Page 78 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Twenty

Beckham was in so much damn trouble. What waswrongwith him? For being someone whose job was privacy and security, he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut around Eliza. All that careful work he’d done since escaping his old life, all those privacy layers he’d put in place, all the alternate history he’d concocted for his new existence were apparently obliterated from his mind when he got into a conversation with Eliza. And he couldn’t even blame booze for his loose lips.

Eliza simply gave him that look that said she really wanted tounderstandhim, and then he…couldn’t fucking lie. She was like truth serum. He’d never told anyone in his new life about being forbidden from mainstream movies or about his relationship with Jess or how he’d felt like he’d violated Jess even though she’d been saying yes—the way that memory still sat on his chest like an elephant.

Maybe it was because Eliza was a therapist. She’d been trained to draw out people’s secrets and shames, to channel empathy and safety. But he suspected it was more than that. Something about her, the way she was so open with him, made him want to give her the same back. He didn’t want to be the guy lying to her—about anything. He wanted to tell her who he was. He wanted to not have to be careful about what he said. He wanted to tell her…that it’d bothered him to see her kiss Will tonight.

He groaned aloud as he closed the door to his condo behind him. He resisted the urge to bang his head against it. This was not how this thing with Eliza was supposed to work. This was supposed to be fun and casual. He should not be feeling…what was this? Jealousy? Angst? Oh God, was thisangst?Fucking hell.She was turning him into a teenager again.

He tossed his bag next to the couch and headed to his bedroom. Maybe he was just exhausted. He needed sleep. This would make sense when he was more clearheaded.

He went into his bathroom, stripped down to his boxers, and went through his nightly routine as quickly as possible. When he climbed into bed a few minutes later, he reached for the remote so he could watch TV for a little while, but his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He left the remote alone and grabbed his phone instead.

Eli:Made it home. U?

He propped a pillow behind his head and thumb-typed.

Beckham:Yep. Just got in bed.

Eli:Me too. Tonight was fun.

He hesitated. Did she mean with him or on her date with Will?

Eli:Though I think you implied that I’m a pig at one point, so I’m still stewing over that.

He chuckled softly and hit the call button.

As soon as she answered, he said, “Don’t put words in my mouth, Eli. All I meant was sex is a little like swimming. You might want to wait an hour after you eat before you jump in.”

She laughed, the sound quiet, almost husky at this time of night. “Noted.”

He leaned his head back against his pillow. “Well, I know you’re tired…”

“I’m not that tired,” she said. “I mean, I am, but I’m not one of those people who can come home and go straight to sleep. I’ll probably read something for a while.”

“Oh.” He thought of that stack of colorful romance novels he’d seen on her bedside table. “What’cha gonna read?”

“Dickens,” she said resolutely. “Or maybe Proust.”

Proust?He burst into a laugh. “And you’re a damn liar. I saw your stack, Eli. It’s going to be something with a shirtless guy on the cover, isn’t it?”

“Those really are the best books,” she said, a smile in her voice. “So probably. And not all romances have shirtless guys, for the record. Sometimes there are illustrations. Or a duke in a cravat, if you’re really lucky.”

Her easy tone sent a ripple of warmth through him. He tapped his fingers along his breastbone, not wanting to let her go quite yet. “Read one to me?”

She made a sound that was half laugh, half disbelief. “What? So you can tease me about them? Come on, Beck.”

“No, not to tease. I’m honestly curious,” he said, meaning it. He wanted to know what Eliza liked. “Plus, I’m not sleepy yet either. Hearing about some dashing duke sweeping away some sexy peasant girl sounds soothing.”

She snorted. “Have fantasies about dashing dukes?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“True,” she conceded. “But let me see if I have a historical in this stack. Most of these are contemporaries.”

“Read whichever kind you want,” he said, enormously pleased she was playing along. He liked that Eliza didn’t take herself too seriously and seemed to be game for most anything. He never would’ve expected a therapist to have such a playful, silly side.

He could hear her shifting around on her end, the squeak of her mattress. “Ooh, here’s one. Not a duke and a peasant girl but a viscount and a lady.”

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