Page 109 of Best Man Speaking
Her whole body relaxes back into her seat. “Julian owes me fifty bucks.”
“Erica,” I grit out.
“Sorry, sorry. There’s just nothing like hearing your husband of only hours already owes you money.”
I shoot a brow up in annoyance. “Still not helping.”
“Jules and I had a tiny little wager. After speaking to Hallie after Vegas, he thought she’d be the one to say it first. I, however, had utter faith in you, Marcus, to be the giant softie I know you are deep under your ridiculously sarcastic exterior.”
“Why would you even think that?”
She laughs now. “I’m not sure which of my comments you’re referring to, but you’re a giant-ass softie who created a whole damn charity to help young people. And as for you and Hallie—did you think you two were subtle? That the way you look at each other leaves anything to the imagination? Hello, I am no idiot. Marcus, Hallie knows I want her to stay, but if I thought you were going to be a negative in her life, I would’ve pushed her to go. Hell, she’d already have a flight booked.”
“I’m sorry I’ve made it easy for her to leave. She told me she’d thought about selling the house and staying—before I messed things up anyway.”
Erica kicks her feet up, resting pale-blue heels on the chair beside her. It doesn’t look remotely comfortable, but then again, considering the height of her heels, it’s probably the most relief her feet have felt all day.
“Well, I think you have a better chance than you think of her staying.”
It’s with that little bit of encouragement that I stand, an idea forming. I’m beyond ready to head out, ready to chase Hallie down to show her I’m in this for real if she’s willing to give us a chance.
All the while, Erica continues to recline, clearly unbothered.
“Marcus?” she calls as I turn, reaching for my jacket. “Try not to push her too much tonight. Let her digest what you said. You guys are worth a real chance, and she knows it.”
It’s just after midnight, and I’m pacing back and forth through my home office as my printer takes its sweet-ass time to do the job it’s built for.
Once I’d made the decision, I’d had to act quickly, leaving the reception as soon as the bride and groom had departed while everyone else had continued to dance.
Before I head out, I print the final document sent between me and my lawyer and place it on my desk. That one would have to wait until morning.
The night is completely still as I walk across the small path toward the pool house. Key in hand, I turn the lock, a distinct feeling of guilt rising within me. This might be my property, but it’s currently Hallie’s space, and there’s no way she’d see this as anything other than me intruding.
I take a fortifying breath and continue with my plan. It’s a last-ditch effort to bring her home, to keep her here.
Where she can’t miss them, across the coffee table and spread over the couch, I lay out the multitude of blueprints and design plans I’ve brought with me. The plans I’ve been working on painstakingly over the last few months, over the last few years. Plans I’ve been putting together in my mind for longer than I care to admit. Plans that include the kitchen being extended so a large island can float in the middle, the living room with a fireplace, and a dog-washing station built into the laundry for the girl who’d always wanted a pet and had never been allowed to have one.
But more specifically, I include the specs for the attic conversion, the one she and her gran had always dreamed of with large skylights in the vaulted ceiling placed over both the bed and the en suite bathroom, where a claw-foot tub would reside directly underneath. The person beneath them would be able to view the sky and the stars to their heart’s content.
It’s a home I’d wanted to renovate, to fix and restore, to build for Hallie to show I understood what she’d wanted and that I could give it to her. That I could be enough for her.
I wake to the slamming of a door and heavy footsteps approaching my bedroom. I can’t find it within myself to be too bothered about it. My security alarm isn’t going off, so it can only be one of a very select few who’ve made their way inside. But then I remember last night, the plans I’d left for Hallie, and my brain pings awake.
Forcing open my blurry eyes, I spy Julian at the foot of my bed. It’s the day after his wedding. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing here. He’s definitely not who I want here.
“Don’t you have a wife whose brains you should be screwing out?” I ask inappropriately, if not unkindly.
Julian’s smile is feral. “I should be. But Erica just got a frantic call from Hallie. I don’t know what you left for her last night, but she’s gone.”
I fly out of bed, devastation rocking through me and settling like ice in my veins.
“What?” I shout.
I grab a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from my dresser. I pull my clothes on, barely able to get the buttons of my jeans done up in my hurry.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I rub my hands over my face, pulling at my hair.
