One too many sleepless nights in his house, haunted by dreams of having the life choked out of him by the white-haired man had inspired two changes for Nolan: toughening up, and selling the house. The timing hadn't been a mistake either; waiting to sell until Emily blew back into town with all the force of a hurricane, was a strategy. He'd considered moving to his penthouse in the city, closer to NolCorp and surrounded by people, a way to combat his loneliness. But then there she was, devilish grin and revengenda and all. He'd considered what he would do when she came back. Obviously, he was committed to her now, her taking the risk to save his life last winter having cemented an already strong loyalty. He hadn't expected to have her appear in his boxing ring, but he was more than happy to show off his new talents, his boyish grin genuine when she'd said she was impressed. By the time they got to her house, partners again and back in the Hamptons, he hadn't been able to resist popping the question.
"How many guest rooms do you have?"
It had been accompanied by a cheeky grin; she was intelligent enough to understand the implication. He had expected the cold refusal, but still found himself wounded by it. Boxing or not, Nolan Ross's heart was soft for Amanda. When she allowed him to stay, rushed and distracted as she was, he'd worried that it was temporary. That she would kick him out the instant she returned from her little errand. The fear had stopped the warmth of her acceptance from fully embracing him, leaving him tense until she came back. She'd largely ignored him as they moved about the house, getting dressed for Victoria's memorial, save for one moment when she'd barged into his room, already wearing her body-hugging red dress, her matching lips pursed in annoyance as she impatiently tapped her foot. Her eyes had swept across boxes upon boxes of clothing scattered to and fro, brows raised. One of their similarities was preference for order rather than chaos, so she didn't appreciate the mess. Being in unfamiliar surroundings had thrown him off, affecting his usually immaculate appearance. He'd plucked a pinstripe blazer from one of the boxes and tossed it on over his shirt, returning the smile that quirked up at the edges of her mouth as he slipped a bright red pocket square into the blazer, matching her dress.
"Shall we?" He offered his arm and she took it, letting go once they got to the car, but Nolan savored the two or three minutes of their physical connection. Serving as a wingman, as he'd promised, he got her drinks and played the charming sidekick, mercifully relieved from having to act in front of anybody but Ashley and Daniel, whose opinions he really couldn't give a damn about. Her smiles for the new power couple of the Hamptons sent chills down his spine, her resolve bleeding through, as obvious as her dress, to a pair of trained eyes. The last time he'd seen her after that was when she came home with news of Victoria's faked death and put him immediately to work. This too he cherished, her determination, but what he really remembered from that conversation was Jack outside the glass doors. His friend hadn't questioned his residence at Emily's, and she hadn't offered an explanation, not that Nolan needed one. A genuine smile from her at his presence told him everything.
…
Emily padded into the beach house, shaking sand off her body and beading the water from her hair, courtesy of her midnight swim. Her eyes rolled, more out of amusement than annoyance, when she saw a pair of childish red sneakers sitting on the edge of her coffee table. The sight brought about a warmth in her that came from knowing she wasn't going back to an empty home, filled with ghosts from her past or the son of her nemesis. Still, the warmth didn't find its way into her voice as she said,
"You better be house hunting." The sentence came out of her mouth before she could stop it, Nolan glancing up to smirk at her. But she could read the twinge of disappointment in his blue eyes, making her regret her rash statement as he muttered,
"Among other things." Her eyes followed him, taking in his casual demeanor, the plush robe and patterned pajama pants he wore, and the coffee mug wrapped in his hands. She smiled in spite of herself, his wry humor bringing out the girl in her she'd never been. She lowered herself onto the couch, watching the way Nolan mirrored her, each crossing their arms over their chests, her classic posture of defiance. As they settled in together, her mind began drifting; dreaming about what it would be like to have Nolan as a roommate for more than a week. She flashed back to earlier, when she'd rushed into the house in a fluster, reeling from her conversation with the supposedly-dead, resurrected Queen of the Hamptons. He'd been standing there in a lightly patterned shirt over her blender, the picture of domesticity. If she hadn't just seen Victoria, she might have laughed, but as always, business had taken front and center. When Jack had arrived, she'd been measured and careful with him, and it'd been Nolan who'd offered to leave to give them privacy. She hadn't truly wanted it; she needed her wingman there. But he'd gone, hard at work on her order, and she decided not to mention anything about their living situation. She imagined the next morning, waking up and coming downstairs to Nolan in her kitchen, waiting with a cup of coffee. She realized she didn't even know whether or not he liked to sleep in, or like her, was up at the crack of dawn. She liked to be up early; there was always something to get done, someone to talk to, and somewhere to be. That wouldn't end now, but, she realized, with Nolan living with her, she might find a few moments of peace and light among the storm she was brewing. At the very least, she'd lose the feeling of uneasiness in her stomach since she'd come back, finding her house covered in white sheets and feeling strangely empty, reminiscent of her first night returning to it, when she'd finally read her father's journals. She'd lived alone since and she was comfortable that way, without people taking up her breathing space unless it was necessary (Daniel). But leaning against the couch, the cold water of her hair freezing her whole body, she was glad for the accompaniment of Nolan, someone she could trust, someone for whom she wouldn't have to fix her hair and dust off her couch and pretend she was all right.
