Mid Life Love: At Last Read online

  “Not yet. I’m leaving my office now. But as soon as I get there, I’m going to take a nice, long shower to get ready for this weekend.”

  “Don’t leave. I’ll come get you.” I hung up and sent Angela an email, canceling the rest of my day. Then I looked up at Corey. “Remind me to ask you about Hayley’s asshole boyfriend when I get back.”

  “Oh my goddd...Ohhh myyy—Oh my god...Jonathannn...” Claire moaned as I gripped her hips and moved her back and forth. “I....I...” She shut her eyes and cried out, louder and louder.

  I watched as she let go the same moment I did, as she sucked in breath after breath and collapsed against my chest.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of taking the scenic route with you...” I rubbed my hands against her bare back. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes...” She murmured and nodded her head, still breathing heavily.

  I waited until she completely calmed down before pulling her up and helping her back into her dress. I ran my fingers through her hair and sighed as I pushed one of her clips back into place.

  “You seem tense...” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

  “What makes you think I’m not okay?”

  “Because you’re making the face you always make when something’s bothering you...Is it the CS account?”

  I raised my eyebrow.

  “I eavesdropped a few nights ago...You were talking on the phone in bed and I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Hmmm. Well, yes, it is the CS account. Would you like to offer your advice on landing the biggest deal I’ve ever pursued?”

  “Sure.” She sat in my lap. “How much is it worth?”

  “Why is that always your first question?” I laughed as she scrunched her face in anticipation of an answer. “It’s worth more than my entire company. A lot more...I would be twice as rich if I landed it.”

  Her eyes widened. “What happens if you don’t land it?”

  “I guess I would have to figure something else out...You want to come back to Statham Industries to help me if that happens?”

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Can I have a hint about where we’re going this weekend?”

  “No.” I kissed her lips. I was tempted to have Greg take us on another scenic route, but I held back.

  For the rest of the ride we slipped into the familiar silence that we’d grown accustomed to sharing—a special silence that no one else could possibly understand.

  “Mr. Statham?” Greg’s voice came through the speaker.

  “Yes, Greg?”

  “We’ve arrived sir.”

  The car came to a sudden halt and I adjusted Claire’s straps again.

  Greg opened the door and reached for her hand, helping her to step out. Then he directed the other men that were standing nearby to load our bags onto my plane.

  I placed my hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Are you sure about flying today?”

  “Is this the best way to get there?” she whispered.

  I nodded and held her hands. “But there’s always a Plan B. You know that.”

  Even though she’d assured me that she was on better terms with her flight phobia, I wasn’t completely sold so I always took precautions. If she looked uncomfortable or hesitant for one second, I called the whole trip off; I’d had to do that four times over the past few months.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “I promise.”

  I studied her eyes for several seconds more, watching for signs of uncertainty, hints of fear.

  When I didn’t see any, I walked her over to the steps and slowly led her up and into the plane. I motioned for her to sit down and pulled out the “Pre-Flight Words” paper that she’d received in therapy.

  “I need you to read it aloud, Claire.” I held her hand and waited until she’d recited every word, until she gave me a look of assurance that said she was okay with this.

  I nodded at the pilot and sat down in the seat next to her.

  “DeLille Chaleur Estate Blanc to drink, Miss Gracen?” The flight attendant checked our seat belts.

  “That would be great.” Claire leaned against me.

  She fell asleep before the flight attendant returned and didn’t wake up until we stopped at a re-fueling point.

  “We’re here?” she asked.

  I shook my head and offered her some of my food, but she leaned against me and fell asleep again.

  “Did you put something in my dinner yesterday, Jonathan?” Claire rolled across the bed and looked up at me.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never slept like that before...And I remember you carrying me off the plane when it landed. Did you put something in my food?”

  “No, Claire.” I walked over and kissed her. “It’s called being tired. You work all damn day every day and we did have sex twice before the flight. If I thought I had to drug you to get you to fly, then you wouldn’t fly. It was only a ten hour flight.”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry...Where are we?”

  “Take a look.” I pulled the floor to ceiling drapes open and watched as her eyes took in everything.

  We were staying right on the edge of clear blue waters, in the biggest villa the island had to offer. To the left of us was a beach of sprawling white sand and sky high palm trees. And in the distance there were rows of hidden bungalows, tucked beneath miles of lush greenery.

  “What’s the name of this place?” She slid the glass door open and stepped out onto the balcony.

  “St. Kitts and Nevis.”

  “Could you put that in terms that a non-billionaire who hasn’t traveled the world can understand?”

  I wrapped my arms around her waist and laughed. “Southern Caribbean.”

  She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but then she stood on her toes and kissed me, pressing herself against my chest like she wanted to take this further.

  “Wait...” I slowly pulled away. “I want to take you down to the other part of the beach. Leave your shoes.”

  “Can I change first?”

  I nodded and kissed her again before she slipped back into the suite. Leaning against the railing, I looked out into the sunset and shook my head at the couple that was attempting to kayak without a paddle.

