“Eli, you don’t need to change your house for me.”
“I want it to beourhouse. We can make it fit us both.”
Tears prick behind my eyes. “What about blue?”
He nods. “Blue is nice. Light or dark?”
“Light. But the island should be a little darker.”
“And the counters?”
“White.”
I know he’s distracting me—keeping my mind off Gia—and it’s working. I appreciate him so much right now.
Soon enough, he sets a plate of steaming linguine in front of me, tomato sauce piled high and buried beneath a generous snowfall of parmesan. Ty joins us for dinner. It’s only fair, considering how much he’s done for us over the past few days.
Tomorrow is Monday, but I’ve already emailed my boss tosay I won’t be coming in. I didn’t give the real reason—we didn’t report Gia’s break-in, for obvious reasons—so I simply called in sick.
“How do we explain Gia’s disappearance?" I ask Eli as he helps me into the living room and onto the sofa.
Tyler is the one to answer, speaking from the doorway. “I’ll call Karl, he has people who can fake a trail. We’ll make it seem like she went to Spain or something.”
Tyler leaves once I’m mobile again, and Eli and I spend the evening watching rom-coms. I need something light after the weekend’s events.
When it’s time for bed, Eli carries me upstairs—to the bathroom so I can brush my teeth and wash my face—then straight into bed. I don’t bother arguing. I just curl into his arms, exactly where I want to be.
Eli’s solid chest rests beneath my head like a warm pillow, sunlight filtering in through the curtains.
Lips brush my hair. “Good morning, Angel.”
“Morning,” I yawn, snuggling closer.
“Do you want a shower today?”
“Are you saying I smell?” I tease, feigning offense.
His chest rumbles with laughter. “Well, now that you mention it—”
“Eli!” I gasp, swatting at him as I sit up.
He’s out of bed in an instant, helping me to my feet and guiding me toward the bathroom.
He settles me onto the toilet, then drops to his knees to carefully remove the dressing over my stab wound. It isn’t a huge cut, but it’s deep. Ty’s stitches are small and neat, though he warned I might be left with a scar.
The shower kicks on, steam filling the room. Eli helps me up and beneath the warm spray. As the water cascades over myskin, I sigh, heat loosening the tightness in my chest.
He lathers soap onto a washcloth and drags it gently over my shoulders, my arms, across my stomach, then down my legs. He avoids the cut, but by the time I step out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, the rest of me feels renewed.
His arms come around me, steady and firm—keeping me grounded, keeping me upright while my leg still aches.
Our reflection meets my gaze in the mirror. It’s his expression that keeps my insecurities at bay. The open, unguarded love he wears so effortlessly.
“I love you,” I murmur, sinking back into his embrace.
His arms tighten. “I was hoping you’d say it again.”
Our eyes meet in the glass. “I mean it.”