26 #2
She swallowed, her ire swamped by grief. “I miss them.”
And since she was leaving for Sweden at the end of the week, she’d continue to miss them for a long time to come. Maybe forever.
“I know.” Lips pressed tight, he just... looked at her. “I know you do.”
Her rage rekindled in a heartbeat.
He had no right to speak so gently to her, as if he understood how she felt, when he didn’t understand at all. If he did, if he cared as
much as that loving tone implied, she wouldn’t be packing her fucking belongings, would she?
Fisting her own hands, she bit her lip.
She wanted to scream at him, to slap at his chest and shove him farther away from her, almost as much as she wanted to sob,
and she would do none of it. None . Because whatever this was, whatever he wanted from her, the torture would be over soon, and she refused to humiliate herself
yet again.
His eyes met hers directly. Unflinchingly. “You love them, and you want the people you love nearby, so of course you miss
them.”
Her breath hitched, and she wanted to turn away. But she didn’t.
Maybe they couldn’t be together, but at least . . . at least he finally seemed to comprehend what she’d tried to tell him so many times, in so many ways. At least part of it.
And that was something, wasn’t it? To part with his understanding rather than his anger?
“Sweetheart.” Raising his hand, he softly thumbed away a tear on her cheek. “It hurts more than you show, doesn’t it? To have
everyone from the island suddenly gone their separate ways. To have your family so far from here.”
If she spoke, her voice would waver. Tremble like her fists. So she didn’t speak.
But it was true. All of it.
And she’d never told him. Because there was nothing he could do about it, and because even with him, even during the best
of their times together, she’d hated revealing that parts of her skin were so thin, they could bleed at the tiniest injury.
That parts of her heart were so fragile, they could snap under a featherweight of pressure, in the space of a single beat.
So how did he know? What exactly had happened in the last week?
“Ramón and Nava will be back in LA soon, probably later today. They’ll want to see you, and I know you need to see them.”
Then he gave his head a violent little shake. “Anyway, the event was...”
After brushing away a tear from her chin, he took another step closer, until he filled her vision so entirely, the rest of
Los Angeles ceased to exist.
“It explained a lot. To me. About me. About you too, I guess.” His dark eyes searched hers.
“And right after it ended, I went to my hotel, packed, and drove directly to O’Hare in the middle of the night so I could catch the first flight to LAX in the morning.
I hoped you’d still be packing when I made it back, and I was worried if I told you I was coming, you’d leave, so . . . here I am.”
Dazedly, she blinked up at him, too shaky and afraid to ask... why? Why was he here?
“Coach sucks,” he declared. “It was the only option. So I could either have flight attendants ram service carts into my legs
or use my knees to palpate the kidneys of the guy sitting in front of me. I decided he looked like someone who could use a
deep-tissue massage, although I’m not certain he’d agree.”
Forced into speech, she sniffed. Hard. “Deep-organ, more specifically. If it involved kidneys.”
“Norse nitpicker.” His lips curved in the sweetest, smallest smile she’d ever seen him give anyone. Then he sucked in an enormous
breath and cradled her face in both hands. “Okay. Enough avoidance. Here’s what you need to know, so I can find out what I need to know.”
Her heart was thudding so hard, she—gods above, she might not survive this.
If she had to walk away from him still, again , it would break her. Fucking demolish her. Crush her into so many damn pieces, she might not ever manage to put herself back together.
“I texted my agent from the plane and turned down the FTI role.” He lifted a shoulder, the very picture of nonchalance, and all she could do was gape at him. “Turns out, I have no
interest in enhancing photos of license plates to a scientifically impossible extent while possessing precisely one overriding
character trait.”
At any other time, she’d laugh at that very apt description. But right now, she had no mental bandwidth for humor, because
what he’d just said sounded like Peter bending . Rethinking, instead of digging in further.
And she wished it were enough. But it wasn’t.
Because what happened when the next big role appeared on the horizon, one he actually found interesting and worthwhile? Would turning down this first offer only delay the inevitable?
She didn’t want six more months with Peter, or two years, or even a dozen, before she had to walk away and savage her own
heart yet again.