  I was trying my best to distract myself from the looming CS account, but it was all I could think about.

  “I’m ready now.” The sound of Claire’s voice made me turn around and—I stopped.

  She was wearing a tightly fitted short white dress that hugged her in all the right places, a dress that flowed with each short gust of wind that blew past us. It was strapless and thin enough to where I could see the bright red bikini she was wearing underneath.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I do.” I reached for her hand and led her down the shore.

  We paused ever so often to take in the waves or watch another couple run into the water. We were halfway down the shore when I walked her over to a small clearing that was hidden away from everything else.

  I slipped my arm around her waist and sighed.

  “You promised me that you weren’t going to do any work while we were on this trip, Jonathan...” She looked up at me.

  “I did, and I meant that.”

  “Does that promise not cover when I’m sleeping?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I was going in and out of consciousness when we had that layover. I heard you talking about the CS account again...We could have pushed this trip back if you were that worried about the deal. You’ve pushed things back for my projects before.”

  “Claire...” I released her hips and shook my head. “There is no CS account.”

  “What? So what have you been doing for the past eight weeks?” She paled. “Is that—you made up the biggest deal of your career to...to do what? Why? Why would you lie to me?”

  “CS stands for you, Claire...It stands for what I want—what I need you to be.”

  She raised her eyebrow in confus
ion, shaking her head as if she didn’t understand.

  I gently grabbed her hand and got down on one knee. “Claire...” I stopped once she gasped. “I need you to know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing. Ever. And I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you.” I resisted the urge to stand up and wipe away her tears. “I fell in love with you the moment we stopped at those vacation rental houses in San Fran, the moment I realized whatever it was between us was more than physical. Much more. And I—” I felt her trembling.

  “I told myself that no matter how much you frustrated me, no matter how much you tried to deny that you were falling in love with me too, that I would never let you go.”

  “Jonathan...” She was crying.

  “This is the biggest deal of my life and it’s worth much more than my company or any other billion dollar deal that’s come across my desk. And I can’t go another day without knowing.” I pulled the eighteen carat ring out of my pocket. “I want you to be mine—officially. I want you to be Claire Statham.” I paused for a few seconds. “Claire...Will you marry me?”

  “Yes. Yes!” She joined me down in the sand as I slipped the ring onto her finger.

  I kissed her lips—again and again, wiping all her tears away with my fingertips, stifling her cries with more kisses.

  When we finally pulled away to catch a breath, we simply stared at one another in silence, smiling. Then I pulled her on top of me.

  “What are you thinking about?” I looked into her eyes.

  “You...How do you think Claire ‘Gracen-Statham’ sounds?”

  “Like it’ll never happen.” I narrowed my eyes. “It’s an all or nothing deal.”

  “Is your jealousy included in the package?”

  “It’s the best part.”

  “Hmmm...” She smiled. “How many days do I need to set aside for negotiations and paperwork?”

  “Paperwork?”

  “Yeah...” She lowered her voice. “I’m not silly enough to believe that you won’t draft a pre-nup for this. I mean, I’m sure you wouldn’t rake me over the coals if you and I didn’t work out, but—”

  “Stop.” I pressed my finger against her mouth. “There is no pre-nup. And there won’t be one. Ever.”

  She gasped.

  “This is forever, Claire. Do you understand? It’s you and me, together forever, until the very end.” I kissed her lips. “Would you like a wedding?”

  She nodded.

  “A big one?”

  She nodded again.

  “Okay.” I smiled. “We can plan that the second we get back. In the meantime...” I slipped my hands underneath her dress and untied the strings of her bikini top. “I’d like to explore the future Mrs. Statham right now.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you over and over that sand and sex don’t go together.”

  “I remember you saying that...” I ripped off the bottom of her swimsuit. “But I’d like to find out for myself.”

  Mid Life Love: At Last

  Whitney G.

  Friday August 15, 2014

  Jonathan

  Claire drives me fucking insane...

  I’m sitting next to her at Timeless, Weddings Inc.—an event planning firm, listening to her ask the director a list of never-ending questions: “How many people do you have on your staff?” “How confident are you about finding us the perfect venue?” “What’s the highest budget you’ve ever worked with?”

  Even though it looks like I’m paying attention to everything the director says—casually glancing up and making eye contact every now and then, my attention is definitely elsewhere. The only thing I can think about is the woman at my side and how, although she is undoubtedly the love of my life and the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, she never ceases to find new ways to frustrate the shit out of me.

  I’ve given her three months to marry me and in the past five days she’s managed to schedule us for twenty three catering interviews, forty wedding venue showings, and sixteen cake testing appointments. She’s turned my parlor room into a hoarding cell for hundreds of bridal magazines and fabric swatches, and every day when she gets home she insists on showing me the newest wedding ideas she’s found on Pinterest and YouTube.

  “What do you think about that, Jonathan?” Claire interrupts my thoughts.

  “What do I think about what?”

