Chapter Eighty-Nine
Gigi
“ I ’m tired.”
We’ve been at the police station for two hours. I’ve been asked a thousand questions, some twice, had to identify Grace and her goons, and signed paperwork. I’m ready to get out of here.
Marcus squeezes my hand, but I retract it. “Officer, I think Gigi’s been through enough today. If we have most of this done, may I take her home?”
We stand, along with Marcus’s family’s lawyer, who oversaw the process. We walk out of the room to make our way out of the building, and once we’re at the exit, Marcus shakes the lawyer’s hand and they exchange a game plan.
Linc and Jax brought Marcus his truck earlier, so his parents could go back to the hotel. As we approach my door, he opens it and helps me inside. He hoists himself up and buckles my seat belt. My head flops back against the headrest and he gently places his hand on my neck.
“I love you, Gigi.” I look into his eyes, and the emotion in them is enough to make me cry. “I just want to hold you for days.” He gently kisses my lips.
He jumps down and closes my door, then crosses to the driver’s side and takes me back to his place.
When we stepped through the door, I told Marcus I needed a shower—alone. He hesitated but eventually agreed, saying he’d fix me some food while I cleaned up. I made my way to my room, but instead of heading to the bathroom, I sat down on the bed. Ethel, sensing something was off, jumped up and nuzzled my arm with her whiskers. I picked her up, hugging her tightly to my chest, letting her soft purring fill the silence.
As I hold her, the cruel words Grace had thrown at me echo in my mind. My parents didn’t want me. That truth has been with me for as long as I can remember, but hearing it again, in this moment, after everything, made it hurt all over again. I caused nothing but chaos over the past twenty-four hours. The wedding is off because of me—because of my past, my mistakes. Marcus’s father must hate me for the embarrassment, for the money they’ve lost. They know my history, my less-than-perfect past, and I’ve only proven them right.
I don’t belong in Marcus’ world. He deserves someone who fits seamlessly into his life—a woman with the same upbringing, the same social status. Someone his father approves of, who can attend their business meetings and charity galas without sticking out. I feel that familiar weight, the same sense of not being enough that I felt with Lewis. It’s the same way I felt every time a foster family returned me like a worn sweater. I should know by now that I don’t deserve forever with someone. Why do I keep fooling myself into thinking I deserve someone like Marcus? Someone out of my league? Why do I keep setting myself up to be hurt?
“Ethel,” I whisper, my voice cracking, “we don’t belong here.”
I stand up, carrying her over to the closet, and pull out her carrier. Sliding her inside, I feel a tightness in my chest, an emptiness spreading inside me. I grab my suitcase from the back of the closet, place it on the bed, and begin packing. It’s always been easier to leave before someone tells me to go. Before someone else proves I never should’ve been here in the first place.
I grab the handle of Ethel’s carrier and drag my suitcase through the living room, determined. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marcus glance up from where he’s plating food at the kitchen island. He immediately abandons his work and rushes toward me, eyebrows shooting up in confusion.
“Whoa, baby, what’s all this?” He wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, eyes bouncing between my suitcase and Ethel’s carrier, like he’s trying to solve some sort of puzzle.
Tears threaten to spill over, but I take a deep breath. “Marcus, I love you, but today made me realize a few things.”
His brows knit together, looking both confused and concerned. “What things?”
I avoid his gaze, focusing instead on the wall behind him like it holds all the answers. “You deserve someone better. Someone with a normal childhood, someone who fits in with your family. Someone… easier.”
He nods slowly, like he’s humoring me. “Uh-huh. Go on.”
“My past, it ruined today. Your dad’s probably doing the cha-cha right now, thrilled that he’s been right about me all along.”
He rubs the stubble on his chin. “So, what? We’re just going to skip straight to divorce? You’re packing up to run away like I’m a bad date, not like we promised each other forever?”
I shrug. “It’s for the best, Marcus.” Ethel gives a perfectly timed, mournful meow from her carrier.
“I agree, Ethel.” He’s… talking to my cat? He pauses for a moment, looking at me, his eyes scanning my body and my bags. “No, I think you’re wrong. So, no. No divorce.” He tosses the towel over his shoulder and saunters back to the kitchen as if the conversation is over.
