One Weekend with the Billionaire Chapter 60

*Julia*

I hear Braxton’s alarm go off and a flood of memories from the night before come back to me. It’s odd to think about waking up here, in the bedroom of his apartment, when I should be at home, in my old apartment, with Jeff.

I glance at the clock and note that Braxton gets up earlier than Jeff, even though his apartment is much closer to work. I think about how I would still be sleeping for a few more minutes if I were lying next to my husband instead of this man who loves me. I think about how he would swat at his alarm and then roll on top of me. Braxton will not do that, but if he did, it would be welcome because it wouldn’t just be him laying on top of me until he got his fill.

I do not expect for Braxton to make love to me before he goes to work, though. I expect him to get up and get ready for his day, kiss me goodbye, and tell me he’ll be home at 6:00, or something like that. Instead, when I roll over to look at him, his head is propped on one arm and he is staring down at me.

“Good morning,” Braxton says in a husky, sleepy voice.

“Good morning.” I can’t help but smile at him. Everything about him makes me happy. Everything except for the fact that he is not my husband. I wonder if he will ever be. I hope that he will be.

“How did you sleep?” he asks me.

I ponder the question for a moment. He is the only one that has ever asked me this so it seems like a foreign question. “Great,” I finally say. It’s true. I did sleep extremely well, which is surprising. I expected to toss and turn last night, second guessing my choices. Not just my decision to walk out on Jeff but my decision to marry him in the first place.

“Wonderful,” Braxton says with a smile. He brushes a lock of hair away from my cheek, his fingertips grazing my skin and getting my thoughts off track. “What would you like to do today?” he asks me.

I am puzzled by the question. “Don’t you have to go to work?” I ask, sitting up slightly, the sheet that is wrapped around me coming up, too. I see Braxton’s eyes drop to my chest, and he looks a little disappointed that my breasts are still covered.

“I can take the day off,” he says with a shrug.

“I don’t want you to have to do that.” I suddenly feel bad for coming here. I don’t want to distract him from his work.

“I don’t have to do that,” he reminds me with a sly look. “I want to be with you, Julia. I’ve missed you.”

I can’t help but smile. He talks as if it’s been weeks or months since we’ve been together, rather than just a couple of days. “I missed you, too. But really, I don’t want to disrupt your life.” I know it’s silly, but in the back of my mind, I have to consider how he might react if he starts to blame me for a disruption in his work.

“You could never do that,” he says, and I want to completely believe him, but I’ve seen men change before.

“Please, go to work,” I say resting my hand on his arm. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”

I can see in his eyes that he wants to argue with me, but instead, he lets out a sigh and says, “All right. If that’s what you want. Would you like for me to arrange for you to go back to the house, then? You could work on your art. Take a swim, if you’d like.”

Thoughts of the art room I have left behind at Braxton’s mansion come to mind. That was truly a happy place for me. I can’t help but beam at him. “That would be wonderful.”

“Okay. Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll arrange for breakfast in a couple of hours, and then, when you’re ready, you can go home.”

Home. He says that word not like it is his house I am headed to but like it belongs to both of us, like it is our home. My home. I can’t even fathom that being true. Not because the house itself is so large and worth so much money but because the idea that I could live in a place where I am wanted and appreciated, where I can truly feel that I am also home, lifts my spirits almost as much as Braxton has lifted them from the moment I saw him last night. “Thank you,” I say.

“There’s no need to thank me, Julia. I’m just glad that you’re here. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Braxton,” I say to him. He tips his head down and kisses me, and for a moment I wish I haven’t insisted that he go to work. I want him to stay here with his arms around me, making love to me, all day, endlessly.

But that’s not real life, and if we are to have a real life relationship, I need to be able to let him go to work, and I need to figure out what my new life is going to be like. Visions of myself painting, having dinner with him, maybe even volunteering at some charities fill my mind. I can’t believe this is my new life now, but I will cherish every moment of it.