Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
The phone rang a few times before his deep, groggy voice answered. “Calla?”
“Did you really mean I could call you anytime? Day or night?” I demanded.
My adrenaline had faded only slightly on the ride over, but now as I stood on the steps of the modest townhouse he had rented, it surged once again.
“Of course.” I could hear shuffling on his end and imagined him getting out of bed.
“Can you come let me inside?”
“Let you inside?” He sounded confused, but I could hear his feet padding hastily against the floor. “You’re not at my house, are you?” But as he said the words, his front door opened. Eli stood there, shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants. I tried to keep my eyes off his chest as he blinked in disbelief.
“Calla? What the hell?”
“Are you going to invite me in, or just stand there?” I asked, hanging up the call and pushing past him before he could give me an answer.
He closed the door and spun around, following me into his dark house. We stopped in what appeared to be his living room.
Eli’s mouth was still agape as he appeared to be processing whether I was actually standing in his house, or simply a figment of his imagination.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he started.
“I can’t write because of you,” I accused, pointing at him.
He threaded his hands atop his head and stared down at me. “What?”
I threw up my arms. “I can’t write. I wrote half a book when I got back, but now I’m stuck. All of my creativity has dried up, and it’s all because of you. How can I write a happy ending when they don’t actually exist?”
Eli’s eyes narrowed at me. “Did you walk here? Calla, it’s four in the morning. Why the hell were you outside by yourself?—”
I held up a hand. “I took a cab, and this is no time for some misguided protective lecture.”
He crossed his arms and scowled. “I’ll give you a protective lecture if I need to. You should have asked me to come to your apartment. I would have been there in an instant. How did you even know where I live?”
“Your assistant told me, that day I came to set,” I said. “She was quick to tell me anything I asked.”
He dragged a hand down his face, which was still tense with bewilderment. “You really came over here in the middle of the night to berate me for your writer’s block?”
“Yes...no.” The intense energy surge that had pushed me all the way to Eli’s house was gone. In its place was something else. Something much more vulnerable. “I finally watched the show,” I admitted.
He nodded as if finally starting to understand.
“Have you watched it?” I asked.
“Not all the way through. I tried, but...” His voice faded as his eyes roamed my features. “It hurt too much knowing I didn’t have you.”
“It was kind of hard to watch,” I confessed. “But at the same time, once I started, I couldn’t stop.”
“And what did you think?” He asked carefully, looking at me like he was afraid I might run at any moment.
My teeth grazed my lower lip. “I was thinking we looked like we really made each other happy.”
He took a step closer to me. “And how did that make you feel?”
“Angry,” I revealed.
He gaped at me. “ Angry ?”
“Angry because we almost had everything. We were about to have this amazing life together and it all got ruined.” I flung my arms up in frustration.
“Calla, I’m so sorr?—”
“Angry, because I had finally let my walls down and just like that they were instantly back up.”
He snapped his mouth shut and let me continue.
“Angry, because I let my fear worm its way back into my life like a disease. Angry, because despite everything, I’m actively forcing myself not to think about you—to convince myself I’m better off without you—when in fact I’m so much worse off that it’s actually painful.”
Hope flashed across his features.
“But you know what I’m the angriest about? You never even told me the whole truth. How you really felt.” I laughed and shook my head. “ Loved? You loved me? What the hell, Eli? That would have been nice to know. You never said those words to me once . I had to find out watching that stupid TV show.”
His lips parted as he stared at me completely bewildered. “Loved? What?”
“On the show. You said that you loved me.”
“And you’re upset about that?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Yet again, you weren’t honest with me.”
Finally, his racing thoughts seemed to catch up to him as he closed the distance between us. I backed away, but he caught me loosely around my waist.
“Of course I love you,” he said fiercely. “Not ‘loved.’ There is no past tense when we’re talking about my feelings for you.”
“But—”
“No buts. And you didn’t come over here because you’re mad. You came over here because you just re-watched our whole relationship, and when you heard me say those words, you knew they were the truth. And by the look on your face, I think—no, I know —that you feel them too.”
He looked down at me desperately.
“You didn’t tell me,” I said weakly.
A small laugh sputtered from his lips. “I didn’t tell you? Calla, I showed you. With everything I had, I showed you how I felt about you every day.”
I turned away but he pulled my face back, softly tracing circles on my chin.
“You should have told me.”
“I moved here for you. I spend every waking second that I’m not working attempting to think of some absurd plan to win you back.” His gaze locked onto mine. “If you need me to say it, I’ll say it. I’ll say it so often you’ll beg me to shut up. I love you, Calla. You showed me what love is, and I want you back in my life so badly. My chest hurts any time I even consider the possibility of losing you completely.”
He held my eyes for a long moment before leaning in slowly, brushing his lips against mine. Heat rose through my body and I didn’t pull away. He pressed his forehead against mine. “I love you. Okay? I love you, I love you, I love you. Will you please let me back in now?”
Any and all arguments I’d ever had against that sentiment had melted away as soon as he held me. Instead, much to my dismay, I burst into tears.
“Calla,” he said softly, wiping my tears away. “You’re such a crier.”
“Shut up,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing tightly. “I just really missed you.”
His quiet chuckle sounded relieved as he buried his face in my hair. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere ever again, even if you beg me to.”
“I’m done pushing you away. It hurts too much,” I whispered.
He pulled back slightly and held my face in his hands. “Can I kiss you now?”
I nodded and his lips were on mine. It started out slow, tentative, but built as we let out all the months of pent-up desperation and longing. His fingers tangled into my hair and my arms wrapped around his neck as I pulled him as close as possible.
“Wait,” I said, breaking away.
He regarded me with uncertainty. “You can’t take it back. It’s too late.”
I smiled through my tears. “I love you too.”
He grinned, relief completely settling over his features. “I know,” he said before kissing me again.