I didn’t care that he was the epicenter of all my anger. When he sat next to me on the bed, I climbed up onto his lap and buried my head in his chest.
One hand wrapped around my back as another gently stroked my hair. There was no tension or rush. He stayed there with me like that until I finally lifted my head and looked up.
A kind smile was staring back at me. And a pair of ocean-gray eyes.
“Are you okay?” he murmured softly, wiping the remaining tears from my cheeks.
“I didn’t know you’d be this upset over the fake engagement.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
My face crumbled and I shook my head. “A patient of mine died today. She was the first patient I ever had. If I’d gotten there an hour sooner, I could have said goodbye…”
My voice cut off again, and I collapsed back into him in a fit of tears.
“Oh, Rebecca,” he breathed, holding me tight against him as he rocked us both back and forth. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
I shuddered and gripped the back of his shirt even tighter. “Her family c-can’t even pay for a funeral. I can’t imagine—”
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” he soothed. “Just breathe.”
Taking his advice, I tried to even my choppy breathing, counting each one out and timing them with his. After a few minutes, I finally was able to calm down. But neither one of us moved. We stayed there, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, ignoring all the reasons we should be kept apart—if only for a moment.
Finally, I shifted around and sat up so I could look him in the face. I wiped my cheeks and flushed with embarrassment, but he squeezed my hand and smiled without shame.
“Thanks for letting me leave without a fight,” I said softly, my throat thick from crying.
“You weren’t my prisoner. If you were mad and wanted to leave, then that was your choice.”
“You don’t have to pay me. I know I broke our verbal contract. I was supposed to stay until Sunday.”
“You said yes to my marriage proposal. You did the job flawlessly. So what if you left a day early. I plan to pay you in full.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That means so much to me. I really need the money to pay off all the credit debt I’ve racked up.”
“How did you make it through takeoff?” he continued curiously.
“I lay, prone, on the floor of the cabin. It actually wasn’t so bad. But your stewardess thinks I’m a narcoleptic.”
He dropped his head and chuckled silently before those eyes flashed back to mine.
“You look nice,” I said.
“Thank you.” He smiled too, but it faded the longer he stared at me. “I came here…expecting a fight. I didn’t think…”
I shrugged helplessly, and his face grew suddenly serious.
“Rebecca, I didn’t know how to tell you. Takahari set up a meeting, but he needs more time—I need more time.” His eyes dropped down to the comforter. “I didn’t think you’d say yes, and I didn’t know what to do. I panicked.”
I shook my head and glanced out the window. “Marcus, I don’t want to fight.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He squeezed my hand and I looked back at him. There was a vulnerability to his face I’d never seen before. A need for forgiveness. From a man who didn’t need anything.
“I’ve never been sorrier for anything,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to ruin your future moments for the sake of my own. I never wanted to hurt you at all. Please…know that.”