“I knew when you left.”
I stare at him. He was watching TV with Nonny when I slipped out.
“I’ll always know, Belle,” he says as though he’s read my thoughts. “I can feel it when you leave.”
My mouth dry, I look away. “I needed to run. That’s all.” I breathe heavily, wiping the sweat from my face. My lungs still burn from the exertion. The display says I’ve been running for seventy-two minutes. No wonder my legs feel so shaky now.
I hop off the treadmill and almost lose my balance. Elliot catches me, his strong arm encircling my waist protectively.
“I’m sweaty and gross.” I start to pull away even though being this close to him makes my heart hammer for reasons that have nothing to do with my recent run.
A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “Sweaty, yes. Gross? No.” He links his right hand with mine and doesn’t let go. He tosses the empty water bottle into a trash bin, and I drop my limp and sodden towel in a laundry net next to it.
We go to the penthouse, then to our bedroom. He runs a bath with Epsom salts in that huge tub. I strip and sink into the water, sighing as the heat loosens my muscles. Elliot grabs a couple of bottles of water, places them by the tub and strips down to join me.
He slides in behind me, his big, powerfully muscled body cradling mine, and I let my head fall back and rest on his chest. I can feel his heart beat against my flushed cheek as he pours water over me with gentle hands. His mouth brushes a kiss over my shoulder.
Inexplicable tears prickle my eyes. Moments like this, I feel like what we have is real, not some make-believe with a one-year deadline.
And I know with sudden clarity why I can’t tell him all my screw-ups and messiness. If he knew everything he’d turn away from me, disgust and contempt in his gaze. It wouldn’t take much to tip the scale from understanding to I don’t ever want to see you again. It won’t matter that I was foolish and desperate back then. It didn’t matter to the people in Lincoln City that I wasn’t the one who screwed them over. The crime of being my father’s daughter was enough.
I’ve survived a lot, but I’m not certain I could survive Elliot pulling away from me. I clutch his hand tightly and bring it to my mouth for a kiss. I can deal with my own messes. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. Elliot won’t find out.
Chapter Sixteen
Annabelle
The next day my legs are sore from the run, but otherwise I feel great. I crashed hard last night and slept well.
I’m done packing. Somehow I managed to get everything into one large suitcase. Elliot’s only taking one, and I didn’t want to be the stereotypical over-packing woman.
Since we’re going to the tropics, I put on a sleeveless pink orange wrap dress and wedge sandals, keeping my makeup light and simple, and go downstairs to join everyone for brunch.
A spread of bagels, cream cheese and lox sits in the center of the table. Thinly sliced red onions and tomatoes and capers garnish the platter. A pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and three bottles of cold water take the spot next to the food. There’s a cup of coffee in front of Elliot.
Nonny’s in pink and yellow pajamas, busily texting, her hair a messy bun. The sight brings a smile to my lips. She must be feeling more secure and comfortable now to dress like that.
Elliot is sitting to her left, and his gaze darts in her direction from time to time, checking out whatever’s on the screen. A white button-down shirt drapes loosely over his lean frame, and the light linen pants are pristine, not a wrinkle in the cool fabric. He’s also wearing a blazer, which makes me tilt my head. It isn’t like him to wear one, especially when we’re going to someplace hot.
His face is set in a protective mask as he leans a little closer. It reminds me of the way he held me last night, as though I’m precious and worthy of his affection. I soak in the scene, trying to etch it into my memory forever, as my chest aches. Even though I know it’s going to end, I want this and more.
I want Elliot all to myself. Not just him, but his heart too.
Such an impossible dream. It isn’t that he’s incapable of affection. I’ve seen how he is with his siblings and with Nonny. But I don’t know if he can love me the way I want.
I’m in love with the man. I might’ve been able to resist him if he were just handsome and sexy, but he’s brilliant, kind, generous and surprisingly thoughtful. He touches me in ways that make me long for fairy tales and happy endings.
And that cuts me to the core because I won’t live a fairy tale with him. My life is a story that most likely won’t have a happy ending. I’m doing everything in my power so it doesn’t end up a complete train wreck.
I grab a coffee, sit at the table and help myself to the stuff on the platter.
“Good morning,” Elliot says.
“Morning.” I clear my throat and take a healthy swallow of the coffee. “When is the car coming to pick us up?”
“Soon. You have time for breakfast though.”
“Good. I’m hungry.” I bite into the bagel layered with cream cheese and lox. It is surprisingly good, the salmon exceptionally fresh and flavorful.