Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(2)

“Hi,” I answered back, stretching slightly as the last lingering bits of grogginess melted away.

“Same one?” he asked, obviously referring to the nightmare he’d awoken me from.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“You know, if it weren’t for the upcoming wedding and the untold stress I know it’s having on your system, I’d be a little concerned about the fact that my extremely romantic proposal has somehow turned into a recurring nightmare in which you get swallowed whole by an evil forest.”

“Believe me, it’s not by choice,” I said, a shudder running down my spine at the mere thought of those shadowy tree limbs.

“We could still elope.” His eyebrow perked in challenge.

“Our families would kill us.”

“Only if they could find us,” he answered quickly.

“You’ve already spent a fortune on it,” I argued.

“We’ve spent a fortune. Say it with me, Lailah. We’ve spent a fortune. You are my fiancée—my soon-to-be wife,” he reiterated. “Everything I have is yours—ours, remember?” He pulled me closer to his chiseled side.

I nuzzled in closer and sighed.

“Okay, fair enough. Since it’s our money, I must protest against such a blatant waste of our funds. So, no elopement, buddy,” I said, pinching his side for effect.

“Ouch!” He laughed. “As long as it all ends with someone saying, ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’ I’m fine with whatever you decide.”

“You’d really forgo everything and marry me tomorrow?”

Rolling over, he pinned me beneath him, encapsulating me between his strong muscular arms. My fingers instinctively traveled up over the intricate black ink of his arm.

“In a heartbeat. But you’re right. Our mothers would kill us if we didn’t let them witness this day. So, we will be good, and I’ll give you the wedding you’ve always dreamed of. And then, my bride to be, you and I will spend the next three weeks in . . . oh, right. I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

I shook my head, letting out a puff of air in frustration. “Jerk.”

“Such language.” He laughed.

“Why does it have to be a surprise, Jude?” I whined, wrapping my arms around him. “Ireland was enough of a surprise for an entire lifetime. You don’t have to keep trying to dazzle me,” I said.

His head lowered, and I felt the wisp of his lips touch my cheek.

“Actually I do,” he whispered. “Every day for the rest of our lives, I’m going to do just that. You deserve to be dazzled, Lailah.”

Momentarily stunned by his words, I just stared up at him, lost in his warmth and love.

“Could you at least tell me what to pack?” I asked, a shy grin creeping across my face.

“Mmm . . . no,” he responded. Immediately, he chuckled as he watched the look of frustration cross my features. “I could, however, provide you with a guide.”

“A guide?” I asked, my face going blank in confusion. “Is this one of those rich-people things? Are you going to stick me with a snooty personal shopper, Jude? Because I’d rather end up with a bag my mother packed—or just a bag honestly.”

“Really? You don’t want a personal shopper? Because the one I had in mind is perfect for you,” he said with a mischievous grin. He quickly kissed my cheek and hopped off the bed to begin his morning routine.

“No,” I answered, sitting up fully and firmly crossing my arms across my chest.

Since moving to New York, I’d been forced to grow accustomed to many things—city life, the lack of trees, people constantly wearing black for some unknown reason. But the biggest adjustment was Jude’s money.

He’d come to me as Jude, the quiet nursing assistant. What had started out as a simple friendship within the walls of a quiet hospital had blossomed into a love so unlike anything I could have ever imagined. I’d soon discovered the broken man who worked the lonely halls of Memorial Regional in Santa Monica was actually the heir to a multibillion-dollar corporation. Hiding from a past filled with pain, Jude had run from the duties and obligations of his family and hated himself for it.

It’d turned out that I wasn’t the only one with scars.

Jude had saved me, in more ways than one, and in turn, I guessed I had done the same. But living with a billionaire was never a life I’d envisioned for myself. Sometimes, when things had gotten rough and sickness had taken over or I had been told that another procedure was needed for my heart, I had often wondered whether a life, any life, would be possible at all.

All I wanted was Jude. Whether he was a janitor, a nursing assistant, or one of the richest men in the country, he would always be the man who had snuck into my room with a chocolate pudding cup in his hand.

“What if,” Jude said, his smirk growing wider, “I said that this particular personal shopper was flying in especially for you?”

“That, in fact, makes it worse,” I said, making a sour face.

“All the way from Santa Monica?”

My eyes widened. “Grace?”

He answered with an enthusiastic nod.

I jumped out of bed and threw myself into his arms. “Are you serious? When? Where? How?”

We fell back into bed, laughing. “Yes, I’m serious. She’s flying in today. In fact, her flight landed a while ago. So, you’d better get your ass in the shower because she’ll be arriving at our door in a few minutes. Oh, and she’s bringing the baby. You’re welcome.”