“Your life is bizarre,” I muse while enjoying his warmth.
“And yours isn’t?”
I sit up with my jaw open. “Umm, how is my life weird?”
He chuckles. “Let’s see, you chase after criminals. People with guns.”
“Yeah, bad people who need to be in jail.”
“Even worse!” Eli laughs as his voice raises. “You’re nuts.”
“Oh, I see, now you’re just an actor again?” I nudge him. Not so long ago, Eli was claiming he was practically a cop, I guess he forgets that.
Recognition dawns on his face, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m a man who is dying for some cake.” He winks.
Smooth.
I kiss his cheek and get to my feet. I don’t even know if the cake survived, but if I know Kristin, she wrapped it up and put it in the fridge for me.
I, on the other hand, would’ve just tossed it. I will never be the class mom or the wife who organizes some big event. It’s not my style.
“You know,” Eli yells from the living room. “I could skip the cake and go for a sponge bath.”
“I bet you could, but I’m good, thanks.” I laugh as I open the fridge.
Sure enough, the cake is wrapped in plastic wrap and aluminum foil, which is something I’m going to need to ask her about. Especially if it preserves cake for longer, that’s a good tip.
Cake is always a good thing.
“Killjoy! Did you find the cake?” he asks.
I walk out with the whole thing and two forks.
“It looks great. Is it edible?” he jokes.
I move around to the couch and sit next to him. “Ass. I’m not sure, but since it’s your birthday cake, you should totally have the first bite.”
He eyes the cake and then looks back at me. Then, he dips his finger in the icing and moves it to his mouth. His green eyes move back to mine before he smears it on my chest. I go to jump up, but he grabs my wrist, holding me down. “Stay there,” he instructs. “I want some extra sugar with my cake.”
His lips kiss a trail down to my neck, and then his tongue slides across my skin. Heat pools in my center at the feel of him on my skin. Eli takes his time, licking the frosting from my chest. I’ve missed his touch. My fingers glide through his thick hair, and his longer-than-normal scruff scratches in the best possible way.
I make a mental note to tell him to keep it for a while.
“I think the cake is perfect,” he muses.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
I dip my finger in and then pop the sugary goodness in my mouth. “Mmm,” I moan. “It’s good, but I think maybe it’s missing something.”
He takes a bigger swipe and places the frosting on my thigh. Eli grips my calves, pulling so I fall backward. “I need another taste,” he explains.
“Well, by all means.” I’m not going to stop him. Eli is the fire that I never want to extinguish. When he’s around, I’m alive, and I never want to go back. I’m beautiful, special, and precious to him.
His tongue moves higher and higher up my leg before he stops. “Eli,” I groan, wanting him to keep going.
He leans back, fire blazing in his eyes, and I know this cake is going to be eaten very creatively.
“Mr. Walsh will read a brief statement, and then we’ll allow a few questions at the end,” Sharon says as we stand in front of a crowd of reporters.
Eli squeezes my hand before releasing it. I hate this for him. I hate this for me, too, but he’s the one talking. Hours before, Sharon explained the importance of the wording and our body language before making us review each possible way to handle any questions. When she was satisfied we wouldn’t screw it up, she berated me for another fifteen minutes about my outfit. After she finally found a black pants suit, red heels, and jewelry that she found adequate, we were on our way.
Now, it’s really happening.
My heart races in my chest when Eli clears his throat. I wish this weren’t necessary. He’s kept his condition a secret for years, and today, he’s going to tell the world.
“Good afternoon. I’d first like to take a moment and thank you all for the get-well messages. The staff at Tampa General Hospital is truly phenomenal, and I received the best care while I was there.” Eli clenches his hand and then flattens it. “Six days ago, I was in my home where I fell and hit my head. Thankfully, I didn’t sustain any lasting damage from the concussion, and my face is fine, so no worries about filming.” He winks at the camera before tossing a smile to the reporters. “However, my fall was due to a condition I was diagnosed with ten years ago. I have relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis and have been able to manage my disease with a fantastic team of doctors and regular medication.”
The faces of the reporters vary from shock to worry. I listen as he explains more about his MS and how it affects him. He speaks about his medication, the fact that he wasn’t symptomatic, and what it means going forward.
I wish I could take this for him and handle it, but a swell of relief washes over me at how well he’s doing. Eli didn’t need me to do anything but be by his side. We talked about how to deal with the press in regards to me, and we agreed as a couple that I wouldn’t speak today.
Eventually, we got Sharon to agree to it, but we had to give her something in return. So, as soon as he’s finished with this, he’ll head outside where there are barricades to keep the fans at bay. Sharon thought it would be good for him to sign autographs and appear normal after he tells them about his illness. I thought he should get rest, but I was pretty much overruled.
“My girlfriend, Heather Covey, has been by my side through the entire week.” Immediately, the press get to their feet, hands are raised, and people are calling his name, but Eli doesn’t flinch. He gives them a second and just smiles. “I’m going to give you all the run down so hopefully you won’t have any questions by the time I’m done. Although, I’m sure that won’t happen.” Eli laughs as a few of them do as well.
After he tells them a very abridged version of our relationship and who I am, I can breathe a little. My heart is still going a mile a minute, but he commands the entirety of their attention. He’s truly in his element right now, and it’s downright sexy.
He finishes, draws a deep breath, and asks, “Any questions?”
“Are you saying you’re officially off the market?” A young reporter asks.
Eli rocks back on his heels with a grin. “Yes. I’m very much off the market.”
He points to the next person with their hand up. “Do you plan to move back to Tampa?”
“I plan to fulfill my obligations to A Thin Blue Line and make time for my relationship as well. Does that mean I’ll be in Tampa a lot more? Yes.” I watch in awe as he takes each question with ease.
“Any plans to get married?”
My eyes widen at the leap from being off the market to marriage. We both love each other immensely, but Jesus.
Eli chuckles. “We’re taking things day by day right now.”
“So, it isn’t serious?” The same reporter asks.
I can almost feel Eli’s mood shift from amusement to anger. “If it weren’t serious, I wouldn’t be here, Joe. In the last ten plus years, when have you heard me talk about a girlfriend?” Eli challenges him. “It’s serious.”