“You love me?” I ask, dumbfounded, still trying to process his confession.
“With everything that I am.”
I’m crying again, this time tears of happiness because, despite his words from earlier, I love him too. “I’m at Hartford. Room 6043.”
“Thank you. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you,” he says, ending the call. It feels abrupt after his declaration, but then again, nothing about this night has turned out the way I thought it would. I should have just stayed in bed. Had I not gone to check on him to make sure everything was okay, I would never have heard his conversation, and I’d be in his arms right now, which is where I want to be.
Making my way to the bathroom, I wet a washcloth and wash my face. There is nothing I can do about the red puffiness of my eyes, but at least the tears are wiped clean. I’m stepping out of the bathroom when there’s a knock at the door.
“Marley, baby, it’s me.” His deep voice carries through the door.
When I pull open the door, I’m engulfed in his arms as he pulls me to his chest and walks us into the room, the door clicking closed behind us. He buries his face in my neck and just holds me tight.
He finally pulls away, and his hands cradle my cheeks as he bends his knees so that we are eye to eye. “I love you, Marley. There is no one else—only you. You have your hands wrapped around my heart, and that’s exactly how I want it. How I want you.”
I feel the tears, and I would have thought there were no more left for me to shed, not tonight. “I love you too.” My confession is whispered, but the smile that lights up his face tells me that he heard me.
“Fuck, don’t ever leave like that again. I was worried sick about you. Why did you run?” He guides us to the bed and motions for me to sit. Instead, I lie down, and he does the same so that we’re face-to-face in the bed.
“I heard your phone ring, and when you left the room, I was worried something might be wrong. Usually a call that late at night is a bad sign. I wanted to be there for you if you needed me. Then I heard you say, ‘She means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing,’ and thought you were talking about me. I mean, who else could it be? I’m the one you spend all of your time with, so it had to be me. I was hurt, and I needed some space. So I left and ended up here.”
“You should have talked to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry I left the way that I did, but I still don’t understand. If it wasn’t me you were talking about, then who was it? Have you been ch-cheating on me?” I ask, barely able to ask the question, as a lump forms in my throat, afraid of the answer.
“No. Never. Never, baby. I would never do that to you.” He places his hand on my hip and pulls me a little closer. “I was talking about Jeanie.”
“Jeanie? As in the Jeanie whose job I filled? That Jeanie?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand. Were you seeing her? Is that what this is? You date all of your employees?”
“No.” His jaw ticks. “I’ve told you, you’re it. Why can’t you trust me on that?”
“Because you’ve obviously been keeping something from me. How am I supposed to trust you when you keep secrets?”
“I’m not.” He blows out a heavy breath. “I told you that she came onto me, and I had to let her go. She wasn’t taking no for an answer, and she was unprofessional.”
“Yes.” My mind filters through our conversation about her.
“Well, she showed up at my penthouse. I don’t know how she got in there, but I came home and there she was. I called security immediately and had her removed and banned from all Morrison Hotels.”
“When?”
“Earlier tonight. Before you got there.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you really think that this was something I didn’t need to know about?”
“No. I— When you came in, you said there was something going on downstairs, remember? That was her. I was so damn relieved that it was me who found her and not you. I just needed a minute to hold you. I was pissed off that she got in my place to begin with, and then the fear that if you found her there, that I could have lost you, and I just needed a fucking minute to hold you and breathe you in, and just be. I know it was wrong, I should have told you, but, Marley, I don’t think you understand what you mean to me. Losing you would kill me. I’m not talking ‘break my heart, eventually move on’ kind of pain. I’m talking never recover. I love you so damn much. I’m sorry. I know that I was wrong, but I didn’t want her and her stupid antics to come between us. I just wanted you in my arms where you belong. I needed you to take the anger and the fear away.”
“I believe you,” I murmur. I’m not just saying the words. I do believe him, but I don’t agree with how he handled the situation. “I believe you, but I don’t agree with how you handled it. We’re partners, and we need to share the good and the bad. If you had been honest with me, I would have been mad on your behalf and on mine. I would have been angry at her, but not at you. We could have avoided this if you had just told me.”
“You could have stayed. You could have fought for us.”
“I didn’t think that was what you wanted. Look at it from my side of things. Who else could you be talking about so adamantly if I was the only woman in your life?”
“You are the only one.”
“I know, but do you see where I’m coming from here?”
“I’m sorry. I understand, but fuck me. I was scared as hell not knowing where you were. I was ready to call Cam and your parents. I called the police, but they said you had to be missing for at least twenty-four hours before I could file a report.”
“You called the police?” I ask in disbelief.
“You were missing.”
“I was safe.”
“Did you come here in that? Did you walk here in that?” He amends his question.
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” He pulls me close, holding me tight against his chest. “I’m so sorry. Please promise me you’ll never leave like that again.”
“Promise me you’ll talk to me.”
“Done.” He presses his lips to mine, and everything is back to how it should be. My world that just hours ago felt as if it were spinning out of control, stills, and I feel centered. His lips trail over my neck and toward my chest. With one hand, he manages to unsnap the buttons on his dress shirt and pull it open. “You were naked? You walked here in nothing but my shirt?”
“Of course not. I had my heels on,” I counter, and he groans.
“I need to be inside you, Mar. I need you, and I don’t think I can take it slow.”
“I don’t want slow. I want all of you, Eli. Take what you need from me. That’s what you do when you love someone. It’s give and take, push and pull, love and be loved.”
I watch as he stands from the bed, removing his wallet and pulling out a condom, tossing it on the bed before stripping out of his clothes before climbing back on the mattress and settling between my thighs. When he sits back on his legs, my eyes track his every move as he rips open the wrapper and covers his hard length. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to bother, but I’m too worked up, as is he. That’s a conversation for another time. Right now, I need him inside me.