Marcus (Signature Sweethearts Book 6)

by Kelsie Rae

  “You’re totally fine. I should’ve watched where I was going. Are you okay?”

  I scan my body from head to toe, even though I already know the answer. “Yup. Just dandy.” If you don’t count the broken heart. “And it wasn’t your fault, it was my big foot that was the issue!”

  She laughs at my lame attempt at joking before offering her hand. “I’m Marissa.”

  “Natalie. Nice to meet you. Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something? You know, since I just made you fall flat on your face.”

  With a grin, she nods. “That’d be great.”

  A few minutes later, I find us both sitting at a little table in front of Starbucks with an iced vanilla coffee in hand as we get to know each other.

  “So, where are you flying?” she asks as she straightens her glasses that were still skewed from falling a few minutes ago.

  “Paris, actually.” My smile falters as I’m brought back to the present.

  She must sense my sadness because her smile slips too. “And you’re not excited to go to Paris?”

  “No, I am,” I argue. But the lie falls flat.

  She quirks her brow before teasing, “Sure you are. Why are you going to Paris?”

  Releasing a sigh, I respond, “I’m attending a culinary school there.”

  “Okay, now I’m really confused. Why aren’t you excited? With your earlier reaction, I would’ve guessed you were going to a funeral or something. But culinary school? That sounds amazing!”

  Her enthusiasm brings a genuine smile to my lips. “It is,” I confirm. “I’m really excited to learn everything and to live in a foreign country for a few months. I’m just sad to be leaving my...friends.” Marcus’s face flashes through my mind.

  “Friends?” she prods with a knowing grin. Man, this girl can read me.

  “And boyfriend,” I admit shyly. The term feels so foreign. Like it’s not enough to describe what he is to me.

  She scrunches up her nose. “And he’s not coming with you?”

  I pause to consider the possibility before shrugging it off. “I couldn’t ask that of him. To leave his family because I couldn’t live without him?” I shake my head. “No…but he’s being really great about the whole long-distance thing so….”

  She nods her understanding. “That makes sense. You guys need to do what works for you. My hubby and I have been married for eleven years. I can’t imagine being without him, even for a week, let alone…how long is the course for culinary school?”

  “Nine months.”

  Her eyes pop behind her glasses. “Wow. That’s…that’s rough. But it could be worse. It could be years until you graduate.”

  A dry laugh escapes me. “Yeah. You can say that again.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I can tell you from experience that true love can beat the odds. You just gotta keep communication open and put the work in. It’ll pay off. And nine months? I have two kids. If I can make it through their pregnancies, you can make it through culinary school.”

  I smile at the stranger who totally shined a new light on my scenario. Yes. This is going to be hard. But she’s right. Communication is key, and if we both want it, then we’ll both have it. And nine months? Piece of cake.

  “Thank you.” I smile, feeling like a tiny piece of the weight has been lifted off me.

  “Don’t mention it.” She grins before something grabs her attention from behind me. “Crap. It looks like my husband found me. I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you, though. And good luck!”

  “You too!” I call as she stands and rushes off.

  Her words stick with me. It’ll pay off. I just pray it does.

  Chapter Thirty

  Marcus

  Nat: Just got here. I miss you.

  My heart squeezes in my chest as I reply.

  Me: Hey, baby. I miss you too. How was your flight?"

  Nat: Fine, I guess.

  Nat: I ran into a girl at the airport, and I may have mentioned you.

  A slow smile spreads across my face.

  Me: Oh yeah? And what'd you say?

  Nat: That you were terrible in bed, and I couldn't wait to get away.

  Laughing at her sarcasm, I shake my head as my fingers fly across my screen.

  Me: Ahhh...it all makes sense now. Did you mention receding hairline and snaggle tooth too?

  Nat: Obviously. They're your best features.

  I grin as I roll onto my side to rest my head against the pillow that still smells like Natalie.

  It's almost three in the morning here, but I couldn't sleep. To be honest, I'm not sure I'll be getting much of it until she's back in my arms. My gaze searches for the giant poster with a countdown calendar written on it with Sharpie ink. Natalie made it for me before she left so I can keep track of how long it’ll be until she comes home. Back to me.

  277 more days.

  I sober instantly.

  My phone vibrates again, shoving away my morose thoughts.

  Nat: What are you doing up? I wasn't expecting a reply until later.

  I stare up at the ceiling. What should I say? I don't want to make her feel guilty that I can’t sleep because she isn’t here.

  Me: Just thinking about you.

  Me: What else did you and your new airport buddy talk about?

  I hit send before closing my eyes and burying my head in her pillow.

  Seconds later, I’m notified she’s replied.

  Nat: Just you. She reminded me that communication is key in any good relationship, and that nine months will go by in a flash.

  Nat: It will go by in a flash, right?

  My hand tightens around my phone before my attention flashes to that damn calendar that's taunting me.

  Me: Yeah, babe. Piece of cake.

  Nat: Piece of eclair, you mean. ;)

  I laugh.

  Me: Suuuure. Piece of eclair.

