Chapter 61 #2
Marco bends over my hand, holding it in both of his while he takes audible breaths and rests his forehead against my wrist. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“For so many fucking things, but right now I’m especially sorry I’m doing a shit job of explaining everything.
I should be comforting you right now, but I— It was a week, and you still hadn’t woken up.
I was starting to think you might… not.”
My left arm may as well be made of lead. Stitches itch and pull as I slowly lift it to set my free hand on the back of his head. His thick, black hair is as long and disheveled as I’ve ever seen it, curling in coarse waves under my fingertips.
“I’m awake,” I soothe. “I’m here.”
He takes my touches as an invitation to move closer, carefully pressing his face against my hospital gown, right over my middle. Another knife to my heart, but I keep combing through his hair anyway.
“Tell me more about Esme,” I request, needing the distraction. “Tell me everything that happened.”
Marco exhales deeply, his muscular back deflating under the black Henley stretched over it. His eyes squeeze tighter as he recounts the way he figured out who took us and where we were. Once he gets to the end of the story, he pauses, hesitating.
“I didn’t think,” he finally admits. “I couldn’t.
I just walked in and shot him. Three times.
He went down right there, and I stepped over him…
He was standing in front of Mami, so I saw her first. She was frantic, trying to talk around the gag in her mouth.
The second I took it out, she screamed at me, telling me to go to you.
I turned around, and you were there, in the dark, bleeding out… ”
His bronzed skin looks ashen as he raises his head and pins me in place with stormy brown eyes. “How did you get him to stop?”
“He thought I was dead,” I confess. “He took a…” I have to stop to gulp. “… a particularly vicious stab to my side, and I thought, It would be a miracle if that didn’t kill me. Then I realized I could use it to play dead. So I pretended, and he stopped.”
I leave out the part about how, after he left me slumped on the floor, bleeding out, I wished he really had killed me because of all the pain. “D-did he hurt Esme more? She already had a broken arm and ankle…”
Marco shakes his head, a look of relief crossing his face.
“No. I got there just as he was about to, but she’s fine.
She’s already doing physical therapy and walking in a boot.
” A somber little smile kicks up the side of his lips.
“They wouldn’t let her in here while you were unconscious.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so mad. ”
“How did you get in?” I ask, holding back a laugh because I’m afraid of the pain.
His wry expression takes a turn toward utter chagrin.
“I… may have implied that we were long-term partners. And I made a few” —he coughs, clearing his throat, which is his tell— “minor donations. To get this room and permission to decorate it a bit. Nothing, uh”— another throat rumble— “nothing crazy.”
I look around again. The room really is perfect. Beautiful and thoughtful, just like everything he’s ever done for me.
Only, he was doing those things to get information from me. Is he doing them now out of guilt?
Someone else will probably charge in here any minute, which means I only have a little time left with him… and I need an explanation.
“Are you—” I fight past my raspy throat and fuzzy brain, forcing coherency. “Can you tell me the rest? The truth about why you did all this?”
Marco’s brows crease. He traces his thumb along my cheek. The tender gesture slices my heart. “What do you mean?”
The air between us grows thick, even before I sigh. “Pierce told me the truth. That you were using your charm to get me to do what you needed me to do. To keep Ella and Grayson safe.”
Marco jerks upright. His eyes swirl, two dark pools of agony. “Alice,” he half-growls.
Memories fly through my mind. The same ones that brought me comfort when I thought Pierce was going to end me; they all cut jagged chunks out of my soul, now.
“Was it all pretend, then?” I ask, a watery, humorless laugh bubbling out.
An edge of mania creeps over my voice. “God, I believed you. I really, really did. It would have been one thing if it were just a bunch of pretty words or sweet nothings, but you—you went all in. Setting up those dates, the roses, the candles. Making me stay with you.” I sniffle.
“I even gave you an out! I told you, you didn’t have to pretend. So why would you—”
Marco moves so fast, I almost hurt myself jerking back.
He clasps his hands around my head, holding me in his thrall while vehement brown eyes snap with golden fury.
His voice drops low. “None of it—not one single, godforsaken second—was ever pretend. The fact that he made you think that—let you nearly die believing I never cared about you—fuck. If I could bring him back from the dead to kill him all over again, I would.”
I blink, forcing myself to slow my breathing. “B-but y-you—”
“Love you,” Marco rumbles, his thumbs brushing tears from under my eyes. “I love you, Alice.”
A rueful smile curls his lips. “Even when you were supposed to be a possible threat, I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to know you. Before any of this—all the way back at that coffee shop. Do you remember?”
Of course I do. If I close my eyes, I can still picture him, appearing over me. Gazing into my eyes. Staring at me with some foreign intensity I didn’t understand.
Thinking of it now sends tears streaking down my cheeks. “Yes.”
Marco gently leans his forehead against mine. “I worried about you. I couldn’t fucking stop. Coming to get you that day outside the damn subway. Showing up at your place. Following you to the bookstore. Jesus, Alice. You were some blend of obsession and salvation I didn’t even understand.”
More tears rush down my face while Marco continues, “You were so smart and kind and quietly sharp. Beautiful. Your apartment, your clothes, your skin, your hair. Fuck, even the way you made tea.”
His body settles closer to mine with another sigh. “I was a goner that first night, but I told myself it was just a blip and talked myself into continuing—knowing damn well it wasn’t a job. That it never was.”
Dark eyes pierce me. “It was an excuse. A reason to be around you when I had no business letting myself into your life, dragging you into this danger.
“As long as I focused on my job, I could let myself do shit, like tracking your laptop and following you to Book Club that one morning.” A wistful half-smile tugs at his mouth. “Christ, you were cute. And brilliant. You blew me away.”
Heat sinks into his gaze. “By the time I showed up at your place to borrow a book, it was too late. You were under my skin. I was already halfway in love with you. And then you kissed me. And kicked me out. By the time I left, I knew I needed you.”
Steady intensity builds between us. “I still do,” he finally roughs out. “I always will. Because you’re the one I’ve waited my entire life for. And I love you.”