Danielle Steel - Second Chance

“He's mad at me. He went to bed.”

“Our bed?… Your bed?” She nodded, and he smiled and kissed her again. He was a good sport, but it was after all Sir Winston's house. He got there first.

“You must be starving. I made a salad. Do you want an omelette now?”

“To be honest, I'm not even hungry. I made a cup of soup at the apartment. Mrs. Westerman left all the cupboards empty. It looks like no one lives there.”

“No one does for now.” Fiona smiled proudly, thinking of the closet space she had cleared for him. She hoped he would be pleased.

“You know what I'd love, I'd love to take a shower and just relax. You don't have to cook anything for me.” She wasn't hungry either, so she put the place mats and cutlery away and left the salad in the fridge. She grabbed a banana and helped him carry his things upstairs. He had also brought his shoeshine kit, and his Water Pik. He was diligent about his teeth and flossed for ages at night.

When they got upstairs, they dumped all his clothes on the bed. It was only when she heard the snoring underneath them that she realized they had covered Sir Winston, and she quickly took them off.

He raised his head, glared at them, laid his head down again, and snored louder. He sounded like a power drill as he droned on, and Fiona smiled.

“Does that mean he approves, or not?” John asked, looking down at him in bemusement. He had never heard anything but a machine sound like that. “Did you tell him about us?”

“More or less. I think we just did.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much.”

“Good,” he said, looking relieved. He was too tired to negotiate with a dog. It had been a hellish day, and they had new problems on two accounts. Nothing insoluble, but it had eaten up his day and worn him out. He was dead, and all he wanted was a shower and bed. He walked into the bathroom, while Fiona hung up his clothes, and when he came back out twenty minutes later, he felt human again, and clean, and all his things were put away.

Fiona showed him his two drawers. He felt like a kid at camp, or his first day in boarding school, learning where his locker was. Everything was unfamiliar here, but he didn't mind. All he wanted was to be with her. And then she showed him where she had hung his suits and shirts. They were nicely squeezed in to the left of hers, without a centimeter of spare room, but they fit. He stared at them for a moment, wondering why she hadn't made more room, but decided not to say anything. There was some sort of gown with feathers on it draped over one of his dark suits.

“Not a lot of room, is there,” he commented, and she hated to admit it, but the closet seemed to have shrunk since that afternoon. She had been so proud of the space she'd made for him, and now it didn't seem like enough. She promised herself to study the problem again the next day. She needed more racks. But John was too tired to care. He turned on the TV, and lay on the bed, as Sir Winston lifted his head, looked at him in despair, and appeared to collapse deeper into the bed. But at least he didn't growl. John wasn't sure he could sleep with the noise he made, but he was willing to try, and he was so tired that night, it actually didn't bother him. He fell asleep with the television on, and Fiona in his arms. That was all he wanted. And when he awoke the next morning, Fiona had orange juice and coffee waiting for him, handed him the newspaper, and made him scrambled eggs. The dog was already outside.

All was well in their little world. Their first night had gone well. Fiona was enormously relieved as she left for work. And John sent her roses that afternoon. Adrian raised an eyebrow when he saw them on her desk.

“The dog didn't drive him insane?”

“Apparently not. We slept like triplets in the womb. And I made him breakfast this morning,” she said proudly.

“When was the last time you did that?”

“On Mother's Day when I was twelve.” Adrian knew she hated doing anything other than dressing and leaving for work in the morning.

“Sweet Jesus,” Adrian said, rolling his eyes toward heaven, looking like a boy at a revival meeting, “it must be love!”

Chapter 8

John proved to be as remarkable as Fiona hoped he would be. He was even understanding about it when she told him she had to stay in town and work her first weekend home. She had the Testino shoot to oversee, and she absolutely had to be there. John said he had plenty of work to do, and he even dropped by the shoot to see how it was going. He found it fascinating, and he cooked dinner for her when she got home. It was well over a hundred degrees, and she had been standing on the sidewalk in the blazing heat all day. And after they took a bath together, he gave her a massage.

“How did I ever get this lucky?” she said with a happy groan as he kneaded her aching back.

“We're both lucky,” he said happily. He was so pleased to be living with her, and to have companionship again. He enjoyed the slightly zany aspects of her life. It was all new to him. “I took Sir Winston for a walk tonight, after it cooled off,” he said quietly. “We had a long talk. He said he forgives me for the intrusion. Apparently, the only thing that bothers him is that he's afraid I'm going to take over his closet.” He was razzing her, and she moaned. She hadn't had a minute to do anything about it all week. John had pointed out to her that his suits were crushed, and he had to press a shirt himself one morning before work. His clothes were being devoured by hers.

“I'm sorry. I totally forgot. I swear, I'll take more stuff out of my closet tomorrow.” But the racks in the guest room were already full. She was going to have to dump her things on the bed. It was a small price to pay. And the following day, true to her word, she did. She took out all her leather skirts and pants, and laid them gingerly on the guest room bed. It at least gave him room for some more suits and shirts. He seemed to have a lot. She was just glad it wasn't winter. There would have been absolutely no room at all for his coats.

The following weekend they went out to the Hamptons, and much to her delight, for the entire month of August, he chartered a boat. It wasn't as big as the one they'd had in St. Tropez, but it was a beautiful sailboat nonetheless, and they had a great time with it. Adrian even sailed on it with them one weekend. And between the boat, their work, and meeting a few of each other's friends, the summer seemed to speed by, and was a great success. Sir Winston got used to John. Jamal said he was a true gentleman, and by the end of August, Fiona had conceded nearly half a closet. By then they were working on the December issue, and the entire office seemed to be nuts. It was that time of year. Christmas in August for her.

And as planned months before, John left to meet his daughters in San Francisco for the Labor Day weekend. Hilary had finished her internship by then, and Courtenay had successfully completed her job at camp. John had told Fiona that he was going to tell the girls about her over the weekend. Their mother had been gone for more than two years, and John had no doubt that the girls would be happy for him. Both Mrs. Westerman and his dog were due home over the weekend. The summer was over. The dog had actually been Ann's. Fiona had fantasies about the two dogs meeting, and falling instantly in love. And she was both nervous and excited about meeting the girls. She had volunteered to pick them all up at the airport on Monday night. John thought it a terrific plan.

He wanted the four of them to have dinner that week, so Fiona could get to know the girls before they went back to college. They were going to be in town for only a few days. And after that he and Fiona had to figure out what they were going to do about their living arrangements. She didn't really have room for him, although he was happy staying with her, but her closets were a nightmare, and she couldn't seem to find space for him. But he also felt a little odd bringing her into the apartment where he had lived with Ann.