Page 89 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

I opened the door to the penthouse and stepped inside. Cool air-conditioning slid across my skin, leaving prickles in its wake. I’d gotten used to the open windows and fresh air on the ranch. The warm days and cool nights. Way’s truck windows down and the green scent of recently harvested hay wafting in with the deep blue, never-ending sky visible through the windshield.

My apartment was dark, with only the light of a small lamp in the entry hall glowing a paltry welcome. City lights from the wall of windows in the living room beckoned me toward the view that had sold me on this place several years ago.

I chucked my wallet and dead phone on the entry table before following the lure of the city view into the living room and tossing the bag from the bodega onto the coffee table. Before I reached the windows, I caught a glimpse of a man’s silhouette and stopped short.

“Way?” I breathed, half wondering if I was imagining him there.

He moved toward me quickly and threw himself against me with a tight hug. “How is she? I got here as fast as I could.”

“You… came?” I stood frozen in shock. “Today?”

“Of course I came.” His hands roamed up and down my back, like he wanted to soothe me and assure himself I was whole all at the same time. “Is Camille okay? I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”

I inhaled the travel scent of him. Faded sweat, stale airplane air, and the barest hint of my shave gel left over from early this morning. It seemed like days ago that he’d stood next to me with only a towel around his waist, teasing me for singing show tunes in the shower.

I cleared the emotion from my throat. “She’s okay. Asleep. They kicked me out.”

“Thank fuck.” He pulled back and cupped my face in his hands. His eyes were filled with affectionate concern. “How are you? You okay?”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm me, and I wondered what he’d do if I started sobbing right there and then.

“Sure.”

He tilted his head and furrowed his brows for a beat before understanding softened his expression. “Right. Well, I’m not okay. I’m exhausted from worrying. And I’m hungry. Starving, really. You have any food in this place?”

I pointed to the bag on the coffee table. “Snack stuff. We could order something?”

He let out a laugh. “Silas, it’s after midnight. Surely no place is open this late.”

I blinked at him before a laugh bubbled up. As soon as it let loose, several more came after it, one after the other after the other, until I was laughing so hard tears were leaking out of my eyes. “It’s New York, Waylon. They don’t roll up the carpets at sundown here.”

The edge of his lips quirked up. “That doesn’t sound right.”

There was enough light from the lamp in the entryway to remind me just how blue his eyes were.

“I love you, too,” I blurted. And for some reason, the admission fucking broke me.

The breath disappeared from my lungs, leaving me heaving for oxygen. Tears multiplied and began streaming down my face.

“Baby?” Way said, moving me bodily to the sofa and shoving me down onto it. “Breathe. In and out. Steady. In through your nose… out through your mouth.”

I shook my head in an effort to tell him I was fine. This was just… no big deal. I would be okay any minute now.

Way pulled me into his arms and began rubbing his large hand up and down my back while cupping the side of my face with his other one. I tucked my face into the front of his neck and tried to catch the scent of home on his skin.

He murmured calming reassurance against my hair. “Shh. She’s okay. She’s going to be okay. From what I’ve heard, Camille’s tough as nails, just like you.” He pressed a kiss to my head. “You must have been so scared. It’s okay to be scared. You’re allowed to be upset. The world won’t end, Silas.”

I let the tears come. They brought so much junk with them my brain felt flooded. Images of my parents’ disinterest and criticism, their demand to control my money, my sister’s dogged determination to help others, my disillusionment with Justin Hardy, and the assumption that all men would betray me. The unbelievable good fortune of choosing the right barstool at just the right time on the exact right night to meet this beautiful, adventurous, dedicated, loving man.

“I love you,” I said again. The words came out in an embarrassing croak.

He tilted my face so he could meet my eyes. “Well, I sure hope so since you married me. That’s usually how those things work, you know.” Way’s thumbs swiped the wetness from my cheeks as he continued teasing me. “Although it would have been nice to hear the words several hours ago when I stood there in front of your friends making an ass out of myself with a one-sided declaration.”

I let out a wet laugh. “They already knew.”

Way’s eyes held the kind of love I’d never received before. I was stunned by the depth of emotion in his expression. “And now they know just how much I love you, too. I told them to handle everything for me and then fucked off to the Big Apple on a private jet like I was some kind of fancy pants without a care in the world.”

I leaned in and kissed him. It was desperate and possessive, frantic and raw. I needed to know I had him for real this time. I needed to know it was no longer temporary.

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