Chapter 11: What the Call Was

Hallie's POV

His penthouse door was open when I stepped out of the elevator.

Elliot stood in the foyer in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and no shoes on.

I had never seen him without shoes.

"You came," he said.

"I said I was on my way."

"I know. I keep saying it to myself."

I put my bag down on the marble table.

The apartment was big and bare, with a long wall of windows and one lamp on.

It looked like a place where nobody had slept in years.

"Say it," I said. "What you've never said."

He took a breath and didn't let it out for a second.

"I don't need the call," he said.

I waited.

"I need you. The call was only the part I knew how to ask for."

"Elliot."

"You never said goodnight."

It came out low and plain, and I felt it land.

"In the first week of calls you did," he said. "Once.

I called, and you said, 'Goodnight, Mr. Maddox.' I couldn't speak.

I just stood there with the phone."

"I remember."

"The next night you said, 'Sleeping.' You've said it ever since."

"I thought it upset you," I said.

My voice shook.

"I heard you go silent. I thought goodnight sounded like I was leaving.

So I made it a fact instead. Sleeping. Nothing to be afraid of."

He stared at me.

"For four years," he said, "I waited for you to say it again."

Something broke open in my chest.

I crossed the floor and put my hands on either side of his face.

"Goodnight, Elliot," I said.

His eyes closed.

I kissed him.

It wasn't hurried.

It was slow, and deep, and I could feel him shaking under my hands.

"Take me to bed," I said.

"Hallie..."

"That isn't a question. I'm telling you."

He lifted me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me down a dark hall with my mouth on his neck.

He laid me on a bed made with hospital corners.

He pulled off my sweater.

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