Conception (The Wellingtons #4) - Tessa Teevan Page 0,84
speaks French while chomping on a carrot. “He’s so dreamy.”
“Are you saying I need a beard to be dreamy?” I tease.
She pauses the video home system and then strolls into the kitchen, slinging her arms around my neck and grinning up at me. “You’re absolutely dreamy. I’m just saying that, with a little facial hair, you could be Paul-Newman-almost-showing-his-goods-on-film kinda dreamy. It also makes me wish we had a bathtub we could both fit in.”
The image of naked, wet Amelia straddling my waist in a bathtub awakens my cock.
“Well, the bathroom was done,” I say, tossing her a grin. “You could’ve told me before I decided on a normal-sized bathtub.”
Amelia rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be. Kinda like Larry and Louisa anyway.”
I place my hand over my heart at the memory of Paul Newman’s character being brutally murdered by his mechanical creation. “Technology. It’ll be the death of us all.”
She grins. “The world is a strange place.” The color’s back in her cheeks, and she seems in better spirits.
“How’re you feeling? I ran into Sunny at the grocery store and she insisted I swing by her grandma’s place for her therapeutic chicken noodle soup.”
Amelia’s eyes light up. “Mrs. Mayfield’s chicken noodle soup is to die for. I’m half tempted to tell you I’m still ill so I can keep it all to myself. But really, I’m feeling so much better. I think I was right. Just a touch of food poisoning.” She crosses to the fridge and leans in. “I’m grabbing a drink to go along with my soup. Want anything?”
I want to stay.
I want her.
I want…everything.
“Wellington.”
The one word slipped out before I could stop myself. I want her to know my last name. I need her to know it.
“What?” she asks distractedly as she continues to rummage around in the fridge.
“Uh, Wellington. And tonight… It’s my last night here. I have to leave.”
Amelia stands up so quickly that she hits her head on the inside of the fridge. “Ouch! Dammit,” she cries, and as much as I want to cross to her, take her into my arms, and soothe away the pain, I root myself to the linoleum tile.
“You okay?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds more casual than I’m feeling.
She gently rubs the top of her head. “Yeah, sorry. I’m such a klutz. Umm, what did you say?” she asks absentmindedly as she opens her soda and takes a swig.
It’s a blow, knowing she isn’t affected at the likelihood that this is our last night together, not the way that I am. Part of me wants to brush it off, forget it, enjoy one last fuck before hitting the road. The other part is screaming at me to tell her this isn’t over. It’ll never be over. But the way she continues seemingly without a care of the world causes me to hesitate. I’m not changing the game on her. Not this late into it. I can’t force this on her. Not when I’m leaving. That wouldn’t be fair, would it?
Fuck fair.
I force myself to push the sentiment out of my head. Like a fucking coward.
With a deep exhale, I decide to just rip off the bandage. “After you left, I got a call from my mom. My dad suffered a heart attack earlier this afternoon.”
Amelia’s eyes widen, and I rush to continue.
“He’s okay. Or, well, he’s going to be. But…he’s going to be laid up for a while. He needs me to go back to Nashville to help with the business while he’s recovering.”
I study her reaction, hoping, praying she’ll give me some kind of signal that she’s not ready for this to end.
She gives me nothing save empathy and somber eyes. “Knox, of course you have to go. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”
You.
Tell her.
I shake my head, not sure if the action’s more for her or myself. “All that’s left to do is give the place a good clean. I’ll hire someone.”
“I’ll do it,” she offers.
“I can’t ask that of you. Especially not with you getting sick there today.”
“I want to. I insist.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with her over this. “If you’re sure. You know where the extra key is. Just use that.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
I swallow hard. “I’ve already packed. I’ll leave straight from here first thing in the morning.”
The words hang in the air between us for what feels like an eternity. I’m grateful when she breaks the uneasy silence.