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“I love you.” The screen stays over his face. He’s not acting. I can see it in his eyes. “I’ll always come back for you, I promise.”
“I love you too. No matter where you are, I always will.”
But our love. It wasn’t enough these past ten years to beat our pain.
Is it now?
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
If this is spoiling, then let me die rotten.
The bed linens under me are the softest I’ve ever felt. Our resort’s personal butler delivered the best ice cream sundae to our suite’s door, and this time I devoured Redix like a treat.
There’s the shower we took in the luxury spa bathroom after. It was almost as indulgent as the in-room couples’ massage he scheduled next.
There’s the Marchesa dress bag hanging in the closet where Redix is hiding my surprise outfit for dinner tonight.
Then there’s the small gift box on the desk in our suite.
And… there’s him.
He’s staring into my eyes from the pillow beside me. I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me every gesture, big and small, to make up for what we suffered apart. It’s working. Not because of his gifts. It’s because I feel whole again. Because he’s my present, past, and future.
“Do you have to bring that thing with you everywhere?”
He plays with my hair, asking about my police radio charging by our hotel bed.
“I’m on-call.” I play with his hair, too, twirling his strands around my index finger. “I’m yours as long as hell doesn’t break loose.”
“Will you take it to dinner too? I got a special one planned. Me and you. Luca and his daughter. It’s her fourth birthday, and we want to spoil our ladies.”
“It stays in my bag, I promise.” My fingertip lingers down his nose. “And you don’t have to spoil me anymore today.”
“Alright then.” His grin almost works. “Get up and iron my shirt, woman.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll get right on that.” Did I mention lying beside him? It’s luxury too. “How’s Atlanta?”
“I’d be an asshole to complain about the Presidential Suite at the Waldorf.”
“Swanky.”
“It is. I put a guest fob in your purse. Come see me anytime.” His eyebrows dance. “It has lots of windows and a dining room table just waiting for us.”
I linger my fingertips down his abs next, “That’s a tempting invitation,” seeking what’s below.
“Save that.” Gently, he stops my hand. “I got more plans tonight.”
“Speaking of plans.” It’s been on my mind for weeks. “Eric told me about yours, for your house and estate. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to, but I didn’t want to ruin our perfect days with the worst part of my life”—his thumb tickles my hand—“and I’m ready for something new with you.”
I’m finally brave enough to ask. “How bad was it? Your drinking?”
“Well, I had beer and eggs for breakfast. Beer and steak for lunch. That kept me steady for work until it was time to clock off, and then I’d ride a river of vodka or whiskey into hours I don’t remember. That’s where Eric came in. I’ve tried to, but I can’t pay that man enough for keeping me alive.”
“How’d you stay so fit?”
“Genetics and hours in a gym can hide a lot of pain. All my dad gave me before he bailed on us was the high-functioning alcoholic gene.”
