52. Will
52
Will
I answer questions for an hour and a half. I cut them off when my tongue feels like sandpaper. I need water. I need food. I need Alice.
Yesterday, when I saw the lengths she was willing to go for me—undeserving me—giving up her life here, her job, everything she’s worked for, I knew she needed to be loved like that in return. No matter the cost.
But she’s left. She was in the crowd; I know she heard me tell the world who I am. The questions came firing at me, and I was obligated to answer. But then—she was gone.
I’m not sure what that means for us. I’m not sure where she is. Her phone keeps going to voicemail.
Finally alone, I tap on the door of her apartment, but she doesn’t answer. I set my hand to the knob, tempted to turn it. But what if the door opens freely and all of her things are gone? What if she’s left? All because I took too long to come to my senses.
I breathe out a tired sigh, feeling as if I’ve run a marathon. My body and mind are spent. Exhaustion like never before consumes me and yet I feel lighter than I have in years. Still, tomorrow I’ll do the whole thing all over again with my staff. I have so many things to explain, so many questions to answer. So much forgiveness to ask for.
I turn to my apartment, type in my passcode, and tell myself it’s time to rest. At least for a minute. It’s another lie. I don’t know where Alice is, or what she’s thinking. There will be no rest for me.
But then—there she is.
On my couch, cross-legged and watching me.
The lights are dim, and there are two plates of food sitting on the coffee table in front of her.
“I wasn’t sure when you’d get in. It’s just breakfast for dinner,” she says, her eyes dropping to the stack of pancakes on the plate next to a crispy nest of golden hash browns.
My stomach growls. “It’s perfect.” I drop my bag to the ground and stride over to the couch slowly as if she were a wild animal and I may startle her. “I wasn’t sure where you were.” My brows cinch as I think. “How’d you get in here?”
Her lips purse. “Garrett likes me.” She lifts one shoulder.
Garrett, my building attendant. I can’t even pretend to be mad. She’s here. She stayed.
“Are you okay?” she asks. There’s a spot on the couch next to her. Gerald the giraffe sits on her right side, but the left is clearly open and for me. I want to sit next to her. I want to breathe her in and feel the energy of her light and positivity. I want to love her until my dying days.
I stride over to the couch, sit next to her, and Alice Taylor’s light shines on me. I swear it does. “I think so,” I say. “I have a lot of explaining to do—to my staff more than anyone. I owe them the truth.”
“You do,” she says. “But you’ll give it. And they’ll forgive you.”
“You think?” I swallow, locking my eyes on hers.
“I do.”
“Can you forgive me? I never meant to hurt you, Alice.”
She exhales, and a smile adorns her face. “I do forgive you.”
“You wouldn’t have to. I lied to you. I asked you to lie for me. I?—”
“That’s true. And I’d rather you not ask that of me again. But I forgive you, Will,” she says, her hand covering mine.
I don’t deserve her.
“I didn’t tell the press my truth just to make you stay.” I turn my hand around and tangle my fingers through hers.
“You didn’t?”
“I wanted you to stay. I always want you to stay. But I did it because you were right. I need to stop hiding who I am.”
“Nice.” Her grin widens. “I love being right.”
“Are you staying?” I blink, watching her carefully. She might still leave. This life might be too much for her. I might be too much. The money might be too much. People always think that money will solve their problems. But I’m a testament that it causes just as many as it solves. Maybe she’s had a change of heart, and she won’t want anything to do with that. My heart thumps in my chest. “I hope that you’ll stay.”
“Because I am the best marketing specialist you’ve got?”
“You are,” I tell her. I know better than to lie to Alice—ever again. “And because I need you.”
Her gaze is soft on mine. “Yeah?”
“I love you, Alice.” I lean in close to her, cupping her face in my hands.
Her lips twitch and she leans into my hold. “While I may have learned to be pretty great at lying?—”
“Not that great,” I say, inching closer, her lips beckoning me.
“I am not a fan.” She sighs. “So, I won’t lie, Will Baxter. Not even to torture you just a little. I love you, too. And I’m staying.”
Tears well in my eyes, but I ignore them. Alice weaves her arms around my neck, and I bring my mouth to hers. Our lips move together in raw beauty—telling the other exactly how we feel. Unfiltered truth was never more apparent or perfect.
I trace my nose around hers, nibble on her bottom lip, and tease her mouth open. Alice’s returning kiss is uncompromising, forgiving, and eager. I have no doubt that she wants me as much as I want her.
There’s no question in my mind who she is or who I am. And I want the world to know it—I belong to Alice Taylor.