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Chapter no 17

The Ex Vows

Itโ€™s like Eliโ€™s pushed meย off a cliff and my brain got stuck behind. My body floods with adrenaline, and then seconds later it actually sinks in.

Every moment since heโ€™s stepped off the plane plays like a movie in hyper speed: his phone allergy, his determination to be present for Adam, how he insisted on coming to Blue Yonder and his assurance that work wouldnโ€™t get in the way. Everything about him broke open because his job was the thing that kept him tightly bound.

โ€œYou quit your job,โ€ I repeat.

โ€œI did.โ€ He exhales sharply, like itโ€™s hitting him anew. โ€œSeven weeks ago, actually.โ€

My jaw drops. โ€œSevenย weโ€” what? Why?โ€

He sits up, rubbing a hand across his jaw. โ€œThatโ€™s a loaded question.โ€

Thereโ€™s a question inย hisย voice, and I get the message loud and clear:ย do you want to hear the answer?

The truth is yes, Iโ€™m desperate to, and also no, because what difference does it make? Whatever reason he did it is for him, not me.

The flash of grief I feel is real, though. The part of me that I sealed off when I left New York feels the pain acutely, wishes that we were having this conversation sitting in the bed we bought, in the apartment we rented. What would we be doing right now instead of this if we hadnโ€™t barricaded ourselves from each other?

Itโ€™s a useless thought, though.

โ€œWell. Wow. Are you starting a new job when you get back to New York, then? One with a hopefully less Luce-like managing director?โ€

At my obvious conversational swerve, disappointment settles into the crease between his brows. โ€œNo.โ€

โ€œNo what?โ€

โ€œNo to all of those things.โ€

โ€œThe new job or New York or Lucifer?โ€

โ€œCorrect,โ€ he says, his mouth twitching.

I narrow my eyes, turning his non-answer over, until I realize heโ€™s answered everything: no to a new job. No to a boss, Lucifer-adjacent or not.

And no to New York.

My heart flips over. โ€œYouโ€™re not going back to New York.โ€ โ€œIโ€™m not going back to New York,โ€ he confirms.

โ€œYouโ€™re coming hoโ€”โ€ I stop myself from sayingย home.ย San Francisco doesnโ€™t belong to us; it wonโ€™t belong toย meย soon enough. โ€œHere?โ€

He nods, eyes fixed on me. โ€œDo you have any thoughts about that?โ€

There are just two:ย thank god weโ€™re in a better place nowย andย STAY in that place however you can. Even if I go to Seattle, Eli will be closer, more present by default. Having him nearly three thousand miles away as a ghost was safe; this is not.

โ€œShould I?โ€

His response is quiet, a small confession. โ€œIโ€™d like you to.โ€

I side-stepped the heavy turn before, but with those four words, Eli brings us right back. Iโ€™m not prepared to talk at length about what this is doing to me. I have no interest in unpacking messy baggage with Eli right now; itโ€™d probably make things worse and thatโ€™s the last thing we need. Weโ€™re supposed to be cleaningย upย messes, keeping things easy.

I have to give him something, thoughโ€”heโ€™ll keep prodding otherwise.

I pick at a thread on the comforter, twist it around my fingers. Pull until it snaps. โ€œI think, as disastrous as things have been, you and I have reachedโ€ฆan understanding.โ€ When I meet his eyes, he raises an acknowledging eyebrow. โ€œAnd anyway, I would never begrudge you wanting to be closer to your family and friends.โ€

โ€œOur friends,โ€ he corrects.

โ€œRight.โ€ Itโ€™s a word of belonging. It hurts and sings through my blood. It fits and feels too small, all at the same time. โ€œSo, youโ€™ll be back in the city as of Sunday?โ€

He leans back on his hands. โ€œWhen I say Iโ€™m coming back here, I mean to California. Iโ€™m flying down to LA on Sunday. Iโ€™ve been working with a recruiter for the past few weeks, and she got me hooked up with a really

strong lead for a strategy director role at a media company down there. Iโ€™ve had two phone interviews with that place, and have two other interviews set up in the coming weeks just in case.โ€

โ€œA strategy director role?โ€ I echo, confused. โ€œYouโ€™re leaving banking?โ€ โ€œYes,โ€ he says, and thereโ€™s so much finality in that word that my spine

straightens.

Years ago, when we were still together, he talked about eventually transitioning over to the client side. Itโ€™s one of the reasons he was eager to work in the TMT sectorโ€”heโ€™d have more flexibility to get us back to the West Coast, where you can fling a dart with your eyes closed and hit a tech or media position.

But that was his plan after heโ€™d made VP.ย Longย after.

