Chapter 39 #2
He kept hold of my hand, turning back to look at me. Then he shook his head. “Kind of.”
He took me into the building and up the lift to the very top floor. I had no idea if anyone else was here, but all the lights were off, so I assumed not. Eventually, we made our way into a stairwell and climbed flight after flight of stairs.
I heaved a sigh as I trudged behind him. “I know I said I like surprises, but you could have warned me about the cardio.”
He snickered ahead of me, his face scrunching in a way that made me want to climb a thousand more flights just to see it again. “We’re nearly there, I promise.”
And he didn’t break it. Two more flights and we reached a door.
He turned around as he gripped the handle. “Ready?”
I silently nodded, excitement and nerves joining forces in my gut.
His smirk peaked before he turned back and opened the door, letting me walk under his arm.
And then I stopped breathing.
The first thing that hit me was the twinkling lights, both dangling overhead and the ones shining from the skyscrappers you could only just see the tops of.
Then my eyes drifted south to the floor, spotting a myriad of blankets—fluffy ones—surrounded by candles and fairy lights.
I couldn’t see what was on the blankets, but I couldn’t care less.
His desire to do this was enough.
I stepped forward, reaching the edge of the candles, smiling like a fool because this was probably the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. I turned around on the spot and found him behind me, his dark eyes pleading—like he was wondering whether he’d nailed it. Whether he’d done well.
I shook my head, my smile lifting. “I love it.”
The softer version of his smile beamed, his brows raising in relief. “Really?”
I nodded, walking towards him and gripping his hands like that's all they were ever meant to do. “Really.” I looked around again. "Why here?"
Marcus' head tilted as his eyes narrowed, those strands of hair that always broke free falling over his forhead. "Do you remember, back in London, after dinner with the others and you drank enough for me to carry you back to your room?"
Embarrassment flushed my already red cheeks. "Maybe."
His smile bunched, like that night was playing in his head, and he was doing everything he could not to let it break free. “You told me you wanted three things.” He counted on his fingers. “Sleep, to sleep with me, and—”
Before my cheeks had a chance to go from scarlet to maroon, I remembered number three. “Crumpets and the stars.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them, as the blurry memories from that night flickered back—like flipping through a photo album that had been locked away in some dark attic corner.
I couldn’t remember why I’d said it, but I could see why I had.
We were at that strange, quiet edge where whatever we’d been pretending—hate, rivalry, indifference—was beginning to crack.
I felt safe. And apparently, drunk Cora felt even safer to admit that she wanted crumpets and the stars.
My lip quivered as I stole a breath, my eyes finding a home in his. “You’re giving me a night of crumpets under the stars because of a drunk comment I made months ago?”
“I’d do more than that to see you smile like this.” His thumb traced the back of my hand, soft and sure. “Any sane man would.”
“They wouldn’t. Trust me.”
He licked away a smile. “I must be insane then.”
My stare fell. “You’d have to be to put up with me.”
My eyes barely skimmed the concrete before his hand caught under my chin, holding my gaze steady. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “but you’re the kind of madness I’d choose every time.”
Oh my.
My heart tripped over itself, stupid and soft and hopeless. For once, I didn’t want to fight it. Didn’t want to hide behind the armor I’d spent years building. I just wanted to stand there, with him, and believe I was worth choosing.
My hand lifted to his jaw, eyes narrowed slightly. “You never cease to amaze me, you know.”
His hand snaked round the back of my head and he pressed his lips to my forehead. “Right back at you, angel.” Then he slipped his hand into mine and guided me to the blankets. “Come on.”
The closer we got, the more I could make out what was on them.
A giggle slipped out of me as my head shook, eyes catching the dusting of silver specks that were dotted over the fading sunset. “Crumpets and stars. I can't believe this.”
Marcus groaned as he sat down. “It's a good thing you only wanted them, because it was the only thing I could cook up here without potentially burning the entire building down.” He shrugged. “And Goldie told me they’re your favourite.”
“I’m such a stereotype.”
He plucked two out of the packet and shoved them in the toaster. “I’ve never had one.”
My eyes widened as I claimed the spot next to him. “You’ve never had a crumpet?”
He shrugged, smile wide. “They weren’t exactly a staple in a Chilean household.”
“You’re from Chile?” My brows tugged. “I didn’t know.”
