Chapter 39: Miracles

"The wine, I guess."

It was the only reasonable answer Naomi could give him. The truth was that meeting his family had done something strange to her.

Something she did not particularly want to examine. She had spent the evening surrounded by people who genuinely liked one another. People who somehow still wanted to be in the same room after decades of knowing one another.

For a little while, Naomi had found herself wondering what it would feel like if this were real. Being surrounded by all these good people and actually belonging there.

"I think we should keep you away from alcohol before we have a repeat of Vegas."

"What’s the worst that could happen? We’re already married."

"In three months, you could produce a birth certificate."

"You’re so daft."

Dorian smiled. That was more like it. He shifted away from her and got back into bed. She adjusted the covers as he settled beside her. He was respectful enough to leave space between them. He turned his head toward her. "With you, miracles do happen."

"It was nice meeting your family. You all seem so content."

Dorian thought about that. "I guess we are." He folded one arm behind his head. "We’re all so driven with our jobs. Doing something bigger than whatever we did yesterday. So we leave most of it at the door when we come here. I used to like coming home," he added.

"Used to?"

"Yeah." He looked toward the ceiling. "It became too much after everything. My family worried more. Every time I came here, someone wanted to know if I was okay. It was... exhausting."

"They love you," Naomi said. "You shouldn’t take that for granted."

Dorian turned his head and looked at her. "I guess. Tell me about your plans for Ginny’s wedding."

Naomi brightened instantly. "Well, it’s ultimately up to her and what she wants. I gave her suggestions..."

Dorian closed his eyes. And so it began. She explained the menu possibilities, had opinions about everything. He occasionally made a sound that Naomi took as encouragement, which only made her continue.

"Dorian?"

He was asleep. Naomi smiled and shifted slightly closer. Her gaze settled on the little mole near his eyebrow.

She had noticed it in Vegas. There was something about it that constantly made her want to reach out. Her hand lifted.

Then stopped. What exactly was she doing? This was stupid. Her fingers lowered without touching him.

But she leaned closer anyway. Just a little. She pressed a very, very light kiss against the mole above his eyebrow.

Then whispered,

"Goodnight, Painfully Rich."

He had no idea how well that name suited him now. Dorian Heathcliffe was rich in ways the idiot didn’t even appreciate.

*****

Callum’s incessant calls were beginning to irritate Dorian. He had woken up just after six that morning and found Naomi still asleep on her side of the bed.

At some point during the night, she had apparently decided the covers were her property and proceeded to acquire almost all of them.

Dorian had woken with one corner of the duvet covering approximately half his leg while Naomi lay curled comfortably beneath the rest. He pulled himself out of bed having no intention of waking her.

For one, he needed to get back into the office. He showered, shaved and dressed while Naomi slept.

Then her phone started vibrating. He ignored it. The first time and the second. By the fifth, he glanced toward the sofa where she had left it the night before.

The screen went dark. Then immediately lit up again.

Callum Sterling.

By the time he was fully dressed, the bloody thing had rung at least twenty times. Who called someone twenty times before seven in the morning unless there was a death, a kidnapping or a complete absence of self-respect?

Naomi shifted slightly beneath the covers. The phone vibrated again. Dorian crossed the room.

The phone went silent just as he reached it. He waited. It rang again.

"Jesus Christ." He picked it up. He had absolutely no business answering Naomi’s phone. He knew that.

Twenty calls before breakfast, however, felt like a public nuisance. He stepped into the hallway and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him before answering.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Dorian demanded.

"What... what are you doing with her phone?"

The question was so stupid Dorian didn’t even bother responding. What did he think?

"Where is she?" Callum demanded. "Where did you take her?"

Dorian’s brows drew together. The phrasing irritated him immediately. "What do you want?"

"I need to see her. She isn’t at her apartment."

Ah.

The fool didn’t know. He leaned against the hallway wall. Naomi had called off the engagement, but apparently she had neglected to mention one fairly significant detail.

"Why would she be there?" Dorian asked. "She lives with her husband now." He could practically hear Callum’s brain failing on the other end of the line.

"What? That’s..."

Then Callum’s voice suddenly moved away from the phone.

"Dad!"

For fuck’s sake. The man suddenly sounded twelve.

"Dad!"

Dorian had heard enough. He ended the call, and returned to the bedroom. She had rolled slightly toward his side now, one arm stretched across the empty space he had occupied. His gaze landed on her hand.

Last night returned with the impromptu kiss sealed into his memory. He placed her phone back on the sofa exactly where he had found it.

Then left before he could stand there thinking about waking her up in all the creative ways he had dreamt off during the night.

When Dorian reached the dining area, Maurice was already there. Dorian walked past the table, reached for a slice of toast and took a bite.

"Morning, Dad."

Maurice looked up. "Morning."

Dorian looked his father over while reaching for the coffee pot. Maurice Heathcliffe sat at the breakfast table in a robe, looking far too comfortable for a Monday morning.

It was unsettling.

"Retirement doesn’t suit you."