Rebound, Boundless Series, Book 1

Chapter Twenty Two

If you're liking the story so far, let me know in the comments and give it stars. Thank you for reading, ~Rosemary

We had settled into a comfortable routine for the next two days. We'd awaken, we'd make passionate love, then get ready side by side. I'd make us breakfast. He'd drive me to work. At the end of my shift, he'd deliver me to the inn or pick me up late from my fitness class. At that late hour, we'd get take out for dinner, or he'd buy me something to eat for my shift at the inn. When it was time for bed, we'd have desperation sex from missing each other's touch all day. We'd fall into a deep and exhaustive sleep in each other's arms. I felt there was never enough time together when we were apart, then when we were together, we'd spend every moment entangled in each other's bodies. I couldn't get enough, and he gave me every indication he felt he couldn't be without me, too.

It had only been a week since getting together, but I'd forgotten how monotonous and lonely, my routine had been without him. I was going to miss him profoundly when he left for Spain. I realized how much I liked being taken care of—how much I needed to be wanted.

Waking up with him and going to sleep together at night became essential for my mood. I was happier at work. Everyone commented that I seemed to be in the clouds. I couldn't disagree. I truly floated.

Yet, I resisted thinking about being without him for a few days while he was overseas. Specifically, I struggled with doomsday thoughts: plane crash, he'd meet another woman in Spain and stay forever, he'd realize he wasn't as into me once we were apart. He'd have a few days to review our time together, and he may discover that he didn't want to be with me after all. Despite those intrusive thoughts, I forced myself to enjoy every second. If that time were all I had with him, then I would live the rest of my life fulfilled by the experiences and the knowledge I'd had a great week with him.

On Thursday, the day he was due to leave for his business trip to Spain, I'd awoken early to pack my things to return home. I couldn't sleep. I tried not to toss and turn throughout the night because I wanted him to have his rest. I watched him sleep for a little while. He looked so peaceful.

Could he look even more handsome sleeping?

His flight wasn't till the evening. I'd kept my shift at the inn so I wouldn't be able to see him off.

Once I had packed, I placed my bag at the front door. This felt like a long goodbye. Despite his offer for me to stay at his luxurious apartment, I'd realized I couldn't stay. I needed to break out of the bubble, which had kept me in the clouds, and return to reality. I had my own place with my things. I'd neglected my studio since Sunday morning. I felt like I was taking advantage of his generosity and, quite frankly, his wealth.

We'd never discussed money, other than him telling me he was willing to share his with me while we were together, but I knew he was wealthy. At work, I did an internet search to estimate how much he had paid for his apartment. I learned he had closed on it for over two million dollars. I was terrified of doing any more searches of his name for fear that I was in way over my head.

He drove a six-figure SUV, which was one of three luxury cars, he revealed. He'd divulged owning other homes: one north of Massachusetts, a house on the Cape, another in Southern Maine with his sister and her family, which they'd bought from their parents, who resided in the house during the summer.

When I'd asked which hotel he'd be staying at in Madrid, he informed me he was staying at his own place, which he'd purchased five years ago. I felt my economic self-esteem shrink with each tally of his possessions. I estimated the value, not just at purchase, but taxes and upkeep, and needless to say, it was a shit-load of money.

The businesswoman in me applauded how he managed his wealth and made wise investments. Yet, I shuddered to think what his investment portfolio would be.