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She gasps. “The huts?”
“Yeah. Over the water. So you can dive straight in. They have glass floors so you can see the fish. Do they look okay?”
She puts her face in her hands and she starts sobbing. Really sobbing. Like she’s letting out years’ worth of angst that’s been bottled up all this time.
Of all the gifts I’ve given her, the huts are the one that’s hit some nerve of deep-rooted sorrow—the kind that doesn’t have to be sorrowful anymore and the relief is almost too much to bear.
“Hey.” I take the tickets and set them on the table with the other papers. Then I lift her into my arms and take her to the couch and just hold her on my lap, wiping her tears and kissing her face. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
Her sobs are starting to ease now. “You know,” she says softly, “you said those exact words to me on that very first night.”
“And I meant them.”
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“You. Me. All of it.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind one small, perfect ear. “That’s fair. I’m scared too.”
“What are you scared of?” she whispers.
“That you’ll leave. That you don’t believe that I’m just not a guy who runs. I’m the guy who stays. Being rock solid has been branded into me alongside my earliest memories. I can’t operate any other way, even when I don’t want to. And when I do, watch out, Jones.”
“But it’s so much. These gifts…”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, baby. Just wait until I pull out the big guns.”
“One big gun is more than enough. I’m having trouble walking as it is.”
I kiss her lips, smiling because I can’t help myself. “There she is. There’s my feisty girl. I’m going to take you back to your apartment. We’re going to deal with the other issue that’s going on when your brother gets home. Then you’re going to come back here with me tonight and we’ll take it from there.”
I can still feel her hesitations, but she gives a little nod, her eyes still shiny with tears.
“One month and you’ll be putty in my hands, Jones. You’ll see.”
I finally get a hint of a smile out of her, and a weak, what-the-hell laugh. “You better make it good, Maddox.”
26
My driver takes us to Soho and we pull up to the curb, next to a pale yellow building with those fire escapes that have been turned into a zig zag of small balconies. But the building has charm. It’s somehow very…Ivy. Artsy and romantic, with a decorative flair.
I help her out and take her bag from my driver. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I tell him.
We go inside and I can tell it’s strange for her having me here. She’s been quiet since we left my place, still adjusting to the warp speed of whatever we’re calling this. “I can’t believe you own the building now.” She pushes the elevator button for the fourth floor.
“I don’t own it. You do.”
The elevator doors seal us in. The thing feels rickety and ancient as it starts taking us up and I make a mental note to have it upgraded.
“Want to do it in the elevator?” I joke, nudging her gently.
“Stop,” she scolds me, her cheeks getting pink. She’s suddenly self-conscious on her home turf.