She wanted forever.
“Here’s the more important bit, though.” Tipping his head, he rested his forehead against hers and wiped away yet more of
her tears. “Even if I did truly want the part, three years would still be too long to spend away from you. Because I’d miss
you terribly, which I know for certain, since even a week apart felt like fucking dying . And because you need me here, and I need you happy. I need you with me. I need you mine, Maria. I love you so much. I’m...
hollow without you.”
She sobbed out loud, the sound a tearing ache in her throat, an explosion of unspeakable relief mixed with stomach-churning
dread. Because all the gods help her, what if she’d misheard or somehow gotten it wrong? What would she do then? How would she survive it if she truly believed
he’d handed her everything she wanted, but she’d fooled herself yet again, betrayed and broken her own heart yet again , when she fucking knew better?
What if she had to watch him leave her? Stand there and try to breathe while he set her aside like an unwanted gift?
His own eyes grew wet, and he shuddered against her with his next breath.
“Sweetheart, please. Fuck, please don’t cry. Not over me, not ever again. I can’t take it.” His voice was hoarse now. Ravaged. “I wish I’d gotten my head out of my ass sooner. I’m so sorry
I hurt you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried her best to believe, but it was so hard .
“You were right. Baby, please listen to me and stop crying.” He buried his fingers in her hair and curled them into possessive fists, and she sobbed again, harder, because he wasn’t leaving her, and he wasn’t letting her leave either.
“You were right, and it’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.
We’ll be great . There are plenty of movies and shows that film in LA.
They might be smaller roles, some of them, but they’ll be enough to
keep us afloat, with our savings and residuals.”
But staying afloat wouldn’t pay his property taxes or Community Association fees.
“The h-house...” she managed to choke out.
“Is a fucking chunk of wood and stone.” The anger roughening his tone wasn’t for her, she knew. He’d turned all that raw emotion,
all that frustration and rage, against himself. “It’s not more important than you. Nothing on this motherfucking planet is more important than you. Not work, not this house, not this neighborhood, not some stupid bullshit from my past.”
Okay, but he was in the middle of accommodating stupid bullshit from her past. He wasn’t being fair to himself. A few deep breaths, then a few more, and she managed to calm down enough to say just
that without another round of hysterical weeping getting in the way.
Flattening her hands on his chest, she took a final shuddering breath and stepped into his body. “ Sotnos —”
“I have nothing to prove to my father, or to casting agents, or to anyone. Except you, Maria.” His fists tightened in her
hair the slightest bit, and the tug spiked lightning down her spine. “However long it takes, I’ll prove that you can trust
me.”
Fy fan , for a taciturn man, he certainly could talk a lot.
His words were such a balm on her aching heart, though, and she let them soak in. Let herself relax her vigilance, stop fighting
the immensity of her love for him, and—believe.
“I’ll never leave you,” he told her, a vow as solemn as any she’d heard in a church. “I’ll never set you aside. I’ll never betray your faith in me. I’ll always listen when you tell me what you need. And I’ll always, always, want you. Please trust me.”
Peter, the proudest man she knew, was pleading with her. Pleading for her.
She couldn’t stand it.
So when he finally took another breath, she seized her moment. “I do. I do trust you.”
The desperation furrowing his tired face didn’t diminish, so she kept talking.
“You don’t lie to me.” Even when it would have behooved him to do so, because he’d sometimes been a real dick in their early
days together. “You’ve never lied to me. Except when you pretended very unconvincingly to be sick all those years ago. And even then, you’re normally
such a fantastic actor, I have to believe you intended to get caught.”
“Not consciously. I’m just really bad at faking things off camera.” His lips tipped upward the tiniest bit, then flattened
again. “But yeah, on some level, I probably wanted you to know I was trying to keep you safe. I’ve loved you for a long, long
time, Maria.”
“I could say the same.” She stroked his chest. “Peter, you’re being too hard on yourself. If you need to have a lot of money
tucked away or feel better living in this zip code, so be it. I can deal with that, as long as you’re with me.”
His eyes brightened, and the heart thundering under her palm slowed a fraction.