Chapter 10: "The Morning After the Storm"
1277 Words
POV: Julian
He woke up and did not immediately check his phone. That had never happened before.
Julian opened his eyes to grey morning light filtering through the storm-boarded windows and The villa was now quiet , No wind or groaning just the sound of the sea, calm again, like the past twelve hours had been a nightmare he dreamed.
Maya was still asleep.
She was curled on her side. Her dark hair spread across the white pillow while her hand was tucked under her cheek. Her breathing was slow and even.
He had carried her here hours ago. He had laid her down and sat on the edge of the bed and told himself he would leave in a minute.
He had not left.
The morning light was soft ,grey and gold. It came through the cracks between the boards and painted stripes across the floor.
The room was damaged. A crack in the ceiling ,water stains on the wall, a branch had punched through one of the boarded windows, and the glass was shattered beneath it.
But the villa was standing.
Julian stood up slowly. His back ached from sleeping on the hallway floor. His neck was stiff while his hands were still shaking from the night before.
He walked to the window , and looked through the crack between the boards.
The ocean was turquoise again ,The sky was blue and The black-sand cove was littered with debris—branches, pieces of the dock, something that might have been a boat.
But the sun was rising.
The storm had passed.
He turned back to the bed.
Maya had not moved. Her lips were slightly parted with her eyelashes resting against her cheeks. The small scar on her left eyebrow was visible in the grey light.
He sat down on the edge of the bed again.
He watched her breathe.
He had watched her breathe a thousand times in the office ,in the elevator ,across the conference table but those were stolen glances. Quick looks he took when she wasn't paying attention.
This was different.
This was deliberate.
He was choosing to watch her.
He was choosing to stay.
The thing he had felt for three years had a name.
He had known about it for a long time. He had just refused to say it even to himself.
Love.
He loved her.
Not the way a boss loves a good assistant, neither the way a man loves a woman who fits neatly into his schedule nor the way his father had loved his mother—as a possession, a transaction, a thing to be controlled.
He loved her the way a drowning man loves air.
He loved her the way a closed fist loves the feeling of opening.
He loved her.
"Julian?"
He looked up.
Maya's dark eyes were open. She was watching him. Her voice was rough from sleep.
"How long have you been sitting there?" she asked.
"A while."
"Watching me sleep?"
"Yes."
She blinked. "That's not creepy at all."
"It's not creepy. It's appreciative."
She laughed. It was soft and sleepy, nothing like the sharp laugh from the office.
"The storm," she said. "Is it over?"
"It's over."
"The villa?"
"Damaged. But standing."
She sat up. The blanket fell to her waist. Her linen dress was wrinkled, Her hair was a mess and Her face was bare.
She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Maya found him on the terrace an hour later.
He had been walking the property, assessing the damage. The infinity pool was full of debris. The gardenias were destroyed—flowers everywhere, petals floating in puddles. The dock was gone.
But the villa was intact.
She came out through the broken glass door with bare feet while holding her sandals in her hand.
"It looks like a war zone," she said.
"It looks like a hurricane hit it."
"That's not funny."
"It wasn't meant to be."
She stopped beside him. Her shoulder almost touched him. Her dark eyes scanned the damage.
"Rosa's garden," she said. "The flowers."
"They'll grow back."
"The gardenias?"
"Especially the gardenias. They're resilient."
They both looked at each other.
The morning light was gold now. It caught her face and turned her skin warm.
"We should check the kitchen," she said.
"For what?"
"Food, water or anything that didn't get destroyed."
"After you."
They walked inside together.
The kitchen was a disaster.
The refrigerator had tipped over. Cans and jars were scattered across the floor. The window above the sink was shattered, and rain had soaked everything.
Maya surveyed the damage with the same efficiency she used on his calendar.
"We need to salvage what we can," she said. "Canned goods first, then bottled water, anything that didn't get wet."
"You're giving orders."
"Someone has to."
She knelt on the floor. She started sorting through the cans, beans, tomatoes and soup.
"Canned soup," she said. "We have canned soup."
"Breakfast of champions."
"We also have crackers ,peanut butter and a jar of something that might be pickles."
"Maya."
She looked up. "What?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For staying."
She stared at him. Her dark eyes searched his face.
"I didn't have a choice," she said.
"Everyone has a choice. You chose to stay."
"So did you."
"Yes."
They argued about the soup.
It was stupid completely stupid.she wanted to heat it on the gas stove, which was still working. He wanted to eat it cold because the stove might leak gas.
"It's fine," she said. "I can smell if there's a leak."
"You can't smell a gas leak."
"You can if you know what you're looking for."
"You're not a gas leak expert."
"You don't know that."
"What?"
"I could be a gas leak expert."
"You're an executive assistant."
"That doesn't mean I don't have hobbies."
He actually laughed, which surprised both of them —her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened, and she stared at him like he had grown a second head.
"You laughed," she said.
"I laughed."
"I've never heard you laugh."
"I've never had a reason."
She set down the can of soup. She stood up. She walked toward him.
"Maya—"
"You laughed, Julian, because of me."
"Because of the soup."
"Because of me."
She was close now. Close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her dark eyes and smell her—cardamom , sleep and something else, something that was just her.
"Julian."
"Maya."
"We should—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
He kissed her.
It was not tentative or gentle. It was three years of compressed knowledge released at once.
His hands found her waist while her hands found his face. Her fingers pressed against his jaw. Her lips parted under his.
She tasted like sleep and salt and everything he had been missing.
The kitchen was a disaster around them. The villa was damaged and the storm that tried to kill them.
He didn't care.
He pulled her closer. Her back hit the counter while she gasped against his mouth.
"Julian."
"Maya."
"What is this?"
He didn't answer.
He kissed her again.
She pulled back first.
Her chest was heavy,she had swollen lips and her eyes were wide.
"What is this?" she asked again.
He looked at her. His grey eyes searched her face. His hands were still on her waist.
"I don't know yet," he said.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
The kitchen was silent. The villa was silent. The whole world was silent.
Then she pulled him back down.
He kissed her again.
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END OF CHAPTER 10
- Writer
