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Beneath her hand, she felt his heartbeat begin to race.
“My parents,” he replied after a pause. “Their marriage was a love match. It was in the beginning, anyway. But then their love went sour, and they became bitter. There was some sort of betrayal—on both sides, I think—and neither of them could find it in their hearts to forgive. Instead, they sought vengeance by publicly humiliating each other, and in the end only humiliated our family. Left us all but destitute, too, the two of them driven by drink and dice to burn through a fortune accumulated over generations.” He gently removed her hand from his chest and began to rise. “Forgive me. I must go.”
“No.” Putting her hand back on his chest, she gently pushed him down onto the bed. “You must stay. Is that why you’re afraid? Of love?”
“I never said I was afraid,” he answered gruffly, looking away.
“But you are. Edward, we’re all afraid. But you must know by now that you are not your mother, nor your father. You’re different, same as I’m different from my parents. We’re our own people, free to make our own choices. Forge our own futures. Just because your parents’ love story had a tragic ending doesn’t mean ours will.”
He met her eyes. His throat worked as he swallowed. “You’re in love with me?”
“I am.” Her heart thumped inside her chest.
“Sweet Sophie,” he murmured, taking her face in his enormous, calloused hand. “You should not trust me with your heart.”
“Perhaps. But perhaps I should. I trust you with my body, and you take very good care of that, yes?”
His lips twitched. “I do my utmost to please you, yes.”
“See? You are a good man. You care for me, deeply, same as I care for you. I would never betray you. I think you know that.”
He searched her eyes. “Why? Why do you care for me?”
“Because you allow me to be myself. Because I love the way you touch me. Because you may play the cold Marquess, but beneath the fancy clothes and icy demeanor, you’re full of laughter and heat and humor. And that—all of that—shows me you’re already worlds away from the small, mean people your parents were. Let me love you, Edward. And let yourself love me back.”
Eva made good on her promise and passed on that romance novel she was talking about, along with several others. But I stuck with My Marriage to the Marquess because I’m friends with the author, Olivia. Montgomery Partners was one of the first to fund her boyfriend Elijah Jackson’s restaurant, The Pearl, years ago.
She’s a damn good writer. I didn’t have a ton of time to read before I met Eva, and I have even less now that I’m sorta-kinda dating her. But when I started Olivia’s book a few nights back, I couldn’t put the damn thing down. I need to know what happens with Edward and Sophie, and I need to know now.
Guess they remind me of Eva and I. Their chemistry. Their opposing views on big ideas.
Their willingness to listen and change.
I know I’m changing for the better, thanks to Eva. Reading this book is case in point.
I stay up way too late Wednesday night devouring over half of My Marriage to the Marquess. Getting up on Thursday is tough, but it’s made easier by the fact that I get a call from Eva bright and early. She invites Bryce and I over for dinner at her place Friday night.
For the past couple years, Bryce, Greyson, and I had a set tradition for Friday nights. Greyson brought the food, usually takeout from one of our restaurants. Bryce brought the entertainment, always a Disney movie (I love The Princess and the Frog just as much as anyone, but if I have to watch it one.more.time, I swear to Christ my eyeballs are gonna start bleeding). And I brought the liquor.
But now that Grey has a family of his own, that tradition has gone the way of his growling and perpetually grumpy demeanor.
In other words, it’s disappeared altogether.
One of the five million reasons why it’s so nice that Eva invites us over.
I try not to get my hopes up for what the invitation might mean. Eva and I have texted a bit throughout the week. But we’ve both been crazy busy with work and life and a million other things. Plus, I wanted to give her the space she needed to think things over. We’ve come really far really quickly. Which is exciting, but also scary as hell. We both have a lot on the line. A lot. As much as I want to see her every night, all night, I think a little space apart and time to decompress has benefitted us both.
But not gonna lie—when her call comes through Thursday morning, I legit leap out of my chair to answer it, nearly knocking over my desk in the process.
