Page 52 of Reckless Hearts
I feel like I’ve just discovered a new species—Marcus fidelitatis. I’m not entirely sure how to classify it within my existing taxonomy of our relationship.
My thoughts fly back over the last few months, viewing everything through a different lens. Marcus letting me take him down the peninsula, Marcus extending text conversation between us, Marcus watching my favorite TV show with me and letting me sleep over.
My brain stutters, barely having the audacity to think the next line.
Is there a chance Marcus could ever want more with me?
Yep, it’s surprising my brain doesn’t explode with the sheer improbability of that thought. It’s like a lab mouse suddenly wondering if it could pilot the space shuttle.
Marcus told me from the start that he isn’t a boyfriend type of guy. Yet the way he acts toward me, now viewed through the lens of exclusivity, definitely has boyfriend vibes.
But I’m not going to drop that idea on him right before he leaves to travel with my sister for two months.
Marcus seems subdued when he wakes up. We have sex, as usual, but there’s still an edge of desperation, like he’s trying to imprint this in his memory just as much as I am.
My imagination, which, now unleashed, is starting to run riot, interprets this as a sign he’s going to miss me too.
When I get to the door to leave, I stop and turn to him.
“I know you and Saskia are going to have fun in the States,” I say. I trail off because I have no idea how to finish that sentence. It’s not like Marcus needs my permission to hook up with other guys. “Saskia’s always said you two are going to make the guys of America wish they’d never heard of New Zealand.”
“Yes, that’s the plan,” Marcus says the words lightly, but a tightness around his eyes doesn’t match his tone.
“And I want you to have…fun,” I say through numb lips. “It’s the trip of a lifetime, right?”
He stares at me with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, it’s going to be the trip of a lifetime,” he echoes.
We just stand there, staring at each other.
Marcus blows out a breath, breaking eye contact.
“I’ll be home in a few months. We’ll catch up then, okay?” he says.
“Sure. I look forward to it.” I say the words formally, like I’m a seventy-year-old librarian arranging a meeting about overdue books.
But my brief foray into Grandpa territory doesn’t deter Marcus from stepping forward to kiss me.
It’s a gentle, sweet kiss. My knees go weak as his hand cups my cheek, his thumb stroking gently.
He pulls back slowly.
“You look after yourself,” he says.
My fingers fly to my lips as if I can rub in Marcus’s kiss, trapping the sensation for the long weeks ahead without him.
“You look after yourself too.”
12
Marcus
The Grand Canyon stretches before me, a vast, breathtaking expanse of red rock and shadow. It’s one of the world’s greatest wonders, yet all I can focus on is ensuring I don’t plummet to my death.
Saskia’s at the guardrail, looking down, while I’m standing a few feet behind her.
She turns to me, her oversized sunglasses on her head, the breeze whipping her blonde hair around her face.
“Are you going to come here for a photo?” she asks.
