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“Of course not.”
He steps toward me, and I hold perfectly still.
“So then won’t you relax just a little? You’re hovering near the door like you’re about to bolt.”
I hadn’t realized that was the case. I step further inside the suite, trying to slow my racing heart.
“Here,” he says, holding his hand out for the flowers. “Let me put these in water.”
There’s a vase already prepared on a side table, and he unwraps the flowers from their paper and drops them inside.
After that, he turns back to me, locks his gaze with mine, and asks simply, “How is someone supposed to confess their love? Should I have ordered up dinner or dessert for us? Have you eaten? I haven’t even thought to ask.”
What?!
“Walt—”
“I just, I’m not a man who’s made a habit out of telling people I love them. I can’t remember the last time I said it even to Matthew, so I’m likely getting this all wrong.”
I open my mouth to try to speak again, but he beats me to it.
“I do…love you though, Elizabeth. In spite of how we started. In spite of our rough beginning—my rough beginning.”
He looks so deeply troubled by his confession I can’t help but laugh.
He takes it wrong. With a sigh, he moves toward a phone sitting beside a huge vase of white peonies. “God, I knew I would get it wrong. Here, let me order up some champagne and food. Do you like steak?”
He lifts the phone and starts to dial, and I race over to stop him, taking the phone from his hand and setting it back down.
“Walt—”
“Are you not hungry?” he asks, sounding dumbfounded.
“Walt,” I say again, trying to get him to look at me.
When he finally does, I see worry etched on his chiseled features.
“You love me?”
He frowns. “I just said I do.”
Another laugh bursts out of me. “You don’t have to look so sad about it.”
“I’m not sad at all,” he says, rushing the words out. “I’m…”
“Scared.”
He inhales a deep breath, pinching his eyes closed.
It’s such a strange role reversal to stand in front of him with my chin lifted in confidence, to be the one to tip up onto my toes and wrap my arms around his neck.
“I love you too,” I whisper against him.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, extricating himself from my hold and stepping back again.
My declaration doesn’t ease his worry the way I thought it would.
Now I’m the one starting to get nervous again. What’s wrong? What could be so bad?
“That’s only part of it, I’m afraid,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Now he’s starting to pace, really working himself up. “Our marriage…I don’t need to remind you that it started as more of a contractual agreement. A marriage of convenience.”
I nod for him to continue.
“From the start, my intention was to get you out of this situation, to set you free however I could. I never wanted to keep you forced into anything for long, especially after hearing you discuss things with your mom and sister. That’s why I was working with my lawyers. It’s why I said what I did in the library the other night. I thought you wanted out of this arrangement.”
Despite everything, it still hurts to hear him mention the end of our marriage, sham or not.
“But…listening to you on the phone the other night, being without you these last few weeks…”
He lets his sentence dangle as he continues pacing, his footsteps picking up as he rubs his face.
“Please just say it!”
He jerks to a stop and abruptly turns toward me. “I don’t want a divorce. I want this to be a real marriage, Elizabeth. I want you as my wife. Now and forever.”
A sound spills out of me, half laugh and half sob. I slap a hand over my mouth as Walt rushes over to me.
“Tell me you want the same thing,” he says, cradling my neck, bending to meet my eye. “Please.”
I nod quickly, too overcome to speak.
I move my hand and he leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth, sealing our fate. I kiss him back, stepping into him, pressing against his body. His hands move from my neck, rolling down my body, squeezing my waist so he can direct me back toward the bedroom. We kiss as we walk, hurried and crazed. After two weeks apart, neither one of us wants to let go of the other. He reaches back and opens the door to the suite’s bedroom.
“Elizabeth?” he asks, seeking consent.
I kiss him more, over his mouth and his cheeks. I taste a salty tear and I realize he might be crying too. I tell him again that I love him as he starts to undress me, making quick work of my dress and my boots. His suit proves more difficult. I yank on the buttons and only partially succeed in undressing him before we tumble back onto the bed.
