Page 80 of Endless Love

“About what?” I look at him curiously, and Ivan hesitates.

“If we’re really going to do this together, you have to trust me,” I insist. “What is it?”

Ivan gives me a guarded look. “We’ll find a place to hide out. It will take me a couple of days to sort it all out. But I think I can get you back home.”

“What?” I blink at him. “But you said?—”

“I know.” He lets out a sharp breath. “I don’t know. But I have something I can try?—”

“Ivan, you don’t have to do anything.” I lean forward, catching his gaze with mine. “I’ve already resigned myself to not going back. And if I have you?—”

“That’s the thing.” He shakes his head. “I have to fix this, Charlotte. And I will.”

“Ivan—”

“I’m not going to let you lose your whole life for me.” He looks at me, and I can tell that whatever he’s thinking, he’s not going to be dissuaded from it.

“Not when you’ve become my whole life.”

34

IVAN

Charlotte doesn’t know what I’m planning. If she did, she’d never let me go through with it. But I’m not going to tell her the details.

Just that I’m going to do my best to fix what I’ve broken.

We get a ride across the border to Mexico—an expensive one, given who I have to contact in order to get it, another associate of “Dave’s” who doesn’t come cheap. But we make it, and although I can see the fear in Charlotte’s eyes when we hand over our forged passports, they go through without issue.

We’re home free. She doesn’t say anything else about my promise to get her back home, and oddly, I feel like she’s hoping I’ve forgotten about it. Like she wants me to, because she’s afraid of what I’ll do to make that happen.

Truthfully, I’m afraid of what will happen, too. But I refuse to force her into exile with me. She’s given up everything to be mine, and as much as I want to ride off into the sunset with her, I have to play this one last card. I didn’t want to—but I can’t in good conscience hold onto it.

Not when I know how deeply I love her, now. Not when I know there’s a chance I canreallymake it right.

If I can give her her old life back, then I need to be willing to sacrifice my new one. And I’ll do that, for her.

I’ve realized that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

“This is beautiful,” Charlotte breathes, when we walk into the beachside villa that I rented for us. It faces the water, a sandy private beach stretching out in front of the porch, and inside is big and airy, all light wooden floors and huge windows. The outside is a pretty white stone, with a terracotta roof and flowers blooming all around it, and my chest aches for reasons that have nothing to do with the gunshot wounds in my shoulder and side.

I want to stay here with her. I want to throw out all the plans I’ve just made, wrap her in my arms, and tell her this is our new home until she decides she wants to move on to somewhere else. I want to tell her that I’ll give her anything else she wants, so long as I don’t have to lose her.

But she’s made it clear from the beginning that what she really wants is to go home. That she wants her friends. The life I stole away. And I need to give that back to her, even if she thinks she’s willing to give it up now for me.

For the rest of the evening, though, I pretend that’s not what’s going to happen. We shower in the huge outdoor shower in the back. Charlotte slides down to her knees, taking me in her mouth as I run my hands through her wet hair, until I can’t stand it any longer. I sink down onto the wooden bench next to the wall, sitting back as she climbs into my lap and rides me until we both come. She keeps letting me come inside of her, and even though I grabbed some contraceptives from the last pharmacy we were able to stop at, I know we need to quit.

I don’t want to, though. I want to fill her up, every time I fuck her. And neither of us seems willing to think too hard about the potential consequences.

When we’re done, we dry off and get dressed, and we walk down to the store that’s a few blocks away. I buy us a bottle oftequila, limes, and all of the things I need to make Charlotte a steak dinner—notover a campfire this time. She sits at the small island in the airy kitchen, sipping at the tequila soda and lime while I cook a steak with mushrooms and onions, street corn, and a salad. We eat at the island, with the salty breeze from the water coming in, and we go to sleep in the comfortable king-sized bed in the master bedroom, more of the salt breeze blowing in around us. I had thought I’d want to be inside Charlotte as many times as I could before I do what I need to in order to fix all of this, but I find that tonight, at least, I want to hold her instead. There will still be a little time, at least, and tonight, I just want her in my arms.

I give myself that one day, from the time we get to Mexico until the following morning, to just be happy with her. To have a taste of what it would be like if I could live this dream forever. I fall asleep knowing she loves me, and I wake up with her hair spilling over my shoulder, her sweet scent in my nose, and her soft skin against mine.

And I finally know—reallyknow—what it means to be happy.

I get up, slowly, before she wakes up, and I go out to the back porch to make a call. I figure out what time it will be back in Chicago, and dial the number.

Dariev, one of my father’s men, answers on the second ring.

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