โ€œโ€ฆsent me over a few options in tech up in the Bay Area,โ€ heโ€™s saying, โ€œbut with all the layoffs, Iโ€™m not eager to go in that direction. The LA position seems more stable, and I really need to find something soon.โ€

I look over just as a spark of panic returns to Eliโ€™s expression. In a strange way, it makes me feel safe to see it, to know heโ€™s so diligently looking for a replacement. To know that even if heโ€™s closer, heโ€™ll still be wrapped up in his career to some extent.

โ€œIโ€™d been thinking about quitting,โ€ he continues. โ€œA lot, actually. I just didnโ€™t expect to do it when I did. It was sort ofโ€ฆimpulsive.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s not a word Iโ€™dย everย use to describe you with your career,โ€ I say without thinking, and in my voice I hear the weight of our history, the pain of it.

His gaze lands on me; he hears it, too. It feels like he looks for hours, days. Forever.

We have to get out of this. โ€œI just meanโ€”โ€

โ€œIt was a long time coming regardless,โ€ he interrupts, his words careful, his attention intent. โ€œMissing Adamโ€™s bachelor party wasnโ€™t the only thing that brought me to my decision, not by a mile, but it was the catalyst. In the car on Friday, you said it wasnโ€™t my fault that I missed it, but storm or not, itย was. I shouldโ€™ve told them no, but my anxiety wouldnโ€™t let me and my priorities wereโ€ฆโ€ His eyes glitter in the low light. He looks furious and

devastated, but also determined, that same emotion he stepped off the plane with. โ€œThat job came first at a time when it shouldnโ€™t have, and I paid the price for it.โ€

A fissure cracks my heart before I can stop it. Heโ€™s not talking about us, but in another life, that sentiment would fit perfectly. A puzzle piece weโ€™ve been missing for years.

Ifย we were talking about us.

God, now weย reallyย have to get out of this. โ€œDoes Adam know?โ€ Something flashes in his eyesโ€”that disappointment again, maybe.

โ€œYouโ€™re the only person Iโ€™ve told, other than my family. Iโ€™ll tell him once theyโ€™re back from the honeymoon.โ€

I nod, then say softly, โ€œWow. You really blew up your life.โ€

Our gazes catch and hold. I feel so many thingsโ€”confusion wondering why now and not five years ago, sadness knowing the answer would likely devastate me, fear and pride and such an intense, unwelcome wantingโ€”and I hope he doesnโ€™t see any of that. I hope he sees a Georgia whoโ€™s surprised but unruffled by this news. Whoโ€™s unruffled by him in her bed at three in the morning on a Tuesday, in the place where we started to tip into love years ago.

After an unbearable beat, he looks down, his ears turning pink. โ€œBelatedly. But yeah, I did.โ€

โ€œHey, stop worrying about the bachelor party.โ€ I nudge his ankle and he points a private, mirthless smile at the bed. โ€œSeriously, Eli, youโ€™re here for the most important part. Youโ€™re literally saving their wedding.โ€

He looks up. โ€œSo are you.โ€

I hum noncommittally, ignoring the narrow-eyed stare he gives me. I can see him ready to circle back to his earlierย are you okay?ย But now that the adrenaline has drained from my body, Iโ€™m about to fall over.

โ€œI should go,โ€ Eli says quietly, sensing the shift. โ€œThank you forโ€ฆwell, Jesus. Everything. Sorry I fell apart on you.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t be sorry.โ€

I nearly blurt out what it meant to see him like that, to have him trust me. Eli Mora doesnโ€™t let himself come undone; for a secretly messy person

like me, it was like seeing my reflection. Itโ€™s not something Iโ€™d ever run away from. Itโ€™s something I crave.

Maybe thatโ€™s why I say, โ€œYou donโ€™t have to go.โ€

Eliโ€™s already swung his legs over the side of the bed, but he freezes. โ€œWhat?โ€

โ€œThat loveseat is for toddlers. Just stay here tonight.โ€

He gazes at me, and in those seconds, I think five times about snatching my words back. But then he says, voice pitched low and rough, โ€œI canโ€™t.โ€

โ€œWhy?โ€ A stupid question. I can think of a million reasons we shouldnโ€™t, and yet the single reason we should wipes all of that away: this bed isnโ€™t either of ours. Sharing it tonight doesnโ€™t have to count.

โ€œIโ€”โ€ He grimaces, then lets out a helpless, pained sound.

โ€œWhat if you have another panic attack?โ€ I want to smack myself for pushing. โ€œI donโ€™t waโ€” you shouldnโ€™t have to be alone.โ€

I donโ€™t want you to be alone. He hears the words I didnโ€™t even say, and some of his hesitation dissolves.