She turned to see him watching with a curious smirk, both of them waiting for an update from the computer. Victoria's voice pulled her out of her fantasies, her next sentence completely business-like to distract both of them from the thoughts she'd allowed herself to entertain. And like every time, Nolan responded, equally businesslike with a touch of his quirks. Also like every other time, he didn't let her tone fool him.
He proves himself right about her desire to have him stay, try as she might to hide it, when she knocks on his bedroom door at 2 am. She didn't know whether it was the early hour or the close proximity of him, but something drew her to the room, glowing from the tiny blue light of his Nolpad. She'd gone to bed like every other night, but instead of laying down, she'd simply sat and stared at it: smoothed down covers, polished wood headboard, and the cold touch of unused sheets. The last time she'd slept there, she'd been alone, fresh off a break-up with Daniel. Her weakness had angered her; the need for companionship a constant nagging in the back of her mind. She doesn't want to feel that way tonight. She knocks twice, though once would have been enough. He's been expecting her.
"Come on in, Ems."
"Are you decent?" She teases, entering with a light smile on her bare face and he smirks, wishing he heard more of the humor that he knew was buried under the hate.
"Only for you, babe. If I was alone..." he stretches back lazily, the robe hanging off his body.
"Nobody's stopping you from leaving." Her tone is only half-kidding; he can see the plea in her brown eyes. He won't disappoint her. With a shake-shrug of the shoulder he turns to the side and casually says,
"Nah, I think I'll stick around. You're a fun roommate, even if I risk getting myself killed by staying here."
"Isn't that what all the boxing was for?" Her smile is something rare; light, teasing, but most of all, real. He wishes he could capture it in a bottle and take a sip every time her expression becomes dark. He leans forward.
"So, what's keeping you up?" The smile fades and he almost regrets the question, almost wants to go back to their banter, but he wants her to be honest with him. She wants to say Victoria or the white-haired man or a million other revenge-related details, but knows he would see right through her. She shrugs but doesn't respond.
"What, did you accidentally give me the good pillow and want it back? Sorry babe, finder's keepers." He clutches his pillow in his arms and she laughs before an unprecedented expression covers her face. He wants to believe it's vulnerability.
"I can't sleep." He waits for more. "I didn't want to be alone." He almost doesn't hear it, her voice is so quiet. They really are two peas in a pod.
"Well I'm not a big fan of it myself." She looks up, the hair covering her face, reducing her age by a decade. He loops an arm around her shoulders and she doesn't shrug it off. "As for insomnia, the best thing is just to give in to it." He pulls her back onto the bed and she hesitates, resisting. He catches her fear and chuckles, flashing the Nolpad in her face. "Relax babe. Movie night." She really shouldn't. This is a really terrible idea. But...she glances out the door and towards her own bed, and a shudder runs through her. She can't sleep there tonight, not alone, not cold like she's been lately. So she lets him bring her head into his shoulder and she lets him keep his arm around her as the show begins. And if halfway through, her eyelids droop and she nestles even closer to his chest, and he rests his head on top of her own, well, she's sure he'll never let her forget it. Then again, she's not sure she wants him to.