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“Huh?”
Thunder rumbles, but it’s further off. The rain hasn’t slowed, and it plasters our clothes to our bodies. I take her hand. “Inside. We?—”
Marci pulls out of my grasp. “No. I want to know why.”
“Why what?” I ask. “You’re going to catch your death out here.”
“Why did you pay off my debt?”
“Because we’re husband and wife,” I say. “Because I want you to be happy and successful.”
“But—” She licks raindrops off her lips, her lashes fluttering as she peers at me through them, those emerald green eyes capturing my heart. “It’s fake. It’s supposed to be fake, so why do it?”
“I committed to you.”
Fuck. I’m not ready to tell her yet. I need to prove it to her instead, to show her, because words are not my thing. I’m not Cash. I’m not the type who writes letters and songs.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because I take this seriously.”
“Why?”
“Fuck, Marci,” I snap, taking a step back. “This isn’t the time to talk about this. You’re half-drunk, soaking wet, and we need?—”
“I want to know,” she shouts at me. “I want to know why you’re taking this seriously.”
Don’t be a little bitch.
“You are important to me. The most important to me. So help me God, if you ask me why again, I’m gonna lose it.”
“We hated each other,” she says. “This doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense that you want things to be real between us.”
I freeze.
“Or that you’re worried that I could never love you.”
So, she wasn’t asleep that night. I’m fucking mortified, but I push through it.
“It’s always been you,” I say it softly.
“What?”
“0120.”
“Okay?”
“That’s my code for my phone.”
“Yeah. You gave it to me.”
“0120, is the day.” Fuck. The rain drips down my face, runs over my lips. “The day you served me coffee in the diner for the first time. It was January twentieth. You were dressed in one of those silk camisoles, and your hair was down. You had on red, fuck off lipstick, and you told me I could order a cup of coffee or get the fuck out of your diner.”
“You—”
“So, I ordered the cup of coffee, and I went and sat down in the corner, and I forced myself to drink it, and I hated every fucking sip, but it didn’t matter because I got to watch you. Talking to people. Laughing. Smiling. You didn’t see me leave, but I came back.” The thunder booms closer, and I raise my voice. “I came back every day and got that coffee so I could see your smile. Does that answer your question, Marci Taylor?”
She releases a breath, and it mists in front of her face.
