Page 72 of Some Saviors Can Break You

As far as he was concerned, it was time to pack up Florence’s things, cancel the lease on her apartment, and she could stay with him at the hotel until the furniture arrived and they could move into the penthouse. He didn't want to wait any longer, he could have lost her today.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked. He smoothed a hand down her hair, stroking the length of her spine, before settling it on her hip, keeping her close.

“Beyond ready. I hate hospitals. I know it’s only midday, but I'm exhausted. Since my place is a crime scene, do you want to go back to your hotel room and crash for a while?”

“I hope by crash you don’t mean just sleep,” he teased.

“I think I have enough energy for a few other things,” she said with a giggle.

“So when will CSU be done with your place?”

“I’ll be able to get back in there tomorrow. Why?”

“I thought we could pack your stuff up and get it ready to move.”

“Move it where?” Florence leaned back so she could see him.

“Well, temporarily to the hotel, but the penthouse will be furnished and ready for us to move in within two weeks.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Her mouth quirked up on one side in a half-smile. “Because I gotta tell you, this is the least romantic way to ask someone to move in together.”

“Sorry, guess we’re both exhausted. Florence, I can't stand spending another night without you in my bed, would you please move in with me?”

She laughed. “That was a little better, but still not your best work. Are you just asking because of what happened today?”

“No, princess, I already bought an engagement ring so no, this isn’t spur of the moment, I was just waiting till you were ready before I asked.”

Her eyes bulged. “You bought an engagement ring already?”

“Florence, I was ready to propose after our first date. I would have if I thought you’d have said yes. I can't wait for us to live together, to get married, have a family. Once we’re married, you’ll be able to quit your job so I won't have to worry about you anymore.”

“Wait. What did you just say?”

“You can't stay a cop.”

“Excuse me? Ican'tstay a cop? Why not?” she demanded, pushing out of his arms and planting her hands on her hips.

“Why would you want to? In the two weeks we’ve known each other you’ve been attacked three times by two different serial killers, one of whom has been stalking you for the last two decades. Florence, I’ve already lost my brother and both my parents, I can't lose you too.” He took a step toward her, but she backed up.

“Eli, I love my job. It’s all I've wanted to do since I was eight years old, and the cops working my case showed me more care and compassion than any other adult ever had. I'm not quitting my job.” Her tone of voice said it was final, but he couldn’t let it go, the idea of losing Florence filled him with dread. How could he live his life without her in it?

“Okay, I understand that, I do, but surely, you can understand where I'm coming from.” He wasn't being unreasonable about this. He wasn't. Right? “It’s not like you’ll have to work, I make more than enough to take care of you.”

“So what exactly do you expect me to do all day while you go off to work? Get a massage, my nails done, go shopping, have tea and sandwiches with your friends’ trophy wives?” Florence’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Well, no, of course not. If you want to have a job you can do something else.” He hadn't really thought this through, all he knew was that the idea of Florence getting killed on the job nearly paralyzed him. Every time he thought about it all he could see was a gun pointed at her and her covered in blood. How could he kiss her goodbye every morning knowing that she might not come home to him?

“And what, pray tell, is an acceptable job for me to have?”

“I don’t know. Anything that doesn’t involve you facing down killers every day.”

“You just want me to sit in your penthouse, and make myself pretty while I wait for you to dress me up and take me out to one of your fancy balls or something. This was exactly what I was afraid of. We come from two completely different worlds. I like being a cop, it means everything to me, and you want me to give it up so I can be at your beck and call whenever you have time for me in your busy schedule.”

“That’s not what this is about,” he snapped, his temper rising, a little voice in the back of his head was telling him to stop talking, that he was making this worse, but he couldn’t stop. Fear had taken over his brain and he couldn’t shut it off. “I would never treat you like that, and you know it. This is about me not wanting to be picking out your coffin and thinking about what I'm going to say for your eulogy.”

“I'm not going to die.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Really? Because in less than two weeks you were nearly run down by a car, knocked unconscious in your apartment, and held at gunpoint. So you can see where I'd get the idea that your job is dangerous.”

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