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Chapter 19
are you home?
My phone had beeped while I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. It was Marco. I tapped back a reply.
yes. just getting ready for bed.
He responded quickly.
i know it’s late, but can i come over?
My heart began to pound.
We’d talked during the day, after I’d been at Summer’s, and he’d asked me to dinner. I’d made an excuse about being busy with some accounting work, which had been true for the most part. I’d assured him that everything was fine when he’d asked. I just hadn’t been ready to have a big conversation with him yet and knew once I saw him, things would begin to tumble out.
It was pushing eleven. I’d assumed he’d gone home from work and had had an early night.
sure. i’d love to see you.
i’m actually close. i’ll be there in five.
My eyebrows shot up.
He didn’t live that far away, but getting from downtown to my neighborhood in Capitol Hill took about fifteen minutes.
okay. i’ll see you then.
I stood for a moment, wondering what was going on. Marco hadn’t said anything worrisome, but there was suddenly a pit in my stomach. It was a little out of the ordinary that we hadn’t seen each other over the past few nights. We’d spent a lot of time together since we’d started dating. He’d likely noticed the distance and probably wanted to talk about it.
That meant that we’d likely be getting to the bottom of things.
Like, right now.
Was I ready? It didn’t really matter. It was happening.
Shrugging a robe on over my pajamas, I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. It couldn’t hurt.
My intercom buzzed a few minutes later, and I green-lit Marco up without checking to see if it was him.
A soft knocking sounded on the door a minute later.
“Hi there,” I said as I opened it.
He leaned in to kiss me, which I accepted readily, then stepped back so he could come inside.
“I’m glad you’re up,” he said as he walked into my living room. It looked as if he was still in his work clothes—a navy button-up tucked into a pair of black slacks. He looked amazing. But it was weird he was still dressed like that. That meant he’d probably gone out.
“Did you end up going out after work?” I asked, following him into my living room.
He sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. “I have something to tell you, and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I eased down next to him, so close our knees touched.
He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze off in the distance somewhere. I didn’t want to rush him.
When he was ready, he said, “I haven’t exactly been honest with you about a few things.”
I held my breath, waiting for him to continue. My heart was galloping. This was it. We were in it.