“Wait—what?”
“No divorce. No leaving.” He slides a plate with grilled cheese across the counter to my usual seat at the island. “Now sit. You need to eat.”
“Marcus, I’m being serio—”
“ Sit .” His voice is stern and deep, the kind that freezes me in my tracks.
I stand there, unsure what just happened, when suddenly he strides over, plucks Ethel’s carrier out of my hand, and sets her gently on the floor. Before I can protest, he scoops me up from under my butt. I squeal in surprise. “Marcus! Put me down!”
“Nope, you had your chance to sit on your own, and you blew it.”
He carries me over to the counter and deposits me right on top of it. His hands cup the sides of my head, behind my ears, fingers threading into my hair.
“Listen closely, Mrs. Holt,” he says, his voice low and serious. “When I said my vows, I meant every single one. You belong here. In our home, in our bed, in my arms, and,” he leans in, voice dropping even lower, “on my cock.”
“I just want what’s best for you, Marcus. My life is messy.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?” He thinks for a moment. “I want you to read something.”
He walks to his work bag, pulling out a brown leather journal. He returns to me, handing me the book.
“If you doubt that you’re good for me, if you doubt right now if you should stay, start reading.”
I feel my face pinch in confusion, my eyes leaving his and moving down to the first page.
Today, I feel overwhelmed.
I never thought therapy would be exhausting, but hopefully it gets easier. Knowing I get to go home to Gigi helps.
Unworthy.
This morning, I walked into the kitchen, and Gigi was dancing to Harry Styles. What does someone so free and happy see in me?
Today, I feel loved.
When I came home from work, Melonie and Mills were at the house with Gigi. Mills hugged me when I took her from Melonie, and Gigi smiled and kissed me. Feeling happy to be home is a new and awesome feeling.
Driven.
Today, I feel driven to lead people well and to make sure Gigi is taken care of.
Nervous.
Today, I feel nervous because I know I’m going to tell Gigi I love her. I’m so scared that she doesn’t feel the same way.
Sure.
Today, I feel so sure that I want Gigi in my life for as long as she’ll stay. I don’t want a day without her again.
I keep reading through the entries. My cheeks burn as I try to stammer a response. I look up to his eyes. “You really feel this way?”
“One-hundred percent. You’re going to have a really hard time getting rid of me.”
I place the book down on the counter beside me, placing my hands on his jaw, pulling his lips to mine. “I guess I’ll stay for grilled cheese.”
“Good. Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to take that damn cat out of the carrier, drag your suitcase upstairs, strip out of those clothes, and wait for me by the fireplace. We’re going to light a fire, eat grilled cheese, take a bubble bath, and spend the night cuddled up. And if, after a good night’s sleep and breakfast in the morning, you still think leaving is a good idea—then we’ll talk. Got it?”
I blink at him, completely flustered, while he just gives me a cocky grin and gestures toward the stairs. “Upstairs, now.”
“Okay.” It’s barely above a whisper as his words—both spoken and written—sink into every corner of my being. It’s hard to be well loved after a lifetime of let downs. It’s a different feeling to have the man you love return the words you’ve always given and desperately needed to hear back. A tear slithers down my cheek as I realize the universe has answered my prayers with him. Every sob-filled word whispered in the night, every heartbreak is now worth it, because it brought him to me. I wipe my face, watching him move around the kitchen preparing our little picnic. Ethel meows from her entrapment to remind us she’s still waiting. “Calm down, Ethel. I’m coming.”
I lower to the floor and walk to her, opening the carrier, and she darts across the room to her water dish. I grab my suitcase and point to the stairs. “I’m going to head up.”
“I’ll be right behind you, baby.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“It’s your new nickname.” He says it as if it’s obvious.
“If I get a new one, you do, too.”
He looks up from the tray he’s putting together, smirking. “Have one ready, or do you need to think about it?”
I bring my finger to my chin, peering up at the ceiling. “Captain Thunderpants.”
“Nope.”
“Stud muffin?”
“Keep trying.”
“Big guy?”
His head tilts back and forth as he considers it. “That one’s alright.”
“Alright, big guy, I’m going upstairs.”
“See you in a minute, baby.”