I’d worked hard on.

I didn’t like it.

My cell beeped, drawing my focus. I was almost thankful until I saw it was a text from Tom.

    Chris, just checking in. Hope to hear from you soon. We have to choose someone in two weeks.