“Come sit down, Isabella,” she gestured to the empty seat next to her. “We’ve got loads to discuss about the next week and a half. I hope you don’t have anything planned.”

“No, of course not. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyways. All I do is sit around the house and clean and cook and you know what? It’s not even important.”

She smiled.

“Well good,” she turned to her right and pulled a big, thick white binder out of her bag, setting it on the table. “Today we’ve got a meeting with the event coordinator and the decorator at Gotham Hall to go over the final details for the reception. Then we need to head to St. Bart’s to meet with the florist to talk about the flower arrangements. I thought that maybe we could grab some lunch. Oh, and we need to come back here and finalize the table settings. Also, sometime this week we need to get together and square away the seating chart,” she explained as she flipped through the pages of the binder of doom.

“Oh…” my eyes scanned the pages of the binder. “Sounds like you have a whole day planned for us.”

“Do you have room for me?” he asked shyly.
When I opened my eyes, he was leaning against the sink, his long legs crossed at his ankles, dark gray boxers hanging low on his hips.

The candle light flickered across the surface of the water and cast a glow around the small bathroom.

He looked like a god perched against the sink, his taut stomach muscles bunching and the defined muscles of his arms flexing as they crossed over his broad chest. I didn’t think I would ever get use to how beautiful he was.

“I don’t know,” I teased as I ran my palms along the top of the water, creating little waves along the surface of the bubbles. “It might cost you.”

“Oh really?” he asked as he quirked one eyebrow up. “And what would the charge be?”

“Hmm…” I brought one soapy fingertip to my chin and tapped for effect as I hummed. “A massage?”

He chuckled lightly as he stood up and began to pull his boxers down his legs slowly. I was transfixed as his erection popped into view and hit his abdomen lightly as his boxers pooled at his feet.

“I think I can handle that.”

Tears instantly sprang to my eyes again, for the.. well I've lost count of how many times tonight I've cried. I should never have opened that letter. I should have LOOKED at what was on the front of it. I should have noticed on the return to sender part on the back it had a US address. I should have noticed the freaking handwriting even. But I hadn't, I had just giggled at some story Laurent was telling and ripped open the end of the envelope, pulled out the thick card and choking back tears of laughter. I'd started to read. "Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too."