โ€œItโ€™s fine,โ€ I say, swallowing hard. โ€œThis bed is more than big enough for both of us.โ€

โ€œBut is it big enough for the three of us?โ€ โ€œWhat?โ€

He glances down between us. โ€œNick Miller here.โ€

Dammit. I yank one of the pillows up, whipping it at him. He catches it with a laugh.

โ€œNo judgments for my pillow person, please. Are you staying or going?โ€

Eli looks at the bed, at the pillows, at me. A word floats between us, a text sent through space and memory:ย lonely.

Maybe we both are, and have been. โ€œOkay,โ€ he says, โ€œIโ€™ll stay.โ€

Outside, time was liquid, but it solidifies here. Itโ€™s now and heโ€™s sliding back into the bed. It carries no memories. Nothing can pull us under.

Still, I hold my breath as I click off the lamp, plunging us into a darkness that immediately pulls us closer, in tension if not in body. The

moon peeks in through the window, slicing across Eliโ€™s face as he turns toward me when I lie down.

โ€œNight,โ€ he murmurs.

โ€œGood night,โ€ I whisper back before turning away from him.

I send a silent threat to Nick Miller to keep us on our sides, and then, exhausted, I fall into a deep, black sleep.

 

 

Awareness comes in pieces. Atย first itโ€™s warmth, increasing to a heat that works its way under my skin so deliciously I arch toward it.

And then itโ€™s a naked back under my skimming palms, a solid thigh pressed between mine, the brief chill of metal and then warm skin as my mouth traverses the column of a throat. I sigh against the rumble that vibrates my skin.

Itโ€™s the kind of vivid, early morning memory-dream that used to torture me, but now I sink into it, remember the hands that wouldโ€”

โ€œYes,โ€ I sigh as a broad palm cups my ass, cinching me tight to the body Iโ€™m wrapped around. Fingers graze the waistband of my sleep shorts, moving under my shirt to trace the column of my spine until they curl around my ribs, digging into the underside of my breast. Thereโ€™s a neediness to the touch that makes my stomach spiral.

I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the weak sunshine trying to get in, any reality that will break this apart. I want to live in this liminal space where thereโ€™s a heart beating hard against mine, someone who reaches for me first. Itโ€™s why Iโ€™ve always loved early-morning sex. Thereโ€™s an instinct to it that no other time allows, just bodies and hearts doing what they want more than anything else.

I crave a mouth against my throat the second before itโ€™s thereโ€”teeth scraping my skin, almost biting, a burn that dissolves into throbbing pressure. A deep groan echoes mine. Someone desperate for me.

No, not someone. Eli.

His sleep-slurred, โ€œFuck, Georgia,โ€ is pressed against my cheek as Iโ€™m gently pushed onto my back.

My eyes pop open.

Itโ€™s not a memory or a dream. Itโ€™s now, time as twisted around us as the sheets. Eliโ€™s hovering over me, his chain dangling in the bare space between us. His pupils are wide, mouth parted and swollen from sleep. I want them swollen from me.

Itโ€™s a fully coherent thought and a terrible idea, and yetโ€”

My hands move up his sides with a mind of their own. He shivers, his eyes falling shut, and my body gets heavy again, not with sleep but something hazy and warm like it. I search for telltale signs that Eliโ€™s in one of his dream states.

โ€œWhere are you?โ€ I whisper.

His Adamโ€™s apple bobs in his throat. Huskily, he says, โ€œWith you.โ€ โ€œAre you awake?โ€

His eyes are wild and hot, not because he isnโ€™t here. Because heย is. โ€œDo you want me to be?โ€

Itโ€™s an offer, an escape from liability, and Iโ€™m not strong enough to deny it. This is real, but close enough to what weโ€™ve done before that we could slot it into another memory once itโ€™s done. It wouldnโ€™t count against my list of reasons not to get wrapped up in him.

And god, I miss it so much. I missย himย so much. โ€œCan you be awake in three minutes instead?โ€

His expression slackens in relief, and he lets some of his weight settle onto me, slotting in right where I need him. โ€œYouโ€™re in charge of the timer.โ€

โ€œWhy?โ€ I gasp, arching my hips against his.

โ€œBecause I wonโ€™t be able to stop,โ€ he murmurs. โ€œAnd we have to.

Right?โ€

โ€œYes,โ€ I start to say, but he dissolves the word when his mouth slants over mine.