“I never told you.” His eyes were on the stars. “We moved after what happened to Lana. Mamà wanted a fresh start. Lana had already left and being home reminded her, all of us, too much of what happened. So, she gathered me and Oscar and told us to spin the globe, and wherever we landed, we’d go.”
“And that’s why you’re here?”
His face cringed. “Well, when we spun it we landed on the North Pole and I was devastated because, well, penguins.” That made me giggle. “So then we spun it again and landed on Boston and well…” He raised his hands. “There we were.”
I’m pretty sure my smile didn’t drop the entire time he was talking. But then, out of nowhere, I couldn’t feel it anymore.
And he noticed. “What is it?”
I lied—I knew exactly why it dropped.
“I feel bad, for not knowing these things.” My shoulders lifted, catching the breeze. “For people who have been around each other as much as we have, it’s weird I don’t know more about you.”
His head tilted. “I wasn’t exactly an open book when we met.”
“And I wasn’t exactly the nicest, either.”
He shrugged, brushing a crumb off the corner of my mouth. “I didn’t expect you to be, not after everything.”
“Still,” I shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
His knuckles nudged my chin. “You’re all good, Holland. Just don't go broadcasting my love for penguins. Can't have the world thinking the security high lord has a soft side.”
"Oh I don't think you have a soft side at all." My smirk curled. "I think you're all soft. You just enjoy wearing black."
His chin jutted at me, matching smirk twisting up his mouth. "You talking about me or you, angel?"
"How many penguins have you adopted?"
"The entire enclosure at the Central Park Zoo actually."
"So you're all soft then?"
"Just like you."
The pop of the toaster put an end to the round we'd found ourselves in, although I was in two minds about whether to just forget the crumpets and do this all night.
But I couldn't. Crumpets were on the line here.
I watched on as Marcus buttered them, using at least half the tub, just the way I liked, and I took a bite, trying my absolute hardest not to moan.
Sucker for a crumpet, me. Knew it from at least my third.
“So,” I said between bites. “Talk me through the mask.”
His face lit up like he’d remembered something, but it was so casual that it was almost cool. In fact, it was cool. He was always cool.
He sat up a little and pulled something out of his back pocket, placing it on the blanket beside me. A dark red envelope, stamped with a wax seal.
I devoured the rest of my crumpet like the lady I’m not and brushed my hands on my dress. “How very mysterious.” I turned it over and read my name, scribbled in the prettiest gold cursive I’d ever seen, not waiting another second before breaking the seal.
Inside was my invite to the Nouvelle Gala.
And for the second time tonight, the air was knocked from me.
I looked back up at Marcus. “My invite?”
He nodded, eyes full of knowing mischief. “Thought I’d hand-deliver it.”
My face pulled as I read the details. “How come you have it?” He didn’t answer straight away, so I narrowed my eyes. “Did you… steal it?”
He sniffed a laugh. “What makes you think I stole it?”
“It’s you.”
“Rude.”
My shrug and giggle mingled. “It’s just odd you have it.”
He gave me a fair-enough look before leaning closer. God, he smelt good. Like a bonfire that had been roasting vanilla and black pepper. “Well, I was at the committee’s office today for a sponsor meeting, saw it on the way out and asked if I could deliver it to you.”
I nearly choked on my crumpet. “What the—Sponsor?”
He nodded, that sweet smile masking his face.
“How else do you think they can afford the scholarship?” Before I could let that sink in, he shuffled closer, his face doing that thing where he pretends not to care even though I know he really does.
“Plus, it means I get to attend, and I knew I’d find a way to shadow you, but…
I wanted to go together.” His eyes shimmered. “As us.”
I’m pretty sure my heart was melting at the same pace as the butter on my crumpet.
“Are you asking me out, Romano? Again?”
He didn’t deflect, or shrug, or play it cool. He simply nodded, and smiled.
“Yes, Cora Holland. I am.” Then his eyes held mine, in a way that made me want to ask him to never let go. “And I’m hoping you’ll say yes, again.”
And it was in that moment that it solidified in my head that I loved this man.
Saying I liked him was a lie. I just didn’t know how big of a lie until now.
I was so in love with Marcus Romano—and not one part of that sentence scared me.
And for me, that was beyond huge. You know, because you’ve been there.
There was a point where I didn’t know if I’d ever get out of bed again, let alone trust another human being so much that I could imagine falling for them.
It was one of those moments where I realised just how far I’d come.
Like going back to classes.
Like smiling again.
Like painting for the first time.