Page 40 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Celeste

“Celeste.” Julian’s voice rouses me from sleep, the deep timbre warm enough to soften the jolt of waking. “We’re here.”

The scent of saltwater and the slow, steady crash of waves reach me before I even open my eyes.

I straighten, blink away the haze, and squint through the open car door.

“Wow.”

The beach house stretches along the coast, merging modern design with seaside charm. Sleek glass windows reflect the sunlight onto polished surfaces. Every angle seems crafted to highlight the ocean view.

Julian grips my chin and searches my eyes. “You good?”

I nod because I don’t trust my voice.

Three days ago, I thought I’d hallucinated him at my bedside. I hoped I had, at least.

No such luck.

He’s a persistent bastard.

“I have bubbles,” he says, earning a weak laugh from me. The sound vibrates in my chest, tugging at muscles I didn’t know were still sore.

Inside, it’s undeniably Julian, with rich hardwood floors, clean lines, and recessed lighting. A sunken living room with floor-to-ceiling windows opens up to an endless sweep of ocean.

Everything here is masculine but not cold. Intentional yet lived-in.

A place that feels like him.

Before I can take it all in, he’s guiding me up the wide staircase, slowing down when my steps drag.

We pass open doors—bedrooms, a gym, some bathrooms, and an office—until he stops at his bedroom.

Crossing the threshold feels intimate, which is ridiculous considering how many hours I’ve spent tangled up with him.

It smells like him: fresh sheets, expensive cologne, and sea breeze. The view through massive windows, all ocean and horizon, eases something tight in my chest.

I pause at the door. “Okay, I like you again. Being rich has its perks.”

Smiling, he pulls me through the huge bedroom and into the bathroom.

I swear, I actually gasp.

Not only is the shower the size of my entire living room, but the bathtub isn’t just a tub. It’s an indoor lake with jets.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He doesn’t answer because he’s busy opening a cabinet, pulling out a thick robe, and a plush towel like he’s hosting a wellness retreat and not dealing with a woman who thought she was going to bleed to death a few days ago.

“Is that lavender bubble bath?” I ask as he takes it from the vanity.

“My housekeeper stocks the place. I don’t question it.” He pours a generous amount into the tub, filling the room with fragrant bubbles and the calming scent of lavender.

Suddenly feeling weak, I sink onto the closed toilet lid, caught between laughter and tears.

Julian turns with a towel draped over his arm and looks at me, but it’s not in the way most men do. Not like they’re assessing what version of me they’re going to get tonight.

He tilts my chin up with two fingers, brushing his thumb lightly against the curve of my jaw. “Take as long as you need.”

Then, because he’s unfair, he bends, presses a kiss to my forehead, and walks out without another word.

I stare at the door long after he’s gone, heart thudding against my ribs like it’s not sure what to do now.

I’ve had hookups. I’ve had exes. I’ve had men who promised to stick around when things got real and who vanished the second my life got messy.

Yesterday this man admitted he’d been on forum searches, and today he brought me to a spa retreat disguised as his house just because I don’t have a tub .

This man poured lavender bubble bath.

I press a hand to my chest and whisper, “Oh, no.”

This isn’t good.

This is really, really bad.

If I’m not careful, I might go and fall in love with him.

Too late, Celeste.

∞∞∞

I pad out of the bathroom in a plush white robe, my body marginally better after soaking in hot water. The heat dulled the worst of the ache, but the exhaustion lingers, pressing deep into my bones.

I stop short when I see the bed, and my heart does something dangerous.

Everything I could possibly need is laid out neatly on the freshly made bedding—brand-new pajamas with the tags attached, a box of tampons, a pack of pads, my prescription painkillers, a hot water bottle already warm and ready, and a box of my favorite chocolates.

This isn’t sex.

This isn’t casual.

This is someone seeing me. Really seeing me.

Julian appears at the bedroom door.

“Do you always keep fresh period supplies and luxury nightwear on hand for your overnight guests?” I ask, arching a brow like I’m unaffected.

I’m anything but.

“I had someone pick them up.”

“Your assistant?”

“No. I know you’re a private person. I didn’t want to risk some silly office gossip. ”

God, that’s sweet.

“Who?”

“Lena.”

“Lena?” I try not to sound jealous, but it slips out anyway.

He catches it, of course he does. “Wes’s girlfriend.”

Oh. Right. That Lena. “That was very sweet of her. Did she raid an entire store?”

“She’s thorough, and I might have overestimated the list I gave her.”

“I should thank her.”

“I already did,” he says with a smile. “Ordered Rosie a treehouse. Wes will kill me when he sees them arrive to build it.”

My heart twists. “You really love that little girl, huh?”

“I do,” he admits. “What’s the point in having a niece if I can’t spoil her?”

Something shifts in my chest.

“Do you want kids someday?” I blurt before I can talk myself out of it.

“Never really thought about it. It wasn’t something I grew up imagining.” His eyes scan mine like he already senses where this is going. “Do you?”

The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I love kids, but I’ve never had this pull to carry any of my own. Sometimes I think that means I’m not meant to be a mother, but I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet.”

There’s a long silence.

The kind where my own thoughts start to turn on me.

Where every insecurity, every buried fear I’ve managed to keep quiet, claws its way to the surface .

The part that wonders if “maybe, maybe not” is code for “never” in a way that makes me feel less.

Less of a woman. Less of a partner. Just… less.

I drop my gaze, fingers tracing the edge of the robe like it might give me something solid to hold onto.

“I know Dr. Patel told me to think about the surgery, but there’s nothing to think about. I can’t keep living with this pain. I need to do it.”

So, now is your chance to run. I want to say out loud, but I don’t.

But he doesn’t run.

Instead, he pushes off the door and crosses the room until my face is in his hands. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips, grounding me.

When he pulls back, his eyes stay locked on mine. “You’re enough, Celeste, as you are. You don’t have to prove a damn thing to anyone.”

The words land so deep it’s almost painful. I can’t tell if I want to cry, laugh, or kiss him again, so I do none of it. I just nod and try to hold onto the truth in his voice before my doubts start talking again.

I drop my gaze, fingers twisting the hem of the pajama shirt, before I grab them and head back into the bathroom to change.

When I come back, I do a dramatic spin with my arms out. “Well? What do you think?”

Julian’s leaning against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. “Beautiful.”

I roll my eyes and ease onto the bed. My body is still sore, but I’m too full of emotions to focus on it.

“Even with puffy eyes and a uterus staging a coup?” I ask, trying to keep the air from getting too heavy.

He smirks. “Especially then.”

I glance at the clock, then down at myself. “So what now? You’re just going to let me sleep here?”

“Unless you want me to toss you out in your pajamas.”

“Julian, we don’t do… this.”

His expression flickers. “Don’t do what?”

“This.” I gesture between us. “We don’t do sleepovers. You don’t tuck me into bed.”

He pulls back the covers anyway. “Tonight, I do.”

When he helps me into bed, I don’t have the strength to fight him.

He presses a button on the remote, and the blinds come down over the windows until the room is completely dark.

I blink into the void. “Okay, that’s cool. That’s very cool.”

“Wait until you see the mood lighting in the sex dungeon.”

I gasp. “You do not have a sex dungeon.” I think about it. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me. “Do you?”

He brushes his lips across my forehead. “No, but now I want one,” he whispers. “My office is down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

But I don’t, because for the first time in a long time, I already have everything I need.

So I do as I’m told, and I sleep.