Let It Be Me (Triplets book 1)

Chapter 11

The next morning Ophelia walked across the bike path that ran Mansion Row's length where they were staying and sat on a bench at the water's edge. It was early, and the sun was peeking over the horizon. The air was crisp with a touch of winter in it. December in Georgia was not necessarily the winter season yet, but the air hinted that it was just around the corner.

It had been a rough night. Marc had been nice and very easy to settle, and Pops went straight to bed after their arrival. Still, by the time she landed in her bed, it was after one o'clock, and Sullivan's kiss had been playing like a loop in her head, and when she wasn't remembering the kiss, she was worried about the consequences of the kiss.

Ophelia curled her legs under her on the bench and sipped her coffee as she tried to clear her mind. She still had to get ready for the day, blue jeans, an old sweater, and her hair around her shoulders was not going to cut it in the world of Hollywood elite, but she still had plenty of time.

She jumped slightly when she felt a cold, wet nose bop her hand where it rested on the armrest of the bench. Polly was smiling at her and sniffing the fresh air, still unfamiliar with the river scents. Then she felt Sullivan settle on the bench next to her.

He had his own coffee, and he was wearing blue jeans and an old, frayed sweater, which he filled out nicely. He hadn't shaved yet or combed his hair. He was delightful mussed.

"You were up all night, weren't you?" he asked as he watched Polly sniff around the riverbank.

"Do I look that bad?" she grumpily asked.

"No, you look delightful, but if you had slept, you would still be asleep," he looked at the shadows under her eyes.

"Does that mean you didn't sleep either?" Ophelia assessed him for weariness and could find none.

"No, I didn't," he confirmed. "We need to talk about our kiss." He sipped his coffee again.

"I agree, but let's discuss it with honesty, please." Her voice was soft.

"I have always been honest with you, Ophelia." He turned slightly on the bench to face her, and Ophelia watched his hands as they cradled his mug. It was the same mug she had, but it looked so much smaller in his hands.

"Why did you kiss me!" she blurted out, lifting her eyes to his face. He wasn't shocked by the question.

Sullivan took a deep breath. "Because I wanted to. At that moment, when you were helping my overly eccentric father while still managing to find the humor in the situation, I was so extremely thankful that we have you in our lives. That we can trust you and depend on you."

Ophelia let that sink in. She got it. His heart had filled with joy, and sharing that joy through a kiss was natural enough, but there had been something else there too.

"Are you attracted to me at all, Sullivan?" she asked.

"God, yes!" his voice was emphatic as if he was happy to say it finally. He closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them to meet her shocked gaze head-on. "The way you look with your hair down," he reached out and caressed a strand, "the way you take even the most outlandish conversations and goings-on of my family and keep right on going, your smile, and the way you say my name. You don't say it very often, but I love the sound of it when you do."

Ophelia felt herself blush at his words. "H-how long have you been attracted to me?" she asked.

"Since the moment my mother introduced you as her new assistant. You are a beautiful woman Ophelia." He dropped her hair and turned to face the water while taking a sip of coffee.