I make my way down the stairs the next morning wearing only Crey’s shirt, a pair of knee-high socks, and no panties. My plan is to oh-so-carefully bend over the counter and tease Crey with a flash of my goods, and tempt him into giving me what I want.
Last night after he scattered my Scrabble pieces everywhere, he was totally dirty, taking my ass again with his fingers—and his tongue—but refusing to take my pussy because he claimed it still needed another day of rest.
I’m bound and determined that’s going to change today. But my plan is derailed when I overhear Crey talking in the back room through the partially closed door.
“I don’t think you understand, Cannon, this is more important. Holly is more important. I know that you’re—I know. I know. But you’re not listening to me.” Crey turns his head and catches sight of me. “I’ll call you back later.”
He must not even listen for a reply because he drops the phone almost instantly and shoves the door open.
“Hey, you’re up. How’d you sleep on our floor mattress? I still can’t believe we broke the bed.” His eyes dart to the repaired table. “And the table.”
“Crey, what’s wrong?”
His body language is off. His brow is creased and his jaw is tight, his demeanor at odds with his lighthearted words.
He shoves a hand through his hair and sighs, his lips turning down into a frown. “You know how I said sometimes I’m needed to show up and be intimidating in person and throw my weight around? Now is one of those times. I need to be back in New York.”
Reality. That’s what sucked the easiness out of Creighton’s mood.
It wouldn’t be realistic for me to think that we could stay in this little bubble forever. My time is slipping away too. If this is going to work, then we both have to attend to our lives.
“Then you should get back to New York and throw your weight around,” I tell him.
His face is set, without a hint of a smile anywhere in his expression. “I told you I’d stay until you understood that nothing is more important than you, and if I leave, then I’m not doing that.”
Once again, warmth spreads through me, and I shake my head as I lay a hand on his arm. “You’ve already shown me that. I believe you. Now go back to New York and take care of business like the ruthless guy I know you want to unleash.”
A little of the tension drains out of his posture. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. You told me this is as real as it gets, and real means that we each handle our own shit with the support of the other beside or behind us, whatever the case may be. If I can be with you, I will, and vice versa. We’ll figure it out.”
Crey leans down and brushes a kiss along my jaw. “I love you, Holly.”
“Then go conquer the world. I’ll be waiting for you when you get done.”
He lifts his head and stares down at me, his eyes intent, and so much emotion shining in them. The force of it hits me in my chest.
“I thought I had everything,” he says in a low voice. “And then I met you. Now I do.”
I swallow, determined not to let the tears burning the back of my eyes free. “You can’t say things like that. I’m seriously not equipped to handle it.”
“I didn’t know I was equipped to say things like that until you either. Guess we’re both going to have to find our footing here.”
Nodding, I squeeze his arm. “Get your stuff packed, and I’ll drive you to the airport. I guess I should ask if you mind if I keep the rental car and take it back to Nashville.”
He covers my hand with his. “Of course I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind that you’re getting a new car whether you want one or not. And I’m picking it out, since apparently your last two were Pontiacs, and Detroit doesn’t even make those anymore.”
“Whatever. Just know that I’m still gonna drive like a girl from Gold Haven, so you better get good insurance.”
Under his breath, he murmurs, “On second thought, I’m buying you a tank.”
I just laugh. I don’t honestly care what he buys me. As long as it has four wheels and gets me from A to B. If it’s too outrageously expensive, I’ll bitch . . . and maybe concede gracefully.
Now that we’ve stepped into this new version of us, how he chooses to spend his money doesn’t rub me the wrong way at every turn. Creighton doesn’t need to buy me—he already has me. Now I think he’s trying to cherish me and take care of me, which is something altogether different, and I’m not going to throw it back in his face.
“When are you heading back?” he asks.
Shrugging, I flip through my mental schedule, considering I don’t have my phone at hand. “Probably not for another day or two. I’ve got some time.”
I glance around the quiet room. “This has actually been exactly what I needed. I’m going to stay, fine-tune the songs as much as I can before I head back. I might even try to pack some stuff in my room and make a trip to Goodwill. I need to make a decision about the house.”
“What decision do you want to make?”
“I should sell it. I have no earthly reason to keep it.”
“But?”
“But I’m just not quite ready yet.”
“Holly.” Crey lifts his hand to my face. “You don’t ever have to sell if you don’t want to.”
“It seems silly to keep paying the property taxes and utilities when no one lives here.”
“Baby,” he says, his eyes soft. “We can afford it.”