Thereโ€™s no easing into it. Eli knows exactly what I likeโ€”a teasing tongue sliding against mine at first, an overwhelmed groan as he takes it deeper and then pulls back to bite at my lower lip. The reality of kissing

him again is a shock I couldnโ€™t have prepared myself for, like finding something I thought Iโ€™d lost forever sitting on my top shelf. Within reach the whole time, back in my hands again.

I know I have to put it away, and I will. I will. In three minutes.

His hand slides under my shirt, resting at the base of my ribs, and I arch, wanting him to touch me like he used to.

โ€œYou can,โ€ I say against his jaw.

He does. Puts me into the palm of his hand, pinches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The teasing is done.

โ€œFuck, you feel so good,โ€ he breathes. โ€œI didnโ€™t thinkโ€”โ€

He groans, a frustrated sound that matches his fractured thoughts. I dig my fingers into his back, urging him closer.

His breath stutters, fanning over my mouth as he pulls back to take me in, something disbelieving in his eyes just before he kisses me again. Itโ€™s deep and slow, an assurance that he wonโ€™t be rushed despite our ticking clock.ย Time is nothing, he tells me. Itโ€™s a demand for me to follow, and I do, because weโ€™re here, itโ€™s now. Itโ€™s a memory, a dream, something real.

We hold on wherever we canโ€”me gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, him pulling my thigh over his hip to make our connection tighter.

โ€œI could make you come in three minutes,โ€ he murmurs, pulsing against me in tiny, unbearable waves. Heโ€™s so hard itโ€™s close to pain, but I like it.

โ€œOne,โ€ I gasp out.

His smile curls against my mouth, because he could do that, too, and I lick at his bottom lip, take it between my teeth. It snaps him out of his amusementโ€”or maybe itโ€™s the reminder that weโ€™re running out of time. He tangles a hand in my hair, grips it while he kisses me, holding me right there for him, for his warm, pleading mouth and his soft, wild sounds.

I could make any sound in return, say anything, beg him and be good for him and heโ€™d take it all. Heโ€™d ask for more. Itโ€™d break him open, and god, I want it. Eli is so contained, canโ€™t bear to relinquish that tight fist of control. He doesnโ€™t know how beautiful he is when he falls apart, when his hair is wild and his neck is flushed, when there are bite marks on his chest and heโ€™s telling me everything he wants, how much he needs me.

I know weโ€™re out of time, but heโ€™s moving against me like itโ€™s fucking, even though it canโ€™t be. Heโ€™s brushing his thumb over the high plane of my cheek like itโ€™s tender and timeless, even though it canโ€™t be that either.

โ€œI dreamed about this,โ€ he whispers as he starts kissing down my neck. โ€œTouching you like this. Tasting you.โ€

I lace my fingers through his hair, staring up at the ever-lightening ceiling before I close my eyes to shut it out. โ€œLast night?โ€

He only hums into my skin, sucking at my throat. He pulls back to appraise the mark he leaves, then looks at me with possessive, hungry eyes.

โ€œGeorgia,โ€ he breathes. โ€œIโ€”โ€

A burst of laughter echoes outside. Cole and someone else. A few other someones, maybe. Theyโ€™re not close enough to know what Eli and I are doing, but close enough to burst through that liminal space and let reality slide in.

Theyโ€™re getting ready for another day of bringing Adam and Graceโ€™s wedding to life. Thatโ€™s why weโ€™re here, too, not to roll around in bed.

With a frustrated groan, I slither out from underneath the beautiful weight of Eliโ€™s body. My heart is pushing at my ribs, desperate to get back to him, but logic is finally kicking in.

โ€œTimeโ€™s up,โ€ I croak out.

Eliโ€™s sprawled out on the bed, hard and flushed, his gaze raking over me from head to toe. I canโ€™t imagine what I look like right nowโ€”a total mess. Heโ€™s looking at me as if he likes me messy. As if he wants it.

No. I donโ€™t have to say it out loud to make that clear for both of us.

He levers into a seated position and wipes a hand over his mouth. โ€œYeah, I know.โ€

Panic rushes through me, wondering if weโ€™ve ruined our tenuous truce, if slipping back into the past for even three minutes is going to send us back to the way we were days ago. Bizarrely, that option is now the worst-case scenario.

God, we shouldnโ€™t have done this.

Eli opens his mouth, and my heart drops to my feet. โ€œWhat the hell happened to the cottage?โ€ I hear.

He closes his eyes. โ€œIโ€™mโ€ฆgoing to go take care of that.โ€ โ€œOkay.โ€

โ€œOkay.โ€ He stands up and I look away as he adjusts himself, my entire body flushing. โ€œIโ€™ll see you for the bakery appointment, yeah?โ€

โ€œYeah. Of course,โ€ I say, but heโ€™s already halfway out the door.

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