43. Marcus
43
Marcus
Just do it, Marcus. Rip the band-aid off!
My brain has been screaming that order for the last ten minutes I’ve stood in the middle of my living room, staring at my cell phone, yet I can’t bring myself to dial Lauren’s number to explain why I’ve been keeping my distance. In truth, she deserves a face-to-face, but I’m a coward. I can’t handle seeing her response when I tell her I intend to get back with Harper.
There’s no use waiting any longer. Dad will be going for his second round of chemo next week. He’s been wanting to know when Harper and I will make things official, and I’d love to cheer him up with answer. I’m nowhere ready for marriage, but he’ll accept the news that we’re dating again.
For now.
With a sigh, I open my speed-dial list. Here goes nothing.
An incoming call interrupts my attempt to dial out, and I frown at the number before swiping the screen.
“Yes?”
“So sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Brady, but there’s a Ms. Ellington here to see you,” the front desk receptionist replies .
Harper?
A slew of questions go off in my head, but I answer, “Send her up.”
I drop the cell phone on the couch and undo the buttons on my shirt sleeves. Not in the mood for Harper’s company, or anyone for that matter—well, except Lauren’s—I consider the easiest or slickest way to get her out of here in under five minutes. That should concern me, since we’re in it for the long haul.
My doorbell rings before I create a reasonable excuse. I’ll just wing it. Her wide smile greets me as I open the door. She’s wearing a zipped-up coat, and with the building nice and balmy, I suspect there’s nothing under it.
Oh boy.
I remember the days when that information would get me hard as a rock. Those days, I was hot and heavy for Harper, back when I truly loved her, right before she committed those unforgiveable sins.
“Mhmm. Are you going to stand there gawking, or are you going to let me in?” she purrs.
Shifting my body to one side, I sweep my arm to gesture her in. She sways into the room and glances around with a smirk before turning to me. “This place needs a woman’s touch. I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”
“You didn’t call,” I point out.
Her shapely brows lift. “You’re my man. Why should I have called? In fact, I’m quite offended about taking the regular entrance instead of using your private lift. I’m not leaving here without the code, by the way.”
I sigh wearily. “What are you doing here, Harper?”
“Do I need a reason for visiting my future husband?” she asks, fiddling with the zipper on her coat, her tongue swiping across her lips. Jesus .
“You have such terrible timing.” I point to the laptop resting on the center table, glad I hadn’t put it away after updating my network earlier. “I have a couple hours of work left to do. ”
“Well, I don’t have work tomorrow, so I could spend the night,” she suggests. She moves closer to me, yanking her zipper down, revealing her breasts. “We could start with a little appetizer, a quickie—”
Harper’s words stop abruptly as a sudden ding announces the arrival of my private lift. It slides open, and my heart pauses.
So does Lauren.
Her mouth forms a small, ‘O’ as she takes Harper in, then me. A painful look runs across her face, then she backs into the lift, and the door slides close.
One minute.
No more than a minute passes between the opening and closing of that elevator door, but it’s long enough for me to realize I’m in trouble.
Real, deep trouble.