Chapter 20 #2
"My place," I said, wanting the comfort of my own space. "If that's okay. We can order something."
"Anything's okay with me. As long as you're there."
Something warm flooded through my chest at those words. I squeezed his hand, then looked at Elena. "I'll text you later."
"You better."
We said our goodbyes and headed out to a sleek black car where a massive man with tattoos waited by the passenger door. Nate, presumably. He nodded at Eric, opened the door for me, then took the driver's seat without a word.
Eric slid in beside me, and the partition between front and back seats rose smoothly, giving us privacy.
"What dessert do you want delivered?" he asked as Nate pulled away from the estate. "You still love churros?"
"You remember that?" I smiled softly, remembering how we'd had a few churro dates at a local place back when we were together.
"How could I forget? You got so drunk one night and made up that crazy song about them." He laughed, making me giggle.
"God, I was a mess back then. Churros sound good," I murmured.
"My mess though," he said gently as he ordered, making my heart flutter.
I watched him, taking in the small details. The set of his shoulders, more relaxed now than they'd been when he'd arrived. The way his free hand rested on his thigh, close enough to touch but not presuming. The flowers sitting between us on the seat.
When he finished ordering, he caught me staring.
"What?"
"Just making sure you're real."
His expression softened. "I'm real. And I'm not going anywhere."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I keep meaning it."
The drive to my apartment passed in comfortable silence. When we arrived, Nate did a quick sweep of the building entrance before nodding at Eric.
"I'll be out here," Nate said in heavily accented English. "The rest of the team is a minute out."
"Thanks."
Inside my apartment, Eric set the flowers on the counter while I grabbed a vase from under the sink.
"Food should be here in thirty minutes," he said.
"Okay."
I filled the vase with water, arranged the flowers with hands that weren't quite steady. Red and white roses mixed with something delicate. Beautiful in a way that made my throat tight. I set the vase next to my other one, enjoying the contrast of the red and purple with all the white.
Eric leaned against the counter, watching me. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"When we first met. Four years ago." He paused, choosing words carefully. "If I'd told you then about my family, about what I did, would you have wanted to be with me?"
I stopped fussing with the flowers and really thought about it. Remembered who I'd been then. Younger, more naive. Still thinking true danger was something that happened to other people.
"I don't think so," I admitted finally. "I don't think I would've been ready for it."
He nodded slowly, like he'd expected that answer.
"I was stepping away from the family business when we met," he said. "Trying to decide if I wanted to stay away from it. I'd been thinking about asking you to move in with me. Actually had a second key cut for my place. Was going to give it to you as a surprise."
My breath caught. "You were?"
"Yeah. Then I got the call about Daniel.
" His jaw tightened. "And I knew everything was about to change.
I'd have to go back, take his place, prove myself to people who'd been loyal to him.
Work my ass off to earn their respect and fill shoes I never wanted to wear.
I knew I'd be unavailable, distracted, constantly dealing with threats and violence. "
"I left the way I did to protect you," Eric continued. "To spare you from all of it. The danger, the violence, the constant looking over your shoulder. You deserved better than that life."
I turned to face him fully. "And now?"
"Now you're already in it. Because of your friends, because of me showing up again, because the Malatestas decided to target you." His hands clenched at his sides. "I can't protect you by staying away anymore. That ship sailed the second I walked into that bar and saw you."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "I think I'm open to it now. To your world, I mean. Because of everything else. Elena, Sofia, Meredith. I've seen what it looks like up close. I know the risks."
"Do you?" He pushed off the counter, closing the distance between us.
"Because it's one thing to know your friends are with dangerous men.
It's another thing entirely to be with one yourself.
To wake up some mornings not knowing if I'll come home that night.
To have security following you everywhere because there's always someone looking for leverage against me. "
"I know all that."
"You think you do." His eyes searched mine. "But theory and reality are different things. When I got the call yesterday that the Malatestas were going after you, I… I'm just glad I was already there nearby."
I swallowed hard, remembering the bag over my head, the rough hands grabbing at me. "You got there in time."
"This time." His jaw clenched. "But there will be other threats. Other families who think they can use you to get to me or the alliance. Are you really willing to live with that hanging over your head?"
"Are you willing to live with the risk of being with me?
" I countered. "Because I'm not exactly low-maintenance, Eric.
I've got trust issues a mile wide. I say things I don't mean when I'm angry.
I make impulsive decisions like going on dates with random guys from apps just to feel something other than lonely. "
"I know."
"I'm a wild card," I pressed. "I don't fit neatly into your world the way Sofia or Meredith do. I don't have their training or their calmness. I'm just me, messy and chaotic and probably going to cause you headaches."
A slow smile curved his mouth. "You're my wild card."
Something in my chest cracked wide open at those words. The way he said it, like my chaos was something precious instead of problematic.
"So you're asking if I'm willing to keep giving this a shot with you," I said slowly. "Knowing everything I know now about who you are and what you do."
"Yeah. That's what I'm asking."
I took a moment, really thought about it. About the fear I'd felt when I couldn't reach him today. The relief when I saw him walking through the Donatis’ door, whole and safe. The way my apartment felt more like home with him standing in it.
About how, despite everything, despite the danger and the lies and the four years of hurt, he was still the best relationship I'd ever had. Even now, even broken and messy as it was.
"You were the best relationship I ever had," I admitted quietly. "Four years ago. Even with how it ended, even with all the pain, those seven months with you were better than anything before or since."
