Page 27 of Desirable
I see Liv before I see Parker, and I nearly take out an elderly couple as I sprint out of the store and into the street. I’m so focused on Parker that I don’t even think to check for cars. It’s the screech of tires and someone laying on their horn that draws my attention, and it’s very nearly too late.
The car kisses my knees, which give out as adrenaline rushes through my system when I realize what might have been. The cab driver is screaming at me for not looking where I’m going, and I’m staring at him, not hearing a word he’s saying because I was almost roadkill.
I was almost roadkill without telling Parker that I love him. That I think he’s worthy, and that he might spew some terrible shit at me, but I can take it because I love him.
“Holly?!” I hear his frantic voice calling to me, and then I feel hands on my arms checking me, but I can’t look away from the hood of the car or the windshield, knowing that I could have been killed. “Get the fuck back in your car,” the familiar voice says, and I finally turn and look at Parker. He’s holding my cheeks, eyes full of worry as they search my face.
“Parker?”
“Are you alright?” he asks, and I laugh, because of course I’m fine, I onlyalmostdied, but the laugh becomes a sob and he pulls me into his arms. Parker doesn’t wait for my response. He scoops me up and carries me from the middle of the street, which really should have been done sooner, but I’m here, I’m with him, and I cannot stop crying.
He doesn’t pause when we reach the curb or when his sister asks after us and he doesn’t stop to put me down when we hit the lobby or the elevator. It’s only once we’re in a room that he pauses before sitting on what I assume is the bed. I’m still cradled in his arms, with my hands covering my face.
“Holly?” Parker asks once I’ve calmed down a little. He sounds like he’s trying not to frighten a startled bird. I try to extract myself from him, but he won’t release his hold on me.
“I’m alright,” I tell him, wiping my eyes.
“I’m glad for it, but what are you doing in Boston? Besides scaring the hell out of me. I saw you run into the street, and too late, I saw the car.” There is a haggard tone to his voice.
“I had to talk to you.” All the words I had prepared on the train leave my mind. I don’t know how to make them make sense now, so instead, I kiss him, hoping that I can start to convey my thoughts with this one moment.
Parker gently rolls me from his lap onto the bed and my back. He breaks the kiss and studies my face. “Why are you here, Holly?”
“Because you owe me an explanation. I deserve to know what happened and why you left our bed in Paris, kissing me with promises of seeing me soon, only to ghost me like some random hookup.”
He rolls off me and looks away. “I told you why.”
“Now tell me while looking me in the eye that it’s not because it scared you.”
“What does it change, Holly?” He gets off the bed and paces to the window, still refusing to look at me.
“It changes everything, Parker. I didn’t think after Tyler that I would feel wanted again. I thought that maybe Tyler was right that there wasn’t anything about me that would make someone sure about me.”
Parker spins around lightning-quick with a rebuttal on his lips. I get up and move toward him to press a finger to his lips. Now that he’s looking at me, now that I know that there will be no mistaking my words, I plow forward.
“I think you have a lot of apologizing to do, but I love you. You said some heinous shit to me, that isn’t forgiven, but I think that what we have, what we’ve shared, is something. I think you’re just scared, and you rejected me before I could reject you.”
His eyes darken, but he smooths my hair back behind my ear. “How do you always manage to see right through me?”
“I’ll admit I had some help this time. I was ready to salt and burn everything you gave me, including the painting.”
“You mean the four million dollar one?” he asks dryly.
I choke on my own spit at that dollar amount. “I’m sorry, how much is it worth?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Says the man worth millions.”
“Your net worth isn’t hurting, either. When was the last time you got a low balance warning?”
I think on his question, opening my mouth to respond and then I close it. “I’m not even going to ask. Instead, I’m going to demand you try this for real. That you give me a fair shot, and that you communicate with me, not as your fake date, but as your real one.”
“You want my money that badly?” he asks blandly. His hand is settled on my hip, but I give him a shove.
“If I wanted your money, do you think I would have given you back all that stuff? I didn’t even know you still paid me or my sister’s loans. I also would not have shoved a painting worth that much in the back of my closet.”
Parker scoffs. “I don’t know how to do this, Holly. I work all the time, and I don’t communicate well.”