  Me: Said no one, ever.

  A picture pops up of Natalie sticking her tongue out at me, but I can see the sadness in her expression. She's putting on a brave face, but I know she's struggling.

  We’re both struggling.

  Why? Why does this have to be so hard?

  Me: Love you, Natalie. Let me know when you get to your apartment, okay?

  Nat: I will. Love you too, Marc.

  I focus on the message. My eyes are glued to the word Marc until it starts to blur. Seconds later, the screen goes black.

  I'm left in a dark, empty room and have never felt lonelier.

  277 days.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Marcus

  Two Weeks Later

  I feel like I've been in a mean version of Groundhog Day for the past two weeks. Wake up. Talk to Natalie for ten minutes before her afternoon class starts. Exercise. Shower. Log onto Flinch, play a few hours of Gateway Guardians. Talk to Natalie on the phone as her day winds down, if I’m lucky. Clean the apartment. Log on to Flinch again, play a few more games. Eat dinner. Send Natalie a goodnight text. Go to bed. Between the time difference and her schedule, I don't have nearly enough time to talk to her the way I want to. Instead, I’m gifted with short little snippets that are slowly killing me.

  It doesn't help that she sounds miserable. I can tell she's trying to put on a strong front, but she doesn't fool me. The protective boyfriend in me is begging to be set free so I can make everything better. The problem? I can't do shit from 3,697 miles away. I want to pound on my chest and make her come home every time she hints at wanting the same thing.

  But I can't.

  Because I know that culinary school is an incredible opportunity for her. I know that she's loving her classes. I know that she's loving the culture. I know that she's loving the espresso shots they serve on every corner. But I also know that she misses me and Sophie more than her next breath, just like how much we miss her.

  Logging off from yet another game of Gateway Guardians, my phone starts to ring on the desk.

  When Natalie's name flashes ac
ross the screen, my brows furrow as I do the math in my head to figure out what time it is on the other side of the earth.

  What the hell?

  It's almost four in the morning over there.

  "Natalie?" I ask as soon as my thumb slides across the screen to answer her call.

  Staggered breathing echoes through the speaker, followed by a few distinct sniffles.

  "Natalie, are you okay?" My voice is thick with concern.

  More sniffling. "Umm…yeah. I probably shouldn't have even called." She laughs, but there isn't any humor in it.

  "What's wrong, babe?"

  The sound of her releasing a deep breath seems to calm my frazzled nerves. "Seriously, Marc. Nothing's wrong. I just...I really miss you." Her voice cracks on the last part, breaking my heart right along with it.

  Standing from my desk chair, I begin to pace the room. "Talk to me, baby. You're breaking my heart."

  Another dry laugh. "I promise, Marc. Nothing's wrong. I'm overreacting, okay? I'm loving my classes. I'm loving my teacher. I'm loving everything about this place. I just...I had a really shitty dream, and it scared me. I guess that I really needed to hear your voice. That's all."

  I collapse into my chair before resting my elbows on the table. Lacing the fingers of one hand through my hair, I hold my cell to my ear with the other. "I miss you too, babe. What was your dream about?"

  She stays silent before voicing her greatest fear. "You disappeared,” she whispers, as her breathing turns shallow. “You stopped answering my calls. You forgot about me."

  I sigh. "Babe, you know I could never forget about you."

  "I know," she rushes. "I trust you, Marc. I promise. It wasn't like that. I guess I'm just a little homesick and wish you were here. That's all."

  "Natalie—"

  She cuts me off. "Look, everything's fine. I'm sorry if I scared you. I should probably try to get some sleep, though. I have an early class tomorrow, but I'll call you later, okay? I love you."

  "I love you too," I murmur as the call disconnects.

  My gaze returns to that damn calendar. 264 more days.

  Shit.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Natalie

  It's been a month since I moved here. When I'm busy with classes, it's been amazing. But anytime I have a moment to myself, I want to break down crying. I keep telling myself to suck it up, but it isn't helping.

  Marcus has been really busy the past two weeks, which also isn't helping matters. He's trying to find a new apartment, since my lease is ending in a couple of weeks, and he'll need a place to stay. So, I can understand how he's a little preoccupied right now and can't give me all his attention, but it doesn't help my anxiety.

  I don't want my self-esteem to mess with my perspective of things but...how can I expect a man like that to wait for me? He's pretty much perfect, remember?

  Gah! I'm going to drive myself crazy if I don't think about something else.

  Walking toward my little apartment building, I'm distracted by my phone ringing in my purse.

  I can't contain the squeal that bubbles out of me when I see Sophie's name.

  "Sophie!"

  "Noogie!" she returns with the same enthusiasm. "How are you, boo?"

  Grinning, I take in the cobblestone lining the street, and the picturesque skyline that would make any woman weep with glee. "I'm okay. I miss you, though."

  She groans. "Girl, you have no idea. Indie's trying to teach me how to ice the eclairs, but the last ones ended up looking like newborn poop."

