Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(63)

Jesse jammed his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you cut the guy some slack? He looks like he’s on the edge already. All nervy and twitchy. I don’t like it.”

“No, but you like the money, don’t you, Jess?” Cliff was smiling through a haze of blue smoke. “You didn’t seem all that concerned about poor Dave’s mental health when I cut you your share last month.”

Jesse shrugged. “Just think it’s getting a little out of hand is all.” He glanced at Cliff from the corner of his eye. “You really going to off this writer guy?”

Cliff blew smoke out through his nose. “It’ll never come to that.”

“How do you know? Thirty grand?” Jesse blew air out of his cheeks. “What if Mendón catches him taking it?”

“Then the party’s over, fun while it lasted, no harm, no foul. Dave wouldn’t tattle on us after the fact. He wouldn’t want to put Mendón ‘in danger.’ You saw him, right? The fag’s obviously in love with the guy.”

Jesse opened his mouth to say more but Cliff was getting that look in his eye—the one he usually got right before he called in his ‘little’ brother to crack some skulls.

“All right, you’re the boss,” Jesse said, holding up his hands. He turned to go.

“How’s Marietta feeling? Better?”

Jesse stopped, his back to Cliff. “Yeah, better. Thanks.”

“That extra money is helping to pay down some of those medical bills, yes?”

“Yeah, Cliff. It is.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Your cut of thirty grand would help even more, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, boss. Thanks.” Jesse went out and held the door as it closed. Sometimes it slammed shut if one wasn’t careful and that pissed Cliff off.

He made sure it didn’t.





Chapter TwentyNine


The sun was warm on Julian’s face; his immense windows were streaming with sunlight. Dust motes danced, and in his hand the velvet box turned over and over. He smiled. All of the pieces in his life were coming together, converging on one point in the not-too-distant future. He couldn’t see it clearly yet; it was a starburst on a vast horizon. The new book, the end of his anonymity, and Natalie…His hand holding the box squeezed.

It was so easy, it was almost frightening. He had only to do his work and love her and the rest would fall into place. He could hear her laughter, taste her on his lips, and he marveled that she was his.

Julian opened the box. The sunlight was caught and refracted in a thousand tiny prisms that seemed to have no end to their depth. His pulse quickened and he snapped the box shut again, turned over and over in his hand. He rested his chin on the other, his fingers concealing the pensive smile.

I already asked and she said yes.

It didn’t count, of course. A whim. His love for her had prompted the words to pour out, and she’d been half asleep and unaware, not comprehending. But she’d said yes, and it had thrilled his heart, and solidified the certainty he’d had almost since the first night they’d spoken: that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He’d bought the ring half-wondering why he hadn’t bought it sooner, and cherished the hope she’d say yes when he asked again, properly.

The front door beeped and then opened, pulling Julian from his thoughts. David came in, carrying some small parcels and two coffees, the white cups branded with the familiar green mermaid.

“Morning, Julian,” David said, and gave a quick glance around. “Natalie here?”

Julian could hear him strain to sound casual. “No, David. She’s not. She’s in class.”

“Okay,” David said. “I just didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. You never are.” Julian felt warm all over. “I think you know by now that I plan on going public. Everything will change when the new book is published, but please don’t fear you’ll be lost in the shuffle. I want you to remain a part of my life, as employee and friend. I mean that.”

A flicker of a smile came and went on David’s face. “It’s just going to take some time to get used to, I suppose. When, uh…when do you think the book will be finished? A couple months?”

“I thought so,” Julian said. He extricated himself from the sunbeam with a stretch and went to his desk in the library. He flipped open the first page of the first of five composition books. “But now I’m thinking it might be sooner.” He bit his lip, reading over the first lines. “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I think this is my best work yet.”

“Sooner?”

Julian shut the book. “I think so. I don’t believe it’s going to take me as long to polish it up as I had thought. It sort of…flooded out of me in a rush and I don’t believe there’s too much I want to change.”

“That’s nice,” David said and busied himself with something behind the kitchen counter.

Julian smiled. David had never cared for the particulars of his writing beyond handling the income it generated. He hadn’t an artist’s heart. Not like Natalie. Natalie who loved her numbers, who could order the world with their exactness and yet see infinities between them. His hand found the box he had stuffed into his pocket.