Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Exactly,” he says. “Read it.”
I scan the contents. It’s boilerplate at the top, something about an outstanding balance, and the deeper I get into the next paragraph, the faster my heart races. Sweat breaks out under my arms and along my back. I stare at the numbers at the very bottom.
“Conlan,” I say.
“Go on. Flip through.”
I do it, hands shaking. There are eight pages in all, and each of them says more or less the same thing.
“You paid it off.”
He sits down in the chair next to me. “Yes, I did.”
I stare at him, heart racing into my throat. “You paid off my mortgage. The house—”
“It’s yours. Entirely yours. No banks, no strings, no contracts. You owe me nothing.”
I slowly lower the pages. Tears drip down onto the cover letter. I didn’t realize I was crying, but once it hits me, the tears come faster. I’m sobbing, knees pulled up, and I feel him hug me against his chest. I’m aware that this is a totally inappropriate reaction to someone paying off my debt, but it’s just too much.
That house is everything to me, and the mortgage has been like an anchor tied to my ankle. I’ve been trying to tread water, but it wanted to drag me under. Every day I woke up and thought about how much I owed and how long it would take until I paid it all off, and every day the horror of never getting out from under the mountain of debt was physically painful.
Now it’s gone, and the anchor can’t ruin me anymore.
It takes a minute to get control of myself. “Sorry. Sorry. I know it’s weird I’m crying.”
“It’s okay. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Which only makes me cry harder, the asshole, but eventually I get it together. I kiss him, holding my lips to his for a few seconds. “Why?” I ask, feeling breathless. “I could’ve paid it with the money you owe me up front.”
“I didn’t want you to feel beholden to me,” he says softly. “Yes, it’s mostly symbolic, but still. Fuck the deal. Fuck the contract. If you want to stay with me as my wife, if you want to finish this thing we started with Leyland and Allison, then I want you to do it because you want to do it, not because you’re afraid of your mortgage.”
I shake my head slowly. “That’s crazy.”
“It’s not crazy at all. You feel this, don’t you? Whatever this is, it’s changing into something else, and I don’t want to hold it back. You’re free, Isabel. Free to make your own decisions about your life without the past dragging you down.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Consider it a gift for three long years of good work then. You put up with enough of my bullshit. This is the least you deserve.”
I laugh, feeling like an idiot, and kiss him again. “I don’t think I can ever make you understand how grateful I am.”
“How about you thank me by checking in on Allison?”
I grin, kiss him one last time, and push myself to my feet. “I think I can handle that.”
“We’re equal now,” he says, returning to his chair behind his desk. “The money’s still in play. When you’re done with this marriage, that’s waiting for you in the end. But don’t let what happened to you back then force you to do things that aren’t good for you now.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“And I’d say I’m already trying.”
I leave his office and linger in the hallway. When I’m alone, the magnitude of the gesture hits me.
He wants to be equal. He wants me to stay in this marriage because I want to be in with him, not because of some emotional incentive.
This is a real relationship.
I knew it’d been trending that way for a while, but this is the last step before the abyss.
Conlan wants to be my partner for real.
Not for some game, not for some media appearance, but for real.
That should terrify me.
Except it doesn’t.
All my life, I’ve run from relationships, good and bad, because I’ve always been afraid that I’d fuck it up. That I wouldn’t be worthy.
That I’d fall in love and fail someone all over again, and I don’t think I could handle that.
But with Conlan, it’s different. He’s different.
He’s so much more than I ever imagined, and I’m not afraid of being unable to live up to him.
As I head into the elevator, I realize that I want this, maybe as much as he does.
Chapter 32
Isabel
Allison makes me knock for almost five minutes before she answers the door. “You know it’s still early, right?” She glares at me, her hair messy from bed. She’s in shorts and a t-shirt.
“It’s actually a little past noon.”
“Oh.” She pauses, eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”