Page 45 of My Lord
“I like that you’re worried about me. I don’t like that you have a childish attitude and you assume something before you discover the facts,” she whispered as I lowered my face close to hers.
I shrugged. “I’m possessive, I’m a shit sometimes. I have no idea how to treat you the way you should be treated, because I’ve never met anyone like you. I want to protect you and when you don’t let me, I don’t cope well with that.” I rattled off my sentence and then I kissed her.
She gripped the back of my hair and pulled me closer, taking control of my mouth, kissing me hard. She bit at my tongue and my lips and she moaned. I swallowed her moan and mine echoed back. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. I didn’t want to let her go but knew I had to. Our kiss slowed and eventually we leaned against each other and just breathed.
“We’ll find our way, Alex, I know we will,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll battle until we do but if that’s our apology to each other, I’m fine with that.”
I felt her smile against my neck, and I chuckled. “So, you didn’t receive my texts?” I asked.
She pulled away. “No, like I said. I’m too old for those games, Alex.” I frowned and she continued. “Are you sure you were texting my new number? Did you delete the old one when you input the new one?”
I hadn’t, I pulled my mobile from my pocket and showed her the number I had. She rattled off her new one and I changed it. “Jesus, I’ve been acting like a schoolboy,” I said.
“Yes, you have. Now, would you like to come on in?” She smiled and held out her arm. “You can leave your bags there; we’ll take them up later.”
Gabriella and I sat in her kitchen and sipped on red wine. She wanted to cook dinner for me, and I was more than happy for her to do so. It felt peaceful and, dare I believe it, normal. It was the same feeling I’d had in my apartment. It wasn’t the location, I’d determined, but the fact it was her.
“I’m thinking of selling my apartment and buying a house,” I said.
“I thought you liked your apartment,” she replied, as she laid out ingredients for our meal.
“I don’t think I do. It’s simply somewhere to shower and sleep, I guess.”
“I love my house. It would be wonderful if you could find something that makes you love it too.”
I didn’t answer immediately but wondered if that was her way of warning me off from asking her to move in with me.
“Maybe. Do you want me to help?” I asked.
“No, I’ve got this. Relax, there’s more wine here. Go and change if you want to. I’m sure you’ll find the master bedroom easily enough, it’s the only one with a bed in it.” She laughed.
I left her in the kitchen while I took my bags upstairs. She was right, of the five bedrooms, only one had a super king-sized bed in it. One had wardrobes, an endless run of wood, all of which were empty. One had a desk; another was set out as a snug with a couple of chairs and throws facing a large window looking out over the back garden. The last bedroom was just simply empty. I returned to the master room and unpacked my clothes. There was a small dressing room and I was thankful there was space to hang my clothes. Off the bedroom was a large bathroom and I placed my toiletries in the cupboard above the sink, next to hers. I smiled to myself, running my hand over my chin wondering if I should shave.
I stripped off my suit and showered then threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading back downstairs. My hair was wet, and I was sure I’d be able to tie it back; I hadn’t had it cut for a while. Gabriella had her back to me; she was humming as she cooked. I wrapped my arms around her and snuggled into her neck.
“Mmm, that feels nice,” she said.
“Do you want any help?” I asked, looking over her shoulder. She was frying off some strips of steak for fajitas.
“No, all done. Sit yourself down and I’ll plate up.”
I loved messy food, dishes that could be eaten with my hands. It wasn’t something I’d had much of growing up. Every evening meal had been an event back then, correctly dressed attire and three courses as a minimum. I remember getting my first burger at a fast food restaurant and asking where the cutlery was. I told Gabriella that story as I wrapped and ate. Salsa dripped through my fingers and I licked them clean. Gabriella did the same, except, what she did was way more delicate.
I ate much faster than she did and I learned that next time I must slow down. When I sat back and pushed my plate away, she did the same although only half finished.
“Carry on,” I said, indicating to her plate.
“No, I’m done, and it’s rude to continue to eat alone,” she said, chuckling.
“Well, with all the manners instilled in me, that’s a first. Let me clear these dishes.” I stood and gathered the plates, then stood and looked around the kitchen not knowing where to put them.
“Under the sink, to the left,” she said.
I followed instructions and opened a cupboard to find a dishwasher.
I piled everything in and heard her sigh. “Have you ever stacked a dishwasher before?” she asked.
I looked at her and laughed. “No.”
