Chapter Nine
Marley
I don’t know how long we kiss for, but Tex still has his lips on mine when the sun comes up. In fact, it’s not until his phone rings on the bedside table that we give our attention to anything else.
“It’s Mrs. Robinson,” he says, kissing my lips again with a groan. “I should take the call. I’m sure it’s about the property across from the bookstore. I bugged her all day yesterday. I don’t know when she’ll get around to calling me back.”
I nod and land my lips on his once more, enjoying the scruff from his beard before I pull away. “I’ve gotta pee, anyway. This is just a break, though.”
“Agreed.” He grins and tugs me back once more before I’m off the bed, planting another kiss on my lips.
It’s a simple gesture, one I’m sure is normal in most relationships, but to me, it’s everything. It’s a sign that he wants me. A signal that he doesn’t want to let me go. Richard never did things like this. Most of the time I had to beg for affection.
It’s a mystery to me why I put up with everything as long as I did. Maybe that’s why this moment feels like salvation. I’ve been starved for so long.
When we’ve officially kissed so many times that the phone stops ringing, he laughs and I roll from the bed. “You better call her back. That woman is into everything. It might be a week before she answers again.”
Tex shakes his head and laughs while he grabs his phone off the table, his gaze still on mine. “Come back naked. Got it?”
I nod and bite back a smile as I slide into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. I look a lot less amazing than I feel. My hair is a complete mess, my eyes are puffy from crying, and my skin looks dull like I could use a tan or three layers of heavy-duty bronzer.
What am I thinking, flirting and kissing the hottest man alive while looking like this?
I twist on the cold water and splash it onto my face, hoping that it helps, but I’m interrupted by a buzz on my phone, then a flash alert from one of the bookstore’s security cameras.
What the hell? The security cameras never go off at the store.
I grab a towel from the rack, wipe my face, and pull down the notification to see a picture of Richard with a crowbar at the back of my shop. He’s not even trying to hide his face. He’s just going for it.
What the fuck?
The air feels thin like I can’t filter it through my lungs, and my stomach twists and knots. I swing open the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, frantically searching for my clothes as I glance at Tex who’s picked up on my behavior and let’s Mrs. Robinson go.
“What’s going on?” He stands from the bed and rounds toward me. “What are you doing?”
I hold my phone out for him to see the security camera in motion. “So far he hasn’t even gotten into the shop yet, but who the hell knows why he’s doing this.”
“You should stay here. I’ll go handle it,” he says, holding my shoulders steady as though his intention is to calm me.
“No way. I need to take care of this asshole myself. I don’t even want to call the cops.
I just want to show up and…” I wish I knew what happened after I showed up, but nothing I could do would scare Richard away.
He’s clearly insane. I should’ve known that years ago.
I tug on my jeans, then my sweater, and twist my hair up into a loose bun. “Can I borrow your keys?”
“That’s my girl,” Tex says, kissing my forehead.
“Tough as nails. That’s why I love you, but there’s no way in hell you’re going by yourself.
” He tugs on his boots as though he didn’t just say he loved me, but it’s all I hear.
It wasn’t planned, or scheduled, or thought out.
He just said it, like it was natural, like he never stopped feeling that way.
I stare at him, then all at once, I say it too. “I love you too, Tex.”
He kisses my forehead and lands his thumb beneath my chin, drawing my gaze up to his. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
His words settle over me, warm and cozy, and suddenly Christmas past doesn’t feel like a memory anymore. It feels like the present. And despite everything waiting for me at the bookstore, I cling to this moment because I know deep down, this is where my forever starts.