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“I can’t help it. And despite what you think, I understand how you feel.”

Next, I call my father. My stomach is in knots while it rings, and then I relax when it goes to voicemail. I don’t normally leave messages, but I do this time.

“Dad, it’s me. I’m sorry for what I said. I wish you’d told me the truth about where she was. But I understand why you didn’t. I also hope you know that whatever she and I might have become… I know I’ve only got oneparent. I know there’s no amount of money that would persuade you to leave my side. I love you. I’m sorry I haven’t been there. I miss you. And I hope you’ll consider staying. I need you. Okay. Sorry for the long message. I’m becoming more like you every day, I guess. Bye.”

I stroll back in to wait for the food. “Omar, what’s up?” Dominic greets as I walk in.

“Nothing, getting dinner and heading home.”

“We miss having Jules upstairs. How’s she doing?”

“Fine. Settling in.” I snap my fingers as a thought occurs to me. “You know, I think I left a book in her flat. Can I go up and look or do you have a tenant in already?”

He frowns. “No, Jules is still on the lease. She didn’t want to end it early, and it had six months on it.”

“Oh, okay. I must have forgotten. I’ll go check and be right back.” I walk into the flat and flip the switch by the door. A small halogen lamp in the corner comes on. But as the room brightens up, I notice for the first time how small and dimly lit her flat is. Maybe it’s because she’s not here to brighten and expand it the way she does every space she enters. Like she has my heart. I can’t wait for her to meet my family and friends.

When she comes back from this work trip, I’ll ask her if she wants to come to Houston for Christmas. It’s six weeks away now, so hopefully she’ll be able to take a break. I grab a slice of Jodi’s famous rum cake and head home.

CHAPTER 19

GASLIGHT AND GHOSTS

Jules

As soon as Omar leaves,I go upstairs to run us a nice hot bath. The tub in his huge ensuite, which takes up half of the third floor, was delivered and installed last week. Tonight feels like the perfect time to christen it.

I turn on the shower and pull off my clothes while it heats up. My phone rings, and I run to grab it in case it’s Omar. “Unknown number” flashes on my screen. Despite the warmth of the steam starting to rise from the tub, a shiver leaves gooseflesh all over my naked body.

Whoever it is is going to have to leave a message or send a text before I answer it. I hit the red x on my screen and hop into the shower to rinse off the day. The water pressure here is excellent—Omar complains it’s a little forceful, but to me, it’s like getting a massage. It only takes two minutes before the hot pummel of water starts to work its magic. My body loosens, but my mind is wound tight as a spring trap.

I really fucked up when I moved in with him. It made this heady fall inevitable. We aren’t just physically attracted to each other, wereallylike each other. Reena, my chamber mate, and even Jodi warned me that living together was a bad idea. They said we hadn’t known each other long enough and that we’d ruin what we were building by our households so soon. They were so wrong. It’s been wonderful and easy, and we’re solid as a rock.

But it was still stupid and selfish. I sit on the bench and hold my head in my hands while the water beats me down. I know thishasto end, and I just wanted to enjoy it. And boy have I ever. I’ve been floating through time and space for the past six months. There are days I’m so happy, I wonder if it’s possible to die of it.

But as those blocked number calls started to come with a greater frequency this week, I think the trepidation that replaced my happiness is much more likely to kill me. I’m not floating, I’m careening. There’s a disquiet in my gut that grows more fractious every day. And today, it’s so loud that not even the prospect of a wet, naked Omar can shake it loose.

The conversation about his family was hard. I didn’t do it because I wanted to get him out of the way before Conrad makes landfall. I did it because despite what he was saying, it’s clear the tension with his family is wearing on him. And the distance is a problem for the prospect of work. He has a crisis on his hands, and he’s trying to handle it from here.

I turn off the taps of his hot steaming bath before I slather myself in his coconut lotion and pull on his dark gray, plush bathrobe. It’s too long, and I sling the excess over my arm and carry it downstairs to wait for him.

Halfway down, the doorbell rings, and I laugh knowingly.

He forgot his keys. “Coming,” I sing.

I untie the belt and let the robe fall open. On a stroke of inspiration, I put a hand on my bare hips. I check the mirrorat the foot of the stairs and smile approvingly at the gratuitous display of my entirely naked left half before I fling the door open.

The welcome on my tongue, the laughter in my throat, the joy in my heart shrivel in breathtaking, perfect unison. My worst nightmare has shown up three months earlier than he should have. I clutch the robe closed and hastily retie it. But I don’t take my eyes off Conrad Duncan, not even to blink away the tears pooling in them.

“Hello, Jewel, darling.”

“How did you find me?” I ask even though I already know. That video.Architectural Digest.

His chuckle ruffles the hairs under his nose. “Just because you walk around with that nose of yours up in the air doesn’t mean you’re a god. You can’t command me. Or get rid of me. Or ignore me. I’ve been calling you.”

“Have you?”

He snickers. “As if you didn’t know. Aren’t you going to invite me in? I know your father taught you better manners than that.”