Page 109 of Inevitable

I switched the phone to my other ear and wiped down the counter. Maybe love really didn’t conquer all. I’d been naïve to think my dad would accept my relationship with Jonathan.

“Well, I appreciate it,” I said, tossing the sponge in the sink. “And I’m sorry if you feel caught in the middle.”

“Thanks. Look…” She was quiet a moment, and then her voice was softer. “Don’t give up yet. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what her tricks involved, so I left it at, “Thanks, Lea. You’re the best.”

“I have to run, but I’ll see you on the twenty-second, even if it’s just a girls’ trip.”

I nodded before remembering she couldn’t see me. “I’d like that.”

We ended the call, and while I was grateful to have Lea in our corner, that didn’t change the fact that my dad still hadn’t called, hadn’t texted or emailed since his birthday. Despite numerous attempts on my part—and Jonathan’s—to reach out, my dad wouldn’t respond. I was beginning to wonder if he ever would.

I knew he was hurt. But why couldn’t he just give Jonathan and me a chance, especially since I was willing to forgive him for what he’d done?

As disappointed as I was, I reminded myself of all the things I had to be grateful for. I was pursuing my MBA and excited about the future. And I was building a house, a life, with the man of my dreams. A man who supported my dreams.

When I heard the hum of the air compressor from upstairs, I decided to go investigate. I pushed open the door to the future master bedroom and found Jonathan adjusting his safety glasses. I’d thought he was sexiest in a suit, but I’d been wrong. Watching his forearms flex as he built something for our home was so much hotter. I leaned against the doorframe and observed him for a minute before he realized I was standing there.

He removed his safety glasses and stepped over some boards to kiss my cheek. “Hey. I’m almost done in here.”

“It’s looking really good,” I said, admiring the built-in shelves he was working on.

He rested his hands on his hips, surveying his hard work. “It feels good.”

I grinned, filled with pride for this man. He’d seemed much happier, much lighter since selling the Wolfe Group. And while I knew the situation with my dad pained him, renovating our house helped.

“I just talked to Lea,” I said. “She doesn’t think they’re going to make it for Christmas.”

Jonathan ran a hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat. “I figured as much.”

“I just hoped—” I started to tear up, and he pulled me into a hug.

“I know, baby.”

“Ew. Gross,” I teased, pushing him away. I didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to dwell on this.

“Oh, come on.” He stalked toward me, reaching out for me. “I don’t smell that bad.”

I laughed, backing my way toward the door. “Um. Yeah, you do. Go shower. Dinner’s almost ready.”

He grabbed me, pulling me against him with my back to his front. “I’d rather eat you.”

My core quivered with anticipation. “Mm. I like the sound of that. How about we eat dinner, then you can have me for dessert?”

“Or…” He tugged on the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head. “You could join me in the shower.”

“I guess dinner can wait,” I teased, knowing the soup could simmer a while longer.

We undressed each other slowly, and when I stepped into the shower, I was reminded of our time in New York. Water sprayed over my body, and he tracked my every move. And yet, this was nothing like that morning—when his touch was punishing and his eyes swirled with regret. He was tender now as he worshiped my body, whispering words of love as I fell apart in his arms.

A few days later, I was putting the finishing touches on one of Jonathan’s presents when the doorbell rang. I furrowed my brow and headed to answer the door, figuring it was just another delivery. I peered through the peephole and shook my head, positive I was hallucinating.

I looked again. Shook my head. Then I opened the door. “Dad?”

There was no way he was just “in the area.” Palo Alto was a five-hour-plus drive from LA in good conditions.

“Hey.” He kept his eyes focused on the doormat, which was red with the word “Merry” printed in a cursive font.