His expression shifted, something raw and vulnerable crossing his features.
"And despite the risks," I continued, "I think it could be worth it.
Us, I mean. Trying again." I stepped closer, until I could feel the heat coming off his body.
"As long as you understand the risks with me too.
I'm not going to be easy. I'm probably going to push you away sometimes just to see if you'll stay.
I'm going to test your patience and your promises. "
"I know." He reached for me, his hands settling on my waist. "I'm counting on it."
"You're insane."
"About you? Absolutely."
I laughed, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Happy tears, overwhelmed tears, relief tears. "I still can't believe the Malatestas got wiped out in a day because of me. I'm nobody."
His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me flush against him. "That's not true."
"Eric—"
"You're everything." His voice dropped low. "To me. You're everything to me, Ivy. You always were, even when I was too stupid to fight for you. Even when I left thinking it was the right thing to do."
The tears spilled over then, tracking down my cheeks. "Don't say things like that if you don't mean them."
"I mean every word." He cupped my face, thumbs brushing away the tears.
"I love you. I've loved you since the first time you made me try that ridiculous dessert place and got whipped cream on your nose.
I loved you when I left, even though I was an idiot about it.
And I love you now, standing in your kitchen, giving me another chance I don't deserve. "
"Eric." His name came out broken.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly. "Not unless you tell me to. And even then, I'm going to make you say it three times before I believe you mean it."
I laughed through my tears, then pulled him down and kissed him.
This wasn't like the kiss at the Donati estate, public and claiming. This was private, desperate, full of four years of longing and loss and finding each other again. His hands moved from my face to my hair, tangling in the strands. Mine clutched at his shirt, trying to get him closer.
"Bedroom," I gasped against his mouth.
"Food's coming—"
"I don't care." I kissed him again, harder. "Bedroom. Now."
He didn't need more convincing. His hands found my thighs, lifting me easily. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me down the short hallway, never breaking the kiss. He navigated my apartment like he'd memorized the layout, even though he'd only been here a handful of times.
My back hit the mattress, Eric's weight settling over me in the best way. I tugged at his shirt, needing to feel skin. He pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head.
Relief made itself known when I didn't see any new wounds. Maybe a few bruises, but nothing severe given how insane today would have been.
My throat went tight. I pressed my lips to the center of his chest and the cross tattoo, feeling him shudder above me.
Then I was pulling at his belt, his hands working at the buttons on my shirt.
Clothes disappeared in a tangle of limbs and urgency until there was nothing between us but skin and want.
"You're sure?" he asked, even as his hand skimmed down my side, leaving heat in its wake.
"I'm sure." I pulled him down for another kiss. "I need you."
He groaned against my mouth, his control slipping. "I need you, too. God, I fucking need you."
"Show me."
And he did.
His hands traced every inch of me like he was relearning a favorite song. My hips, my ribs, the curve of my breast. His mouth followed the path his hands made, pressing kisses to my skin.
I arched into him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back. He felt solid, real, mine in a way that made my chest ache. When he finally pressed inside me, we both went still for a moment, just breathing each other in.
"Ivy." My name on his lips sounded like a prayer.
Then he was moving, and I was moving with him, finding that rhythm we'd perfected years ago then revived recently.
But it was different too. Deeper somehow, weighted with everything we'd lost and found again. Every thrust felt like a promise. Every kiss tasted like second chances.
I felt the pressure building, my body tightening around him. His hand found mine, lacing our fingers together and pinning them above my head. The other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, and I wanted it. Wanted proof tomorrow that this had been real.
"Look at me," he demanded.
I opened my eyes, met his dark gaze. Saw myself reflected there, flushed and wanting and his.
"I love you," he said again, the words punctuated by movement. "Tell me you believe me."
"I believe you." The words came out broken as the pressure crested. "Eric, I—"
"I've got you." He shifted his angle slightly, and I shattered.
He followed moments later, my name on his lips as he buried his face in my neck. We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together and breathing hard. His weight on me felt perfect, grounding.
Eventually he rolled to the side, pulling me with him so we were facing each other. His hand traced lazy patterns on my hip.
"Hi," he said softly.
I laughed, feeling light and warm and more settled than I had in years. "Hi yourself."
"No regrets?"
"Not yet." I kissed his jaw. "Ask me again in the morning."
"I will." He pulled me closer, until every inch of us was touching. "And every morning after that."
The doorbell rang, making us both jump.
"Dessert," Eric said, sounding reluctant to move.
"Actually," I said, grinning wickedly as I traced my finger down his chest, "I think we just had dessert. And it was much better than anything they're delivering."
His eyes darkened. "Yeah?"
"Oh yeah. Best dessert I've had in four years." I pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips. "The churros can wait. We'll need them later anyway, for fuel."
He grinned up at me, hands settling on my waist. "I like the way you think. Very practical."
The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock.
"They're persistent," I muttered.
"Ignore it," Eric said, pulling me down for a kiss. "They'll leave eventually. Besides, we've got our own sugar rush to work through first."
I laughed against his mouth. "God, you're terrible."
"You love it."
"I do," I admitted, and meant it.
So we did ignore the food, ignored the outside world, ignored everything except each other. And when we finally did emerge from my bedroom, hungry and rumpled and wearing nothing but smiles, the churros were cold but I didn't care. They'd serve their purpose—refueling us for round two.
Because Eric was here. Really here. And for the first time in four years, I let myself believe he might actually stay.