  “Having a celebrity singer at the wedding and the reception. Two different ones...Would that cost too much? ”

  “We can have whatever you want, Claire.” I hold back a sigh and she smiles.

  I’ve told her over and over how I don’t need—much less want a damn wedding, but I know it’ll make her happy so I’m willing to spend however much it costs.

  “It was a pleasure having you two here today, Mr. Statham and Miss Gracen.” The director stands up and shakes our hands. “I hope to be chosen as the director of your wedding.”

  Claire says a few more words to the woman and then the two of us leave the room hand in hand.

  “Is this the last meeting for today, or do we need to meet with every wedding firm in the city before you make up your mind?”

  She rolls her eyes. “There’s two more and then we’re done. Oh, and don’t forget about our pre-marital counseling session. I scheduled it for tomorrow morning at nine.”

  Marriage counseling. That’s another thing she’s doing, another thing that’s completely unnecessary. Outside of her testing my nerves every so often, we don’t have any serious problems and we don’t need any counseling.

  As a matter of fact, I’m going to make her cancel those appointments. Marriage counseling is for couples with trust issues, couples who lack intimacy and have problems connecting. As soon as we get back into my car, I’m going to show her just how well we connect. Literally.

  Chapter 1

  Claire

  “We don’t need pre-marital counseling, Claire.” Jonathan looked over at me as the elevator doors closed. “This is a waste of time.”

  “I didn’t say we needed it. I said we should try it—to make sure we both have honest expectations about being married.”

  “And what expectations are those?”

  “You’ll find out when we get there.” I smiled at him and he rolled his eyes.

  I’d told him I wanted to attend a few sessions before we got married—something Ryan and I didn’t do, just to make sure we were on the same page about a few things. Of course, he was one hundred percent against the idea, but after I told him it would make me “happy,” he slowly gave in.

  We were scheduled for a two hour session with the top counseling firm in San Francisco—Waldo and Emerson Associates. The doctors had assured me that it would be a light and easy process and that Jonathan and I would come out of it feeling closer than before.

  As our elevator came to a stop and the doors glided open, I realized that there was nothing ahead of us. There was no secretary’s desk, no simple sign that read “Waldo & Emerson,” nor was there anything that resembled any sort of professional counseling business. Instead, the entire floor was covered in white sand, the few clear columns that stood ten feet apart were filled with colorful fish, and there were three beige beanbags that surrounded a small makeshift fire-pit.

  Before I could accuse Jonathan of tampering with our session, a man dressed in an all-white tunic stepped in front of us.

  “Ahhhh,” he said, smiling. “The future Mr. and Mrs. Statham. Welcome to Waldo pre-marital counseling. I’m Dr. Choate and I’ll be assisting you through the first stage of unity today.”

  “Wait a minute. I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “We’re supposed to be meeting a Dr. Clinton. Is this the wrong floor?”

  “No. You’re in the right place. This is it.”

  “Then where is Dr. Clinton?”

  “He retired last week. He didn’t send you an email?”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh, well sorry about that. The company decided to hire me in his place the same day
that he left. After all my success with the Zen rituals at Statham Industries, they thought I was the best choice.” He reached out to shake Jonathan’s hand. “That’s why it’s an absolute honor to bestow my new and exclusive Zen practices with the man who made me a household name.”

  Oh god...

  He instructed for us to take our shoes off and then he led us over to the bean bags.

  “So...” He put on a pair of glasses and looked at a sheet of paper. “Miss Gracen, I see that you’ve signed up for the two hour session. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when asked what you wanted the main focus to be on...” He flipped the paper over. “You said that you two are having problems in the intimacy department?”

  Jonathan quickly turned his head to face me, raising his eyebrow.

  “NO. I never said that. I said that—”

  “Ah, ah, ah. It’s right here. My secretary never makes a mistake.”

  “You don’t even have a—”

  “Shhh.” He leaned forward and pressed a black pen against my lips. “Don’t be ashamed of your bedroom problems, Miss Gracen. Every couple has them in some form or another. That’s what today‘s all about.”

  I could feel Jonathan glaring at me, begging me to look his way so he could say something, but I kept my eyes straight ahead.

  “If you’re hurting about something—anything at all, no matter how small it is, these next two hours are the perfect time to let it out.” He took a deep breath. Then he shut his eyes and slowly exhaled. “Let it all out.”

  He sat like that for at least two minutes—shut eyes, Indian style, head tilted up to the ceiling, and I signaled to Jonathan so we could leave and end this joke of a session, but Dr. Choate’s eyes suddenly flew open.

  “Now that that’s done,” he said. “Let’s get down to business. Why are you here today, Mr. Statham?”

  “To help fix my fiancée’s intimacy problems.”

  “See that, Miss Gracen?” Dr. Choate nodded. “He wants to fix things too! So, on a scale of one to ten, how satisfied are you with your current sex life, Mr. Statham?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Okay, that’s great. Miss Gracen, how about you?”