Page 106 of For The Weekend
I shrug.
“I understand why you’re so hesitant, and I’m really sorry.”
I lean down to kiss her again, but she stops me with two fingers against my lips.
“I also had a conversation with my mother.”
My brows shoot up in interest.
“I told her that she had to stop speaking to me the way she does, making me feel bad.” I don’t have time to ask more questions, because Eloise goes right on. “She tried to make me feel bad about that, but you were right in that I had to stop letting her rule me. I had to stand up to her. I told her how she constantly makes me feel like shit, and she was quiet at first. I think because she must’ve realized what I was saying, how much she’s hurt me, but then she tried to turn it around on me.”She flicks her hand. “So now I have a new list of things to talk about with my therapist. I’m just done being her punching bag. I can’t have her in my life if she’s going to continue to treat me the way she does. And you, too. She has to be nice to you. I told her that I love you, and if she can’t accept us being together, then she can fuck right off.”
Pride swells in my chest. Not only because she did something really difficult and stood her ground, but that she claimed me.
“There’s my girl,” I murmur and cover her mouth with mine. I pour everything I feel for her into that kiss—my pride, my love, my devotion. Pressing my forehead to hers, I tell her, “I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re strong and brave, and I love you. I love you so much.”
She gasps at my declaration, her smile as bright as the sun.
My sunshine.
“Say it again,” she orders, and I will tell her as many times as she wants to hear it.
“I love you, Eloise, and I want to be with you. You’re mine.”
She speaks her answer against my lips. “You’re mine too.”
“Look,” I say, swiveling my head to show her the new ink on the side of my neck.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “Is that…”
I nod. “For you.”
“Are they…”
I nod again. “Your lips.”
“How?”
I face her again, but all of her attention is on the hot-pink lips I had tattooed by Ian. A perfect replica of her mouth. “The night we went to dinner before the wedding.” I mime how she patted her lips after she put her lipstick on. “I kept the tissue.”
She stares at me with wide-eyed wonder. “I can’t believeyou did that. Kept a tissue.” Then she drags her fingertips over her permanent mark. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“I’ve always got you with me. It’s not the only one either.” I take off my coat so I can lift the sleeve of my T-shirt to show her the one Cash inked on my triceps. The small prairie dog with bright, rainbow-colored fur, holding a cinnamon roll.
“Oh my god! I was just talking with Sloane about prairie dogs. They’re Micah’s latest obsession, and now I’m kind of obsessed with them too. Did you know they have tight-knit family units called coteries and those coteries form little neighborhoods?” She presses her fingers together in front of her face as if she’s becoming a prairie dog in front of me. “Isn’t that adorable? There are whole prairie dog towns.”
I love anything she loves, so I nod, extraordinarily happy at the coincidence of having a perfect tattoo to represent her.
“When did you get that?” she asks, tracing her fingertips over the tiny rodent on my arm.
“Before our fight. I lost a bet and had to get something by one of the guys.”
“That’s why I didn’t notice.” She frowns, touching it, opening her mouth like she might apologize again, but like Ian said, the past is in the past.
“It’s over. We don’t need to keep rehashing it. Just tell me you love me and keep moving forward, okay?”
“I love you.” She loops her arms around my neck, ducking her face so her nose skims my throat. “You’re a big softy, aren’t you? My giant refrigerator is actually quite ooey, gooey underneath.”
I’m about to argue, but she presses her lips to my neck, right overherlips, sucking at the spot. Goddamn, this woman drives me wild.
