Page 177 of Jude

He held me as if I were his prize.

We rocked each other through the night, renewing our sensual, scorching bond multiple times before the sun crested the horizon.

A week later, we celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday with a gathering of our friends and family.

Maggie and Kian flew in from Vermont, their luggage bursting with East Coast gifts.

The band and road crew also descended on our new home like a joyous invading army.

Camilla, Misty, Sarah, and Maria also came along and worked in the kitchen despite my protests.

‘Woman, you’re feeding an army, and we’re helping,’ Camilla stated.

She and my new amazing friends set about prepping serving dishes for the food I’d cooked the day prior.

Angel and Evangeline brought Roxy with them.

Evangeline pouted as usual, tossing her platinum hair and making disparaging remarks about our high ceilings and open layout.

I ignored the petty digs, turning my back to her so I could catch up with Roxy.

‘The art we picked is perfect, Roxy,’ I told her, pouring her a glass of fresh lemonade. ‘The portrait especially is just so evocative. It makes the whole room feel alive.’

‘It’s so old school,’ Evangeline sniffed as she swept past us, her designer heels clicking over my hardwood floor. ‘Too rustic for my liking.’

Roxy earned major points in my book when she leaned in close and spoke in a loud, sotto whisper.

‘Excuse her, Sofia. She speaks with the certainty of someone unfamiliar with nuance, or with art.’

‘Hey, I caught that!’ Evangeline snapped from the kitchen island, crossing her arms. ‘Angel, tell Roxy to lay off.’

I arched a brow at the woman’s never-ending childishness.

Angel, seated at the dining table, glanced up from his phone, raising his hands in defeat.

‘Babe, I’m a brave man, but I’m not getting between sisters. That’s a death wish.’

‘Smart man, Angel,’ I said, laughing and winking at Roxy.

‘Please,’ Roxy scoffed, casting a look toward her sister. ‘I’ve been managing her tantrums since we were kids. This is amateur hour.’

She then leaned in and murmured in my ear. ‘She’s a brat who’s never been told no in her entire pampered life and has no idea what real art looks like.’

Roxy’s defiance was admirable, but as Angel led her sister away, a flicker of raw sorrow crossed her face.

Her eyes tracked him, and I exhaled as the truth hit me: she genuinely cared for him, the ache in her gaze one of unrequited love.

Damn.

Sensing she needed a distraction and an escape, I pulled her into the kitchen to join my friends.

Soon, her spirits lifted as the house erupted into a beautiful, noisy bedlam of slamming doors, raucous laughter, and overflowing platters carried out to the rustic deck.

Outside by the stone fire pit, the Australian road crew took total control of the food prep, stringing up an improvised Aussie barbecue over the open flames.

They grilled thick steaks, lamb chops, and what they insisted were authentic snags, while unleashing a relentless barrage of hilarious comedy.

‘Hey, Judah,’ Bluey, the master audio technician, shouted as he flipped a sausage with tongs. ‘Why don’t koalas count as bears?’