Page 54 of Crocodile Tears
“I’m so far from perfect.”
She let out a yawn and leaned her cheek against my lapel. “Not to me.”
I had the terrible urge to lean down and kiss the top of her head. But a million eyes were on the two of us and already the way we held each other was close enough to arch some eyebrows.
“Sleepy?” I asked, and Dove let out a hum, her eyelids drooping to half-mast.
“I’m normally asleep by eight and it’s almost midnight.” She yawned again.
Sleep tugged on me, pulled under by the warmth of the crowded room and the way Dove and I lazily rocked side to side. Luca caught my eye and I nodded, letting him know to ring my driver. Boneless, Dove leaned further into me.
“Tonight has been amazing,” she complimented. “I can’t think of anything that would’ve made it better.”
“I can think of one thing.”
She perked up a little. “What’s that?”
“How does popcorn, TV, and sweatpants sound?”
“Heaven,” she replied with a satisfying groan. “Even though I’m exhausted, I need to decompress a little before I go to bed.”
“I always need to do the same.” As my eyes searched her face, I hoped I wasn’t gazing down at her like a lovesick fool, but when it came to Dove, I couldn’t quite contain it. All of my acting flew straight out the window. She cracked me right open and made everything more real.
“I have the perfect show in mind,” she said, stepping out of my hold.
I couldn’t bear not touching her. Without thinking, I took her hand and threaded it with my own. “Then let’s get out of here.”
She shook her head at me. “What a line.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dove
When we arrived at the apartment, Deacon busied himself with calling the concierge—something I thought only hotels had—while I wandered off in the direction he pointed. I found my suitcase neatly placed on a luggage rack beside a queen-sized bed. His guest room was austere but expensive-looking, designed in shades of sage green and cobalt gray.
The city lights twinkled in the gaps of the thick curtains, the world beyond this luxurious apartment feeling so far away as I unzipped my tight dress. I let out a moan of relief as I rolled down my shapewear, wadded it up, and threw it across the room onto my suitcase.
Deacon’s apartment seemed more like a hybrid between a hotel and an art museum than an actual home. Apart from the catalogue racks of comic books and a framed map of Middle-earth on the far wall, nothing about the place seemed likeDeacon. I wondered how many days of the year he even got to spend here. The three bed, two and a half bath property had probably cost him millions and he didn’t even get to enjoy it.
I slipped into my trusty sweatpants and hoodie, grateful to take off all the elaborate and suffocating clothes and the layers of caked on makeup that made me feel like I was drowning in my own skin. The fact I managed to find a cozy blanket stashed in the bottom of the linen cupboard was a miracle. I wondered if Deacon even knew it was there or if whoever had designed and furnished the apartment had done it for him.
When I came out, I found that Deacon had on old episodes ofGame Changeron the TV. I flopped onto the couch, pulled the soft blanket over my lap, and surveyed the spread of food across the coffee table.
Deacon had called up for snacks and, to my surprise, the concierge had brought up two buckets of movie theater popcorn, candy, and fountain sodas. I wondered if some poor staff member had had to run to the nearest movie theater at midnight to obtain them. Somewhere even beingopenat midnight felt unfathomable to me on my little island. If I suddenly had a craving on Prickle Island for something that Lighthouse Lane General Store didn’t stock, I’d have to take a ferry into town to acquire it.
I laughed and shook my head as I opened a box of Butterfinger bites. “Designer clothes and luxury cars are fine,” I said, “but this is the coolest perk of being rich and famous I've seen so far.”
Deacon grinned at me, sweeping his hair off his face. “I've been wanting to do this with you for a long time.”
My stomach flipped. It should be illegal for such husky words to come out of the mouth of someone as attractive as he was. I was certain the many glasses of Champagne, whisky, and complimentary cocktails had loosened his tongue. He'dshucked off his jacket, his bowtie and belt abandoned and his collar unbuttoned to mid-chest, making him look like a sexy, disheveled assassin.
Move over James Bond, Deacon Harrow has entered the building.
Deacon stood in stark juxtaposition to me in every way, but especially now while I wore a faded hoodie and he looked like he’d just foiled the world-ending plot of an evil supervillain.
Deacon fell onto the couch beside me, and I collapsed into his side. We ate popcorn and watched our favorite shows until midnight became 2 am. And despite my exhaustion, I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to keep laughing and swapping inside jokes and sharing fun facts and just simply letting the conversation flow on forever. I didn’t want this magical moment between us to end and my carriage to turn back into a pumpkin just yet.
When the food had been devoured, Deacon pulled the leather cord of his necklace out from the neckline of his undershirt, pulling a coin off a magnetic clasp. I scrutinized it as he toyed with it in his fingers for a second before I finally caught a clear enough glance and gasped.
