I've Died Here Before novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: Is It the Hospital Coffee

Holden took me up to the owner's suite on the fortieth floor, and he did not say a word in the elevator.

He held my hand the whole way, tight enough that it hurt.

I didn't ask him to loosen it.

The suite faced the city, every window full of lit towers.

On the river side, every curtain had been drawn shut, and a chair had been pushed against the French doors.

He locked the door behind us and put his back against it.

"The yacht party is canceled," he said. "I called the captain myself. The Marguerite is staying at the dock."

"You can't cancel a Vickers party."

"I bought the dock this afternoon."

I stared at him.

"Of course you did," I said.

"Addie."

"You said eight. On the terrace. You said you'd looked at it eight times."

"Not tonight."

"You said it to Dean."

"Not tonight," he said. "Tomorrow. The envelope. I'll tell you everything, I swear it."

"Why not now?"

"Because if I tell you now, you'll look at me differently," he said, "and I want one night where you look at me like this."

I looked at him.

His tie hung open and his jacket was gone.

His eyes were red, and his hands, hanging at his sides, were still shaking.

"You're shaking, Courtland," I said softly. "Is it the hospital coffee?"

A short, wrecked laugh broke out of him.

"It's you," he said. "It's been you for three years."

That was enough.

I crossed the room, took his face in both hands, and kissed him.

He kissed me back hard, and he did not stop for a long time.

His hands found my waist, then my hips, and then he lifted me and I wrapped my legs around him and he carried me straight into the bedroom.

He set me on the edge of the bed and stood over me, breathing hard.

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