  I snort before saying, "Thanks for the visual. How have you been feeling? How's Nathan? How are Indie and Rhett? How's Harry?"

  Sophie giggles at my inclusion of Indie and Rhett's dog. "They're all great. I'm feeling really good, though I’m pretty sure I’m the size of a Beluga Whale, and everything is...good. How are you? How have you been feeling?"

  I scrunch up my face, debating how honest I should be before remembering this is Sophie I'm talking to. The girl can read me like a freaking book, so it's kind of pointless to try to keep things from her.

  Releasing a sigh, I respond, "I'm okay. Classes are great. The food is amazing. I'm learning a lot. I just miss you guys." I don't bother to invite her to come see me, because she's in a high-risk pregnancy, which means her doctor already told her no flying overseas until Baby #1 and Baby #2 make their debuts.

  "We miss you too, Noog. Have you talked to Marcus lately?"

  "Not as much as I’d like. Between the time difference and my insane schedule, it’s hard to find time to call him. Plus, he's been really busy the past couple of weeks. It's kind of freaking me out, actually," I confess while eyeing the corner a hundred yards in front of me that holds my apartment building.

  "Why?" she probes.

  I shrug. "I don't know. I'm scared he's already forgetting me. Which I know is ridiculous," I add before she has a chance to argue. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel that way, ya know?"

  After looking both ways, I cross the street and head toward the corner building that feels less and less like home, because Marcus isn’t here to share it with me.

  "Trust me, Natalie. That man would move mountains to make you smile."

  I look down at the cobbled street beneath my sneakers. "I know, but I think that's what scares me so badly."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He would move mountains for me when we were together, but now there's an ocean between us. What happens when he's lonely one night and goes out for a drink? What happens when it's been six months, and he forgets to return a text? What happens when I get accepted into the elite program that extends my course another three months?"

  "What?" Sophie shrieks. I flinch.

  "I haven't accepted,” I add. “But I passed my first exam, and Madame Charette asked if I would be interested in staying. But in eight months, I'll have accomplished what I had set out to achieve. That's all that matters. After that, I just want to come home."

  "What do you mean, that's all that matters? Natalie, what matters is you becoming the best damn chef you can be, and if that means staying another three months, then do it! Be a sponge! Soak up as much knowledge as you can!"

  Searching for my keys in my purse as I round the corner to my apartment, I pin my cell between my ear and shoulder. "But what about Marcus?"

  "What about me?" a gruff voice interrupts, scaring the shit out of me. I jump about a mile into the air as my head snaps up to find the culprit.

  My heart leaps in my chest at the sight in front of me.

  His lips curve toward the bright blue sky as he takes a tentative step closer.

  "Hi," he says in his deep, gritty voice.

  "Hi," I squeak, feeling like my cheeks are on fire.

  "What about me?" he repeats, hovering over me.

  I swallow as I try to remember what I was talking about. "Oh, umm...I've been invited to stay for another three months. But I'm not going to take it or anything."

  His brows furrow before lifting his large hand and tilting my chin up. "Why not?"

  I lick my lips. "Umm...because?"

  He huffs out a breath of laughter. "Because why, babe?"

  I peek up at him, trying to find my voice. "Because I've been really homesick this past month, and I don't think I can be without you for an extra three. In all honesty, I don’t think I can be without you for an extra second."

  He nods his understanding. "And what if you didn't have to do it without me?"

  I tilt my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

  "Remember the night you had a bad dream, and you called me?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Well, you said something. Something that kind of stuck with me."

  I gulp, looking back down at my toes. "And what's that?"

  He leans closer. "You said that you wish I were here. And it got me thinking…."

  "About what?" I whisper, my breath brushing across his chest.

  He cups my cheeks with his calloused palms. "I couldn't figure o
ut why I wasn't here with you, either."

  My gaze lifts to his tantalizing lips that are taunting me to kiss him when I know I need to finish this conversation first. "What are you saying, Marc?"

  "I'm saying that I'm an idiot for not figuring this out earlier,” he laughs. “I can work from anywhere, Natalie. The lease was over with the apartment. There was literally nothing tying me to New York, other than my sister who has Nathan. And the only thing I need?" His hands tilt my head up. "Is you."

  His mouth descends on my own with a sense of reverence. My toes curl in my shoes as I brush my lips against his. The feeling is nothing short of exquisite in its simplicity. There's no tongue. No rush. No heated passion. Just me and him. Tasting each other like a fine wine or an expensive glass of whiskey. Letting the burn be slow and smooth, savoring the unique flavors while noting the undertones that are uniquely him and me in this moment.

  When he pulls away, I can't help but murmur, "Pinch me."

  My eyes are still squeezed shut, though I can feel his smile against my mouth. "What?"

  "Pinch me. Smack me. Do something to prove to me that I'm not dreaming right now."

  He closes the distance between our mouths, sliding his tongue between my lips, and curling the tip in the most delicious way possible that leaves me begging for more.

  "Babe, if this is a dream, then I don't want to wake up."

  Cautiously, I open my eyes and peer up at him. "Neither do I."